Page 29 of Lorran
“Stop staring at my ass,” she said.
“It is noteworthy,” he replied.
“Ugh. Have you tried not being so gross?”
“I object. I am not gross. I am delightful.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your ego, that’s for sure,” she muttered.
Putting the finishing touches on the quick sketch, she turned back around and thrust the sketchbook at him.
A simple outline of a generic bird shape wore sunglasses. The words “Mind your own business” surrounded the bird in thick balloon lettering.
A slow smile spread across his face, this one reaching his eyes and lighting up his entire person. Now she could see how empty that charming smile had been, a false front. This was the real man—er, alien.
“I will treasure this always,” he said. And for no reason whatsoever, Wyn believed him.
The computer chirped. Wyn jumped. This day was all sorts of a disaster, and it would be just her luck for it to end in an actual disaster. “I didn’t touch anything.”
“We are approaching the gate.”
Wyn groaned, having forgotten about that.
“Remain seated. Do not touch the console,” Lorran said, before slipping through the partition.
He returned with a red kit that she recognized as a first aid kit.
“Eat this. It will help,” he said, unwrapping a silver foil packet to reveal a squishy pink cube.
“That’s safe for humans, right? You’re not poisoning me?” She tried to get her voice light, like a joke, but some of her unease must have crept through.
His eyes softened. “I have many failings, Bronwyn Named-for-her-mother’s-mother Davies, but I would not intentionally poison my mate.”
His mate.
Talk like that could turn a gal’s head.
“Okay.” It might be the lingering remnants of hero worship from the warrior who saved all those years ago, but she trusted Lorran to keep her safe.
The pink cube had a bland, chalky taste. Not unpleasant, but not something she’d recommend. Warmth spread in her gut.
“Now this one.” A second packet produced a white pill. Wyn took it without question, washing it down with a water cube.
Lorran moved her from the navigator’s chair and helped with the safety harness. It felt like what she imagined being strapped into a race car would feel like with belts crisscrossing her torso and lap.
“How are you feeling?”
“Snug as a bug,” she said, slurring her words. “Why do I s-s-sound drug? Drunk? I can’t be schnookered again.” Oh sure, she managed to sayschnookeredwithout slurring.
“That would be the sedative. It is better if you slept for the gate.”
“You trifling alien. You think you’re—” She struggled to get the words out. Inebriated twice in one day. How embarrassing.
“I apologize, Wyn. This is for the best.”
The computer chimed another warning. Wyn drifted into oblivion.
Chapter 7
