Page 68 of Ren: Warlord Brides
She scooped up two and added them to her plate.
“On Rolusdreus, we have a sweet dumpling that is filled with nuts and honey, but those are reserved for holidays. A common morning meal is a dumpling filled with nutritional yeast. It is dense and very filling.”
“Do you have a recipe?” Nutritional yeast sounded questionable, but she was always up for trying new foods.
“No. Describe an Earth dumpling,” he said.
“We have several. Ravioli, pierogies, shumai, gyoza, bao, wontons, samosas, rissoles, knishes, and tamales if you think about corn masa instead of wheat.”
“So many.”
“Those are just the ones off the top of my head. I didn’t even mention pasties, patties, or empanadas. Every cuisine on Earth has some variation on dumplings, and I’ve found so many on other planets. I want to try them all.” Her hips might protest, but her stomach was up for the challenge.
They shared their dishes and ordered shaved ices for dessert. Conversation flowed easily, like they had known each other for years. Technically, they did, but Emry wasn’t going to get bogged down on technicalities. Ren felt like a friend, and she wondered if this was what their relationship would have been like if they had stuck together.
Emry tensed, waiting for the old ache in her chest at the memory of being rejected.
Nothing came.
Huh.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing.” Emry shoved a spoonful of the colorful shaved ice in her mouth and grinned.
“Your lips are blue. It is alarming.”
That earned him a stuck-out tongue, no doubt stained a technicolor blue.
Nothing had changed about their past, but everything had changed about their present. She liked it. Loved it, even if that frightened her a teeny amount.
* * *
A groupof three people waited outside the ship when Ren and Emry returned. Two men, one red and one violet, towered over one slender human woman. Her hair was a concoction of blue, purple, and pink.
“Do you know them?” Emry asked.
“You are late,” Ren said, striding up to the red guy, who was obviously from the same planet as Ren. They slapped each other on the back and called each other names. It was very bromantic. Ren made quick work of the introduction.
The big red guy was Havik. The petite woman, his mate, Thalia. The Sangrin male was Zalis. He had a lurking presence and had to duck his head when entering the ship, lest his horns bash into the frame. Despite his bulk, peacefulness rolled off him like birdsong on a misty morning.
“My mate, Emmarae,” Ren said, his voice filled with pride.
All three turned their collective gaze at her. Emry held up a hand and wiggled her fingers, suddenly shy.
“Your mate,” Havik said.
“Yes. My mate. Do not make me repeat myself. It is tiresome. You are tiresome,” Ren quipped. “Come. I have news.”
Ren strode up the ramp, unconcerned that Havik continued to stare at Emry with burning curiosity. After a few seconds that felt like hours, Thalia elbowed him. “Come on. Don’t be rude.”
“He explains nothing. Am I to ignore the female? That is rude.”
“You don’t have to ignore me. You can talk to me,” Emry said.
The Sangrin—Zalis—ignored them all and pushed his way up the ramp. After another eternity of staring, Emry gave a weak smile. Havik huffed and entered the ship.
In the common area, Ren occupied the center of the sofa, the cat on his lap, stroking Mittens like a villain right out of a movie.
