Page 61 of Ren: Warlord Brides
“It’s a recipe, not a concoction.” Emry worked the knife through the nuts, chopping them finer and finer. The cookie-avoidance strategy wouldn’t work forever. There was only so much butter and sugar on board.
Soup, she decided. They had too many vegetables and not enough storage to keep them fresh. She’d work her way through the ship’s entire pantry to avoid talking aboutwhat happens next.
Fur and a tail twined between her feet. Emry tried to step back but stepped on a paw. Mittens hissed and sank her claws into Emry’s thigh.
“Fuck! Cat!” Emry jumped back, stumbling away from the counter. The knife clattered to the floor, narrowly missing her foot.
“You are injured.”
“No, I got out of the way of the knife.”
“Your leg.” Ren grabbed a clean dishcloth from the counter.
Blood ran down her bare legs from three long gashes. She picked up the hem of her dress to avoid getting blood on the fabric. She sliced her fingers and picked up plenty of burns in the kitchen, but this was her first injury from an animal attack. “Where’s the first aid kit?”
“Sit,” Ren ordered, his voice steady and calm. He left briefly, returning with a white plastic kit. When she sat, he dabbed the cloth to her leg.
“This happen often?”
“Often enough that Murder Mittens should know to avoid being underfoot.”
“Well, cats gonna cat. They do what they want.” Woe unto the clumsy chump who got in their way. Miss Murder Mittens was trying to be nice, probably, until Emry stepped on her. “I’m not upset with the cat,” Emry added.
“I am glad.” With the worst of the blood cleaned up, he opened a disinfectant square from the first aid kit. The cleaning solution stung slightly as he swabbed the gashes, but his touch was gentle. Gentler than his large hands had a right to be. Ren wasn’t the biggest alien she’d ever seen, but he was big by human standards and solid muscle.
“It looks bad.” Deep. Murder Mittens sank her, well, murderous mitts into the fleshy part of Emry’s leg just above the knee.
“This will require knitting gel. Do not worry. It will not leave a scar.”
Emry huffed. “Because I’m so worried about scars.”
He peered up at her through the lock of white hair. “That is sarcasm.”
“More self-deprecating, I think. I used to be very worried about my scars.”
“If you were concerned, why did you not have the scarring reduced?” he asked as he worked. With practice skill, he closed the gashes with peel-and-stick sutures before covering the wound with a thick gel.
“Well, insurance would only cover lifesaving treatment, not cosmetic. They didn’t care if the scars were ugly. They would pay for the bare minimum. The scar tissue doesn’t impair my vision or my speech. It’s only vanity in the end.” She had been lucky. A few more inches and she could have lost her eye.
Ren remained silent as he applied a bandage and sealed the edges.
“And it’s useful knowing who’s going to be a shallow jerk about it,” she explained. “People can be such creeps if you’re different. They love to mock you. Well, just the dickweasels.”
“Those sound most infuriating.”
“Annoying, really, but they don’t like it when you fight back. They piss themselves and run away.” Bullies never liked it when someone fought back.
As the years wore on with her scar, she almost forgot it was there until she caught someone staring.
Or whispering.
Or snickering.
Maybe it still bothered her a little.
“You know, it used to upset me. A lot. The person in the mirror wasn’t me. Especially when we first met. It was still raw, I guess. When I looked at Gemma… she’s my twin, you know. We’re identical but our hair is different, different clothes, all that. You can tell us apart, but her face always seemed like a reflection of my own.”
Facial expressions were different. Gemma bit down on her tongue, the end sticking out of her mouth when she was deep in thought. Emry had more freckles because she was lax about sunscreen. They may have started with the same base model, but experience and choices made them different. Even then, Gemma’s face was like her own. When Emry felt happy or frightened or so full of excitement she might burst, she only had to look over and find her emotions reflected back.
