Page 92 of Ren: Warlord Brides
Jaxar spoke. “There is Val Mori.”
Paax frowned. “The atmosphere was toxic.”
“Low levels that could be easily mitigated,” Jaxar said. He pulled up maps and schematics, projecting the images over the table. “There are existing structures in place. The base is no longer used for research, so we do not have to worry about displacing civilians. Abandoned mine shafts can be used for shelters. It’s a good choice.”
“The atmosphere is toxic,” Havik said, as if no one gave that enough credence. Ren had to agree. He grew up on a toxic planet. Too much could go wrong with a broken seal.
“Bring me other options,” Paax said. “I want a location close enough to the core planets that we will not arrive four days after a raid and far enough away that the Council will not cry foul. We’re digging in. The Suhlik left us a message on Tholla. They are already knocking on our airlock.”
The second Invasion had begun.
Emry
The computer’s AI lit a path along the corridor, subtle green arrows leading her to Ren’s cabin. She needn’t have bothered. Mittens knew the way and took the lead, trotting off in her harness and practically dragging Emry through the ship. When she was too slow, Mittens looked over her shoulder with grumpy disdain.
The stop at the dining hall was tolerated only because half a dozen warriors showered Mittens with pets and treats, as was her due.
Eventually, Mittens diverged from the green arrows. Emry figured the cat knew a shortcut and tried not to question the wisdom of following a barely domesticated cat’s direction.
When they arrived at a nondescript cabin door, it slid open. Any doubts as to if this was the correct place vanished. An enormous cat tree dominated the room. Designed to look like an actual tree, the trunk twisted, and leafy fronds decorated carpeted platforms.
Emry unhooked the harness and Mitten dashed for the tree, scrabbling up and vanishing into a cocoon-type… bed? Cat cave? Emry wasn’t up on the cat jargon.
“Ren is such a cat daddy,” she muttered and refilled the water and food dishes.
Cat toys lay scattered across the floor, and a liberal amount of fur decorated the furniture. It was homey. Comfortable. She easily pictured Ren sprawled on the sofa, Mittens perched on his chest, lazily watching some program, and she wanted to be part of that. That contentment. That ease.
The rest of the cabin was clean-ish, even if the neglected air of bachelorhood hung about. She wiped down the table and the surfaces in the tiny kitchenette, then set out plates and cups for dinner. Unpacked, the meal she picked up from the dining hall took up most of the counter space. She plated the meal, made that horrible tea Ren liked, and waited.
Before the food had a chance to cool, Ren arrived, looking harangued. A smile broke across his face, and he strode across the room. He pulled her to her feet for a bone-shattering hug and kiss.
“Tough day at the office?” she asked.
“It is improving. You are in the wrong cabin.”
“I knew it! Mittens, you did me dirty.” Emry wagged a playful finger at the cat. Mittens blinked and yawned.
“Ah, this is the home she knows. We have been assigned a family suite.”
“Does that mean a larger cabin?” The current cabin was not generous, but the cleansing room was enormous. Much better than the facility on Ren’s ship.
“Yes. More than enough space for two,” he said.
“But enough space for Mitten’s cat tree?”
He rubbed his chin. “Unknown.”
Emry laughed and motioned for Ren to sit at the table. “Eat before it gets cold.”
“You should not be preparing meals. You need to rest. The last day has been stressful.”
Lots of stuff to unpack there, but she ignored it for the moment. “Sit. Eat. I picked this up from the dining hall. Imagine my surprise that it’s Taco Tuesday.”
Mittens chose that moment to emerge from her cat cave and sauntered over to Ren. She climbed up his legs, into his arms, and gave their meals an inquisitive sniff.
“I refilled her food dish,” Emry said.
“Yes, but I owe her treats because she is a good feline.” The look on his face was embarrassing. She loved him so much.
