“I do not believe that was a safe environment for a delicate female,” T’saran said sternly.
A bitter laugh escaped. “You think? But I don’t have a car and the diner was close to my apartment.” Apartment was a fancy term for a one room studio in a rundown building. “When my ex-husband divorced me, he managed to avoid paying me any alimony by providing me with living quarters for a year. He chose the cheapest thing he could find.”
“Husband?” His head tilted as he studied his wrist device, then he looked at her in horror. “You have a mate?”
“Not any more. I told you. He divorced me.”
The words still stung. While she had been happy to get out from under Adam’s thumb, she hadn’t been prepared for him to cast her aside so quickly after her father’s death. She wondered again if her father had anticipated that. She had been part of the arrangement when Adam was made a partner in the family business, but the will had left the rest of the business to Adam with no strings attached. As soon as the will was read, Adam had turned to her, eyes glinting with satisfaction.
“Looks like I don’t have to put up with your skinny ass and frigid ways anymore. I want you out of the house tomorrow.”
“What?” She’d stared at him. Her mind was still reeling from her father’s death. He had been harsh, and frequently unkind, but he had still been her father. Despite the fact that he’d never softened towards her, not even when she nursed him through that last endless year, she’d always hoped that her presence meant something. But no words of love or appreciation had ever crossed his lips, and the only thing he’d left her in his will was a boat. A boat moored miles away in North Carolina that she could neither use nor sell.
She was so lost in her bitter memories that it took her a long time to realize that T’saran was staring at her.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I do not understand this concept. Divorce. Is the translation interface correct? An Earth male would put aside his mate?”
“All too easily. You don’t have divorce in your society?”
He looked appalled. “No Yehrin warrior would ever put aside his L’ch… his mate.”
Despite his hasty amendment, she caught the slip. “That’s what you called me earlier. L’chka. You said it meant lady—you never said anything about it meaning mate.”
“I apologize.” He rubbed his chin, looking as embarrassed as a seven-foot tall, horned warrior could look. “I had no right to make that claim.”
“But you… wanted to? You don’t even know me.” Despite her protests, a small surge of pleasure filled her. No one had ever really wanted her before.
“A Yehrin warrior always knows his mate. And I do know you. You are both brave and beautiful.”
No one had ever called her beautiful before, either. She had gone from a pale, skinny teen to a pale, skinny woman, easily overlooked.
Before she could decide on a response, her stomach gurgled. T’saran looked confused.
“What was that noise?”
“Um, my stomach.” She could feel her cheeks heating. “I haven’t eaten.”
“You are hungry?” Once again, he looked appalled. “I will remedy that at once.”
He rose and went to the other wall, opening one of the cabinets to reveal shelves and a small microwave-type device. Then he stopped.
“The replicator is only programmed for Yehrin food. I do not know what to feed you.”
Replicator? She had the oddest sensation of being in a science fiction movie; however, the thought of alien food was not appealing.
“Um, maybe just some fruit?” She tried to think of something relatively innocuous. “Or soup? I eat a lot of ramen noodles.”
He frowned at the device. “I will try.”
“Also, do you have a bathroom?”
“There are no bathing rooms on the ship.” He turned to survey her, his eyes heating. “Although I find the thought most enticing.”
Dammit, she was blushing again. “I didn’t mean bathing—although that does sound wonderful. I meant, um, urinating.”
To her relief, he didn’t laugh. Instead, he opened another cabinet door to reveal a small white closet that looked barely large enough to fit him. There was nothing inside.
“How does this work?” she asked doubtfully.
He walked her through the buttons, including one that thankfully made an odd shaped toilet emerge from the wall.
“Would you like to shower as well?” he asked.
“Oh, yes.” She hadn’t realized how much she longed to be clean until he suggested it, but the thought of removing the grime of the alley, not to mention the persistent fast food stench of the diner, was almost unbearably tempting.
He showed her how to operate the shower, then rubbed his chin. “Would you like something else to wear? I am afraid the only thing I can offer you is a mutashi.”
“Mutashi?”
“We wear it for certain types of training. And for leisure times.” He opened another cabinet and pulled out a pair of loose white pants and a wrap top.
Both of them would swallow her whole but they were still better than her torn uniform. She nodded, and he showed her where to place them to keep them dry while she showered.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully.
“You are very welcome. I only wish I had clothing appropriate to your beauty.”
Unable to think of a response, she bit her lip and escaped into the shower unit.
A significant amount of time passed before she emerged. To her delight,
