Chapter 11

Lorran:

“Are pants optional now? I mean, I’m not complaining. Please, continue.”

Skin bare, he worked this way through the warrior’s forms. The exercise brought a peaceful meditative state to his mind and prepared his body for the day. The lack of clothing was down to habit. He slept nude. He did his morning routine nude.

That his mate appreciated the view was a bonus.

Wyn stood in the patio doorway, a steaming mug cradled in her hand. She slouched against the frame, the excess fabric of his shirt slipping down her shoulders. Bathed in sunlight, her coppery skin glowed.

His hungry eyes followed the voluptuous lines of her legs from the ground until her thighs disappeared under the shirt.

He enjoyed the sight of her wearing his shirt and nothing else. Tattoos etched into his skin flared to life. Desire crawled up from his wrists, lighting the black to a silvery glow.

“I’m wearing a smile,” he replied, which earned him a snort.

When he returned to their room late the previous night, Wyn was already asleep. Determined not to disturb her, he grabbed a pillow and slept on the floor. If his position at the foot of the bed was a touch like a guard fretti, so be it.

“Do you like companion animals?” He had a sudden need to know if she would enjoy her own fretti. “When I was young, we had a fretti. They are fiercely loyal. Barco followed me everywhere,” he said.

“You had a dog named Barco?”

“Not a dog. A fretti. Quite different. About this tall, with a tail and floppy ears. Licks a lot.”

“Sounds like a dog. I never had a pet growing up, and Sonia is allergic to anything fluffy. Oh,” she added quickly, “Sonia is my friend and roommate.”

He nodded, having decided that when they settled comfortably, they would find a companion animal. “I have wanted a companion animal, but I feared that on my own, I would be a poor guardian. I was away too often.”

“Well, I’m open to the idea so long as a fretti is fluffy and cute and not, you know, secretly a giant spider.”

“Would you be agreeable to a fluffy spider?”

She shuddered, but her grin conveyed a playful mood. “No. Too many eyes.”

“What a narrow and dull aesthetic you have.”

“You’re questioning my tastes? I’ve seen Mahdfel design. Big fan of brutalism, are you?”

Brutality was an unpleasant truth, but he believed her use of the word conveyed some other meaning. He said, “Multiple eyes allow you to see your foes approach from many directions, which is clearly a superior evolutionary trait.”

“Superior or not, I’m not having fluffy spiders in our home.”

Our home.

He had never heard sweeter words.

“Join me.” Lorran rose to his feet and lifted his arms in a slow stretch. The morning air held a bracing chill. He tilted his face to the sun.

“Out of curiosity, what are you doing?” Wyn set down her mug and ventured onto the patio.

“The warrior’s forms. This is a child’s stance.” He planted his feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. He then dropped to his knees, hands flat on the ground, and brought his bottom to his heels. The muscles in his hips and lower back burned as they stretched, telling him he had reached the age when sleeping on the floor was best avoided.

In a smooth motion, he raised his hips and rolled back upright. One foot lunged forward, he twisted his torso and extended his arms.

“Every warrior trains in the forms. The exercise keeps me flexible.” He learned the forms at a young age and could go through the motion in his sleep. In fact, after a rowdy night out with friends, he did.

“Hmm. I mean, what are you doing butt-naked? It’s too damn cold out here to be parading about in your birthday suit.”

“I want to feel the sun. I miss it,” he said, honestly.

Wyn cast a doubtful eye at the sky. The sun poked through a cloudy sky, but it was still sunshine.

“There is no weather onboard the Judgment. It is the same temperature and the same lighting, always.”

“That makes sense. Luckily, I don’t think the neighbors will complain.” She stood next to him, feet shoulder-width apart. “Show me again. Slowly, please.”

He demonstrated again, moving at a controlled pace. She copied his movements, squeaking as she attempted to rest her hands flat on the ground.

“This is very difficult with boobs,” she said.

“Yes, but I am enjoying the aesthetic.”

She straightened and gave him a playful swat. As much as he longed to linger here in their private oasis, surrounded by greenery and nearly alone on an abandoned world, the mission would not wait. Any moment, Mylomon would beat on the door and bark orders.

“There is much to be done today and I want you near me at all times,” Lorran said.

Wyn:

Day four in space: find a naked alien out the back door doing his morning yoga.

Yeah.

On one hand, yowzah. He wasn’t joking about his dick being noteworthy. It hung there like a club. On the other hand, who does that? Just hangs out in the buff. They might be technically married and maybe kissed once or twice, but they didn’t know each other like that.

And Lorran looked so damn happy just sitting in a puddle of sun like a cat. Well, a panther or leopard or some flavor of large murder cat, not like a regular kitty cat. As gorgeous as he was—Wyn couldn’t deny that he fit the traditionally attractive mold to perfection—it wasn’t gross or perverse. He just was.

Wyn didn’t think she’d ever be comfortable just being uncovered, tits out and flaunting what her momma gave her. She wondered if the lack of modesty was a Mahdfel thing or a Lorran thing.

He wanted to get a dog together—a space dog or whatever. Bringing another life into their relationship felt too big. How could they be responsible for another living being when they barely knew each other?

True to his prediction, Mylomon arrived, and they went off to take a gander at the shuttle. While Lorran and Mylomon inspected the shuttle for visible damage, Wyn found a flight of stone steps that went to the top of the grass-covered buildings.

“Do not stray far,” Lorran cautioned.

From the top, the sun sparkled on the open ocean. A steady breeze did its best to make a mess of her hair. It was a gorgeous view, with new spring greenery all around and salt in the air. Her vantage point overlooked the two Mahdfel men while they removed external paneling from the shuttle. Periodically, Lorran looked up to check on her. If she had any concern about the shuttle sticking out like a sore thumb when they were meant to be lying low, the dull gray of the shuttle blended in with the gray concrete.

Huh. So that design choice served a purpose and wasn’t a tragic lack of inspiration.

Well, that showed her about being a design snob. She wanted to remember all these details to tell her mother and Sonia when they eventually got back to civilization and a working network connection.

Seated on a stone block worn with age, she took out what supplies she had: a block of watercolor paper, a travel paint box and a brush. Sketching would have been easier, but for the first time since she could remember, she needed to hold a paintbrush.

She opened the watercolor paint box for the first time in years. Years. She half expected moths to come fluttering out. The cakes had dried and shriveled in the pan. Poor things. Still, nothing moisture couldn’t fix.

Using a water brush pen, she dabbed the brush into the green and gave a gentle squeeze to get the water flowing. She made test swatches, reacquainting herself with the feel of the brush. Soon, she had a page filled with the same swirling design she always doodled in a rainbow of colors.

The sun burned away the lingering cloud cover, and the air warmed. The men ventured into buildings and returned with mechanical parts that had seen better days. The buildings were a mix of mechanical garages and supply storage. Their conversation drifted up to her ears. She caught snatches of “I’m not an engineer,” and, “That is what videos on the network are for,” and, most alarmingly, “A hammer will make it fit.”

Wyn had a feeling they would be there for a few days.

At some point, Lorran removed his shirt. His back muscles flexed as he hauled out boxes and crates from the supply storeroom. A complex pattern of tattoos spread across his shoulders and down his arms. The sunlight washed out the lavender in his complexion, making the black tattoos more prominent still.

He stretched slowly, raising his arms above his head, and lowering, giving a heck of a gun show. It wasn’t her imagination when he turned her way and winked.

Impossible man.

Wyn frowned because he was such a shameless flirt. However, when she focused on the workbook in her lap, a smile crept up on her.

Saavi and Mikah came out to check on progress. Saavi seemed remote, almost uninterested, but she burned her husband the day before. Wyn wasn’t one to judge.

Mikah, however, seemed fascinated by Lorran and Mylomon’s efforts, peppering them with questions about the shuttle, the parts, the tools they used, and even the boots they wore. He especially seemed fascinated with Mylomon.

“Why don’t you have any clan markings? Do you not have a clan?”

“I do,” Mylomon answered gruffly.

“It’s fine if you don’t. My father does not. Did not. I do not.” Mikah picked up every tool Mylomon set down, turning it over in his hands. “When I am older, do you think I can join yours?”

“There will always be a place for an honorable warrior.”

Wyn grabbed a fresh page and roughly sketched out the scene in pencil. She painted in broad strokes of gray and purple, knowing she could always add finer details once the paper dried. In the moment, she felt invisible binds slipping away as muscle memory moved the brush. She loved this so much, adding a drop of paint and watching it spread as water moved across the page.

She captured the sky, a strange grayish-green where it met the landscape. Far away, the tall grasses were unnervingly similar to regular grass from Earth. Closer inspection showed her pink fronds, deep purple striation, and even a cluster that was a deep green at the base and faded to a neon pink.

Wyn tossed the workbook down.

Nothing was right. Everywhere she looked, she found something worth capturing, but her paint never quite captured the colors. Light filtering through the atmosphere seemed different, and she remembered Sonia’s attempts to capture Mummy Brown, a color that no longer existed. Try as she might, her efforts to catch the light in water and pigment eluded her.

Lorran climbed the steps to join her, pulling her out of her frustration. “I have done all I can here, and it will soon rain.”

As if on cue, fat droplets fell.

Tomorrow, then.

Rushing, Wyn packed up the paint box and brush, frustration lingering. The workbook bulged with loose sheets, none of them exactly what she intended. She knew she couldn’t expect to pick up a brush for the first time in years and expect a masterpiece. She’d keep practicing and working at it.

The sputtering rain turned the stone steps slippery. Carefully, she picked her way down, holding onto the corroded railing. At the bottom, her foot slipped.

Lorran reached out, catching her before she tumbled, but her workbook fell to the ground. Papers scattered, fluttering in the breeze.

A booted foot stomped on one page. “You are talented. What is the meaning of this pattern?”

Caldar held the test page.

“Nothing. Just a warmup.” She snatched it away and slammed the workbook shut, not caring about what the rain did to the paper.

“Is the shuttle repaired?” Caldar asked Lorran.

“It will fly,” he replied.

“It flew before.”

The two men stared down at each other. Tension crackled between them. Wyn thought she had understood the meaning of if looks could kill, but she didn’t know until that moment.

“In a hurry? You claimed we needed to wait out the Suhlik patrols,” Lorran said.

“It is a long journey to the core planets. I would not want it to be longer.”

“The shuttle requires a bio signature to operate. As is standard protocol, if you were wondering.”

Toe to toe, Lorran had height and weight on Caldar, but gut instinct told Wyn that the old guy didn’t fight fair. Not that she expected them to break into fisticuffs, but the situation did feel like a dick measuring contest.

Wyn cleared her throat.

Caldar’s gaze broke away. “Do not let your mate stand in the rain. Even a youth should know better.”

Lorran:

That male.

“It’s fine,” his mate said.

“No, it is not fine. Give me your burden. I will carry them.”

“I dunno what that guy’s problem is,” she said, handing him the heavy bag. The rain continued as they made their way back to the facility’s entrance.

“I suspect he is the type of male who is bored easily and enjoys playing with people like toys.”

“Yeah, he seems the type.”

The warlord warned Lorran of Caldar, but also said he was useful. Dangerous, but useful. “I think he has been too long on his own,” he said.

The decontamination chamber cycled through and released them.

“When the Suhlik patrols move on, we will return to the Judgment. It is only a matter of days.”

Even as he spoke the words, he knew them to be misleading. The Suhlik had a skilled hunter’s patience, endless and tireless. He would determine the nature of Ulrik’s research, take the female and child to Sangrin, and he would never have to deal with that male again.