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As Margo laughed, she wondered if he was confusing the words on purpose to lighten the mood after their previous conversation from before.
Probably.
He hadn't mentioned transition or induction since returning with her drink.
"What did I say?" Negal pretended to look puzzled.
"It's wicked pasta. Not evil pasta."
"My bad." He cast her that dazzling smile again, the one that probably had other women dropping their panties for him.
"I should go back to my cabin and get some sleep." She tried to get up, but with how tight her dress was, it was difficult.
When she tried the second time, she found herself in Negal's arms. "I'll carry you to your cabin. You look like you are about to pass out."
Margo wound her arms around his neck for balance, not because it felt good to do that, and she was going to stick to that claim no matter what.
Still, she needed to make sure that he didn't have any unrealistic expectations.
Except, she didn't know how to say that without sounding both presumptuous and ungrateful. If she told him that there was no chance that she was inviting him to her bed tonight, it would sound as if she assumed that was his intention, and it might not be. On the other hand, if it was, and she made it clear that it wasn't going to happen, she would sound like she didn't appreciate all that he had done for her and all that he was still willing to do.
42
NEGAL
"Can you please get my purse?" Margo asked. "It's on the table next to the margarita."
Negal had a feeling that there was something else she'd wanted to say, but she seemed frazzled, and he didn't want to push her any further than he already had.
"Of course." He bent his knees, held her to his chest with one arm, and grabbed the purse off the table. "Here you go." He handed it to her.
"You are incredibly strong," she murmured.
"I am. It's part of my enhancements." He walked down the terrace to where there was an additional set of doors that opened to the lobby.
Margo hadn't said anything when he had picked her up, but he had no doubt that she wouldn't want him to carry her through the dining room in view of all the guests.
"Enhancements? Do you mean as compared to a human or compared to other gods?"
He smiled. "I'm glad that even when you are so tired, you are just as sharp as usual. I've been genetically engineered to be stronger than many of the gods. I was destined to be a soldier."
Her expression soured. "Is that common where you come from? Are people's lives decided on even before they are born?"
"To some extent, yes. But once my tour of duty is over, I can do whatever I want."
That wasn't entirely true, but it was close enough. He could do whatever he wanted within the parameters of his class provided that he got approval, which often took decades or even centuries.
The bureaucrats took their sweet time going over every application and voting on every candidate's suitability for the particular colony they applied for. It was all done in the name of democracy and equality, supposedly ensuring fair treatment, but it was anything but.
"When will your tour be over?" Margo asked.
"You don't want to know." He entered the lobby and headed toward the elevators. "Which deck are you on?"
"Deck three, and I do want to know."
He should have expected her to say that. Margo was inquisitive, and she wasn't afraid of hard answers to her questions. Still, he was hesitant about revealing his age. Eventually she would ask, and he would have to answer, but for now, he preferred not to go there.
"My tour could have already been over, but I signed up for another one." He decided to take the stairs just because it would allow him to hold her in his arms for a little longer.
