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Poking her head out of the door, she scanned the living space for Jamen. He wasn’t there. Unsure what to do, she wandered around until she decided it would be okay for her to find something to eat. She discovered cupboards with nearly invisible handles and inside them, packages and boxes of what appeared to be dried food. Checking one, she saw something like granola or chunky cereal. She nibbled on a piece—bland but digestible—then helped herself to more. As for liquid, she was somewhat stumped. She leaned on things, pressed panels, hoping to find a refrigerator or a hidden sink.
She munched on the food until her mouth was too dry to swallow.
Jamen cleared his throat. She spun on her toes and faced him. His black hair was wet and shiny. He wore, if that was the correct word, something resembling a towel draped around his waist. His bare chest glistened with damp and the tattoo shimmered. She stared at the circles: he was right, it mesmerized.
“You’re looking for water?” he asked with a smile. “We don’t have milk on Halos.” He must have tried it out for breakfast on Earth and knew what she’d been hunting for.
“No milk?” She would miss it.
“Nowhere for such animals to graze.” He slid his finger along the surface of the worktop and a faucet rose up. “You must be thirsty.”
A tube shot out and from it a trickle of water. She leaned forward and sucked on the end. It must save on washing up, not having glasses or crockery. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The temptation to reach out and whip away the towel surprised her. His bronze skin stretched over his sturdy frame, highlighting every sinew and muscle. On previous occasions, she’d traced many of them, some more than others. His physical presence had quickly become familiar to her and yet she still craved to know him more intimately.
“You’re dressed,” he said, stepping away.
She dropped her arms to her sides. “Is it morning? I can’t tell.”
He moved toward the wall running along the length of the apartment. As he did, it began to glow like the one in her bedroom. The daylight streamed into the room, lighting up the soft texture of the floor and the high ceiling.
“It’s morning,” he said softly. “You slept the night away.”
“Short night.” She grinned.
“You dressed,” he repeated.
She picked at her sleeve. “I had to change out—”
“You don’t have to.” He turned his back to the luminescent wall. His face was cast in shadows. The rest of him silhouetted. She’d forgotten his proportions—the breadth of his shoulders, the bulk of his biceps and his tapered waist. Since they’d woken from stasis, she’d not seen him so bare, so nearly naked and smolderingly hot. His invisible heat reached out, twisted itself around her body until she was sure it would melt her—a surreal sensation.
“I don’t have to?” she reiterated, a little confused.
“I don’t expect it.”
She caught a glimpse of his brilliant eyes. They were sparkling. “Oh,” she said slowly. He’d never mentioned any requirements about clothes in the hotel when she’d stayed over.
“When you’re here, you shouldn’t dress. Unless I want it,” he emphasized.
Her eyes widened and her heartbeat quickened. “Naked?”
“Always.”
She gaped, her jaw tensing. There wasn’t any point in asking why. “Now?” she whispered. Her clothes felt tight and oppressive. Her mouth was going dry again, too.
“Unfortunately, I must work.” He moved in the direction of the sleeping area. “You will have to come with me.” He disappeared behind the dividing screen.
She heard the rustle of fabric. He was dressing. The moment of heated thoughts, whatever they might have been, was gone. He hadn’t the time, or perhaps he had and wanted to give her time to adjust to her arrival. She could never be sure with Jamen.
The elevator took them down one floor and into an expansive corridor. Her heels echoed on the hard floor as she trotted alongside Jamen.
“My office is the last door.” He gestured to the far end. Before they reached it, another door opened.
The Vendu were like clones sometimes. At first glance, she thought it was another version of Jamen. Except, on closer inspection, she saw his eyes were lighter, his neck narrower and his nose rounded. In fact, as she listened to Jamen and the other man talk, there were plenty of differences. Her eyes were tuning in on the subtleties. Unfortunately, the speech was still meaningless.
She waited by Jamen, patiently with her hands behind her back and eyes flitting around, so as not to draw attention to her need to stare at the stranger. His rumbling voice ended and Jamen touched her arm.
He introduced her. She heard her name mentioned. She heard ‘hanjin.’ The other man nodded, then a smile crafted his face and the somber expression vanished. He slapped Jamen’s arm and laughed loudly.
Another door opened. This time it was a woman. Tall and slender, she stepped out but went no further when she spotted the two men. Paige masked her surprise and embarrassment with a quick glance away. The woman was wearing little more than a skimpy tight dress that stopped short of her knees and left her arms bare. Coils of tattoos festooned her limbs and her red hair sat on top of her head in short spikes.
