I rub my face, trying to awaken my mind from the memories that come back to me from Viriden’s testing pod. “I’ve had enough of crazy for today.”
“Understandable.” He reads the card and downs a shot of something. He grimaces, coughs, and sets the glass back. “Did not expect fruit to burn like that.”
I notice one that looks dark like chocolate, and it makes me wonder. “Can you even have that one?”
He grins and sets it before me. “Nope. It’s all yours.”
I smirk. “Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”
Zorin’s brows pinch upward. “Do humans do that to each other?”
“Yeah. All the time.” I take the shot, sigh, and down it. The burn is softer, and the creamy chocolate flavor hits the spot. “Okay. That was good. But no more.”
Zorin grins. “I can’t have this one either.”
He sets another shot glass before me that has a decorative jalapeno over the rim, basking in bright red liquid.
I laugh. “Fuck no. I do not have a death wish.”
Zorin shrugs, eats the pepper, then throws back the liquid. “Ooh. Spicy.” He swallows hard. “So…scavenging?”
I sip my cappuccino and tell him about living in a tent with Radar, finding scraps, how I sold them, and how our life was about constantly moving from crash site to crash site, and about all the things we had to watch out for in the woods from scorpions crawling into your blankets to bears and ticks. “Carielle wasn’t the only one thinking I was an easy take either.”
“That bitch is gonna die.”
I laugh once. “Good luck. It’s like she’s immortal.”
Zorin looks around, spots Davarok behind him chewing on something that looks like meat, looks up at him with a playfully questioning eye, and turns back around. “What would you have done if you didn’t end up a scrapper?”
“If I could’ve finished school, I might have got on as a translator for distant alien species. But I barely got through cultural introduction classes and foundational words.”
Our food arrives. Zorin thanks the server and devours his appetizer platter like he’s starving.
I gape at him as I work on my club sandwich and soup. “Is…that how you usually eat?”
He pauses, looks down at his messy plate and curls a lip. “F…orry. U..fed to it. Mi-mi-tary.”
I hide my amusement behind a hand.
He chews, swallows, and wipes his mouth on a napkin. “Might also be because of what we are. When we pack hunt, alphas eat first. But we have to fend off the others. Haven’t done that in a long time. But it’s…different fromuprighteating. Sometimes, I forget my manners.”
He downs another shot, then a fair portion of water.
“Isn’t that a lot?” I ask.
Zorin shakes his head. “Barely buzzed.”
His eyes are a hint shinier, and by the way they linger on me, I’m certain he’sat leastbuzzed.Typical guy, pretending he’s not wasted when he is.
“So what made you join ABR?” he asks.
“Myndrous were chasing me.” I tell him about finding the escape pod and trying to get away from the beast. “They gave me a safe place to stay. So here we are.”
“You didn’t join to find a mate?”
I drum my fingers on my mug. “I had someone once. A soldier.”
Zorin’s mood cools. “What happened?”
