Warmth blossoms amidst the confusion in my chest. Was it a sedative? Vitamins? Poison?
Seeing me still reeling, Razul gently places a magenta berry on my tongue. My brain switches modes, and I obediently chew.
I let Razul feed me the berries—until an overripe one lands on my tongue.
Mushy and tart, it makes my whole face scrunch up.
Razul fixes this with a slice of the green fruit.
Then he offers me another magenta berry, but this one’s different. It’s only a half.
When I hesitate, he presses it onto my tongue; it’s delicious.
Then I watch him as he picks up the next berry and bites it in half. He sets this one aside. He bites into the next one, then offers the remaining half to me.
Two more get set aside, then the next lands in my mouth.
He’s patiently sampling each berry, making sure it’s one of the good ones before handing it to me.
It will take me twice as long to eat a proper amount, and he won’t be able to do anything else in the meantime.
Yet he seems to be enjoying himself.
Razul doesn’t let my confusion delay my meal, continuing to press berry halves into my mouth as I struggle to process what’s happening.
Emotion overwhelms me, and tears suddenly well in my eyes. I dive for the blankets on instinct, but Razul scoops me to his chest.
I don’t even know why I’m crying, but he just holds me and pets my hair.
Andromeda said the hormones could do this. I already hate it.
Razul’s grip tightens around me, one hand circling my head and pressing it to his chest, the other supporting my spine.
The pressure helps my breath deepen and regulate. The wave of emotion drains away. His warm hands dry my cheeks.
Razul’s legs move behind him, reaching for a few objects in the kitchen. Then he offers me something new—a large glass container full of a viscous golden liquid, topped with a polymer nipple, like you’d use to bottle-feed a baby deer.
Razul cradles me and holds it to my lips.
Embarrassment makes my cheeks warm, but I take it into my mouth, pressing tentatively with my tongue.
A taste like honey mixed with butter fills my mouth, rich and sweet. My eyes widen. It’s as if it’s been scientifically designed to be irresistible to the human nervous system.
Highly palatable foods like this are banned by the ICSS for individuals demonstrating restricted intake. They always said it would reinforce the behavior, even when I suggested that maybe eating something was better than eating nothing.
I suck harder as the perfect flavor fills my mouth and pours down my throat.
Razul speaks soothing noises over me as I drink and drink.
My whole body goes warm and tingling, especially my breasts and belly.
I finally do something I haven’t done in a long, long time: I stop because I’m full. Panting to catch my breath, I adjust to the sensations in my body. My stomach is tight, but that tingling warmth is pleasant.
I lick my lips and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and Razul holds the bottle for me a while longer before setting it aside.
Sleepiness rises around me, and I snuggle back into the blankets. All my energy goes to digesting, leaving nothing available for fretting as I drift into another hazy, warm slumber.
CHAPTER 7
