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When she had finished every last bite, she set the empty bowl aside with a satisfied sigh. "And that's combat rations for you guys? I can see why, I'm absolutely stuffed… and it's delicious!"
He nodded. "Every warrior has their own recipe and method for preparing field cake. We make the mixture ourselves… some use more water, some use less. How long you heat it for matters as well. You can eat the mixture cold if there's no opportunity for heat. My father taught me before he passed. His cake method was legendary in our family."
She smiled at his gruff words. "He must have been a wonderful cook. My grandmother was the same. Her recipes are sacred to our family."
"You come from a line of artisans then," he said, his rumble approving.
"I wouldn't call myself an artisan..." She ducked her head, oddly pleased by his words. It felt like something had shifted between them, just a little.
A light flashed on the console, and he looked away to tap at the controls. She sat back in her chair, biting her lip as triumph filled her.
Forget three days, she'd only needed three hours to get him to start talking to her.
5
They were almost there.
Vaarn looked over to where Sadie slept in the co-pilot's seat. She was so tiny she could curl up completely in it and was sleeping with her head resting on her delicate little hand. The glow from the console cast light over her face. He caught his breath. She had to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. There was an unfamiliar tug in his chest, the need to protect her welling up as he watched her.
He reached up to push his hair back from his face, and his fingers caught on the beads braided through the silver strands. They were honor beads, each one marking his achievements as a warrior.
He leaned forward, catching sight of his reflection on the console screen and winced. His stubble had grown in, giving him a less-than-groomed look, and he'd shoved his hair back into a messy bun. It looked like an oroitis nest.
He cut a glance at the sleeping female again. Did she see him as scary and intimidating? He frowned, the idea not sitting well with him. He didn't want her scared of him. He didn't think she was, there was fire in her eyes as she argued with him, so she couldn't be. But still, even the thought of it made him feel sick.
He glanced at her again as she shifted in her sleep. She turned toward him, and a golden curl fell over her face. He reached out to brush it back, taking care not to wake her. When his fingertips grazed her temple he let them linger for a moment. Warmth flooded his chest, and he drew his hand back slowly.
She was not his, she hadn't agreed to the claim he hadn't extended, so he needed to keep his distance. Treat her with the same respect he would treat an honored clan elder.
Gritting his teeth as he reminded himself of that, he stood.
Moving to the back of the cabin, he kept his movements as quiet as possible to avoid waking her. He opened his locker and pulled out his pack to rifle through its contents. Inside were a change of clothes and basic grooming supplies, everything he needed for a few days away from the station. He was used to living light and out of a pack; they all were, especially if they were assigned to a combat vessel. Any and all of them could be dropped on a battlefield for months.
His fingers brushed the folded uniform he'd added to the bottom of the pack. His formal uniform. Usually, he wore the standard combat uniform. The dark material was plain but functional, allowing him to move and work in comfort. Most of the time, he wore his toolbelt across his chest like an armorer's bandolier, loaded with what he needed for most engineering tasks and repairs. On duty, he kept his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. The style was practical and unassuming, befitting his role on the station, and not one that required a lot of thought or time out of his day.
Now though, he found himself pulling out the formal leathers. They were the same shoulder pattern as his regular uniform, but the leather had a hint of midnight blues and purples, like a cracrakis' wing. They were tailored to fit him but squeaked as he pulled them on. He didn't wear them a lot, preferring to be doing something, rather than parading around in bling and braid. He straightened the jacket, setting it over his shoulders. It might be a formal uniform, but he could still fight in it if he had to.
Pausing, he glanced at his reflection in the shiny metal of the locker door. He didn't have time to shave the stubble off his face, but he could do something about his hair. Reaching up, he loosened the tie at the nape of his neck and let his hair down. It took him a couple of minutes rooting in the pack to find his comb, then he attacked the knots until his hair flowed over his shoulders in a gleaming sheet. His braids were okay when he ran his fingers down them, checking if they needed re-doing. The beads that signified his rank and achievements clicked with each movement. He pulled a few front sections free and rebraided them to hang at the side of his face and show the beads off more.
Stepping back, he nodded in satisfaction. The formal leathers made him look important and dignified, and the honor beads showed he was a warrior. It was the kind of thing he might wear to greet foreign dignitaries on behalf of the empire. Or impress a certain human female...
He huffed. No need for him to preen and posture like some new recruit trying to catch a female’s eye at his first ceremonial feast. This wasn’t a social call. Putting his pack away and closing the locker door, he went to the front of the cabin again.
"Sadie," he said in a low voice, leaning over the sleeping female. When she didn't stir, he rested a hand on her slender shoulder. "Sadie, it's time to wake up now."
Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked up at him. Warmth spread through his chest as she smiled sleepily. He had to resist the urge to smooth back her tousled hair.
"Oh!" She sat up straighter, looking flustered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"It's quite alright," he rumbled.
Her gaze slid over him, taking in the formal leathers and the honor beads braided into his hair. He bit back his smile at the subtle widening of her eyes. He wasn't vain about his looks, but he had to admit her reaction pleased him.
"You… you look different," she said.
He arched a brow. "Different?"
Pink painted bright banners on her cheeks. "I mean, in a good way! Very dignified. The uniform is striking, and I like seeing your hair down. I don't think I've seen it down before."
