Page 32 of Shadows Approach
Rumor said Kalquorians were demanding when it came to sex. Alpha to the core. Maybe he’d put her on the desk. The vision erupting in her mind made her insides fizz like champagne.
“You don’t have plans already?” She hoped her tone wasn’t too breathy. He might get the wrong idea. Or would it be the right idea?
“To my knowledge, my clan’s evening will consist of dinner followed by either watching the news or a recorded concert. We’re a wild bunch.”
Stacy laughed. “I’d hate to impose on your night of rowdy delights.”
“Impose, please. I’m falling asleep from boredom thinking about it. I’ll com Rihep and ask him to upgrade whatever our meal plan was. We can do takeout.”
“I assumed Etnil did the food planning.”
Kuran snickered as he drew his com from its pouch on his belt. “I’d rather not subject you to one of his experiments. He recently discovered the existence of burritos and is beside himself in delight at all he can wrap inside tortillas. Considering the stuff he puts on pizza, I prefer letting Rihep decide on dinner.”
Alpha Space Station, that night
Stacy’s grilled rizpah on a bed of wedi-herbed gusasp was amazing. “This would be good as a burrito,” she told Etnil, who was indeed extolling the virtues of a new-to-him portable meal. “Fish burritos were popular on the first Earth.”
“I love it when a woman talks cuisine,” he sighed, batting his eyelashes at her. “Tell me more, brazen temptress. Tease me with visions of cramming my lunch in my mouth in one hand while jabbing patients full of sedatives with the other. Of Kuran enjoying a healthy, nutritious snack while stabbing his enemies. Or Rihep eating while he…while he…while he does whatever deadly boring job Rihep does.”
“Whatever it takes to avoid you for a few hours,” the Dramok chuckled.
“Tacos, Etnil. Hard-shelled folded tortillas filled with meat, cheese, sauces, lettuce, and tomatoes.” Stacy decided to match him for outrageousness, though she suspected he could exceed her easily. Her voice was husky as she recited, “Pasties, a sort of pie crust enclosing meat and other ingredients. Calzones, similar to pizzas but also in an enclosed crust. Kebobs, bite-sized food grilled on a stick.”
“Food. On. A. Stick.Mother of All.” He slapped a hand to his chest and mimed falling off his seating cushion in a faint.
“Now you’ve done it,” Rihep sighed. “He’ll be flying to Earth without clearance to gather sticks.”
“I’m sure I have skewers in my cavern of a kitchen,” Stacy said. “I’ll send you some.”
Etnil was lying half on the floor. His head wasn’t to be seen above the low table, but his hand rose to claw at the air in Stacy’s general direction. “Give them to me. I must have them.”
She laughed and had another bite of her rizpah.
The clan’s quarters on the space station were small but well organized. They made good use of the space. The dining area, where they ate, was large enough for the table and seating cushions on which they sat, and boasted plenty of storage for dishes and other items in its walls. They had what they referred to as a greeting room, where they entertained guests; a common room, a sort of den where they watched their version of television and relaxed; a kitchen; a bedroom; and small rooms for each clan member for private time. Stacy had seen far less functional apartments on Old Earth.
It was snug living, especially since its inhabitants were each over six-and-a-half-feet tall, but Stacy found it cozy. The men kept it neat, and they’d decorated tastefully with attractive and comfortable furnishings and mementos. Perhaps the ornamentation was somewhat sparse, but it wasn’t impersonal.
Etnil sat up and gave her a dazzling smile that belied the goofy turns he indulged in. “You must think I’m an absolute idiot.”
“You are,” Kuran deadpanned.
“I am. But I make up for it in many ways.”
“Oh really?” The lilt in her tone suggested innuendo, which she hadn’t intended. Had she? Her face warmed.
Etnil’s slow grin, Rihep’s raised brows, and Kuran’s wide eyes left her wishing the table sat high enough off the ground for her to crawl under.
Etnil wasn’t about to let the chance pass him by. “Really. You should see the size of my—”
“Etnil,” Rihep warned.
“—home brewing supplies. I make my own kloq,” he finished. He gazed at her innocently. “What were you referring to, Matara Stacy? Oh my goodness. Were you flirting with me?”
She shook her head at herself, laughing. What else could she do? “I suppose I was. I’ve had a challenging day, and being in the company of three handsome men has undermined my dignity.”
“Dignity is overrated,” Etnil said. “Keep telling me I’m handsome and spotlight any further attributes you find enticing. I fully endorse you undermining your dignity in such a fashion.”
“Tone it down,” Rihep told him. To Stacy, he said, “You realize we find you attractive?”