The Alien's Revenge - Ella Maven Page 0,51
mostly whole fruits and meat. They hadn’t bothered to use herbs or find a grain to mill. They’d previously been employed by the Uldani who provided rations and after that, it’d been a war where they got by with whatever was easiest to procure.
Us Earthers wanted more—spices, sauces, and a little variety on our food pyramid. A lot we learned from Anna, who had ten years of experience on us. Ever since we started cooking, the Night Kings could barely stay out of the dining hall. It got to the point Daz put them all on a schedule which included regular exercise since a lot of the food we made had some, uh, extra calories. Oops. Couldn’t have out-of-shape Drixonians, I guessed.
Drak looked around the kitchen in wonder, watching as Frankie pulled a tray of cookies out of the wood-burning oven. Tabitha hummed to herself as she stirred a large pot of flavored meat on an oven-type device we’d had Hap make.
As I watched Drak, my smile faded, remembering that for ten years he’d lived on only food he had handled himself. Antella meat he’d hunted and dried. Fruit he’d picked. He hadn’t had time to play around with ingredients on this planet—he’d only been trying to survive.
I swallowed and focused on my biscuits. I had to make these huge—about the size of a dinner plate—as sandwiches for the Drixonians. On nights like this, we’d set out a buffet line in the dining hall. They’d file in with large leaves as plates, help themselves to a heaping sandwich full of meat along with whatever sides we made and carry it out to mill around the large fire in the center of the compound.
“Drak?” I called.
He stepped to my side immediately.
I gestured to the pail and cup in the corner. “Wash your hands and you can help me make these biscuits, okay?”
He followed my instructions immediately, washing halfway up his arms with such concentration, that I had to cough to cover my laugh. He returned to my side with his hands stretched out in front of him, so he didn’t touch anything.
After that, I showed him how to make the biscuits. He was a quick study, but I didn’t miss when he stole a ball of dough and popped it into his mouth when he thought I wasn’t looking.
When he tasted it, he smiled.
The sun was set by the time the clavas gathered around the fire to eat their meal. There was minimal talking as everyone ate, and I never got over the sight of the big strong Drixonians sitting with their leaf-plates balanced on their knees and the sauce from the meat dripping down their chins.
Tabitha sat with her sandwich half-eaten, her hand propped on her chin as she gazed around the fire.
“Tab, are you not hungry?” Naomi asked. We made smaller biscuits for us, which the guys would eat in literally one mouthful.
“Oh, I’m hungry.” Tab said. “But I made this meat with extra sauce on purpose and I’m not missing it.”
“What are you talking about?” Justine crunched a mouthful of crispy yona chips.
“We don’t serve napkins on purpose.”
“Yeah,” Frankie said. “Because the guys clean their faces with their tongues—” Her eyes went wide. “Oh.” She started laughing. “Tab, you’re ridiculous.”
“I’m not ridiculous!” Tab cried. “I don’t have any of those tongues to my lonesome, so I’m going to sit here and enjoy the show, okay? Go back to eating and leave me to my porn in piece. Jerks.”
Drak wasn’t paying attention to our words. I watched as he took a large bite, chewed, and then unfurled that devilish tongue to catch a drop of sauce that was about to drip off his chin. His piercings glimmered in the flames of the fire. He must have felt eyes on him because he glanced up to find me, as well as Naomi and Tabi, staring at him. He slowly drew his tongue back into his mouth and cocked his head with a questioning look. I burst into laughter.
After that, I indulged in Xavy’s spirits. Lately he’d been influenced by our activities in the kitchen and had begun flavoring his spirits. So, while they still burned up my entire esophagus and probably took about ten years off the life off my kidneys, at least they had a nice aromatic citrus hint to them like a bootleg White Claw.
I offered some to Drak, but he shook his head, and I got it; he remained wary of this place and these warriors. But