Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,59

as much as actual intercourse would have done.

Almost.

But if he could draw enough laughter to banish the worried look from her luminous blue eyes, he was content.

For now.

Sitting down to breakfast with her gang after a restful night was an event Klara never imagined she would ever experience. Even less would she have guessed she would be sitting next to a man like Moe. She had always known such men existed, but her chances of actually meeting one were so infinitesimal, fate or some higher power had to be responsible. She couldn’t imagine any random Zetithian man capturing her heart so easily. Especially a heart she had always suspected was incapable of that kind of...

Love?

The chemistry was definitely there between them, but love? She wasn’t sure about that. She didn’t know whether the whole mating process even required love. Perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps love came later. Either way, she could already feel her life becoming inextricably entwined with his, and it had happened with unbelievable speed. Simply sitting beside him was almost as special as sharing a bed and the lovemaking that went with it.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Nexbit commented as he passed her a platter of roasted aubergat stalks. “Didn’t sleep well?”

She needed every ounce of her resolve to keep from glowering at the Sympaticon. “I slept very well, thank you. I’m just…thinking.”

Nexbit nodded. “We do have plenty of food for thought these days. Like how we weren’t set upon by Nedwuts during the night. Can’t believe they haven’t found us yet.”

“No one found you because you were protected,” Velkma said.

“How?” Nexbit asked.

“We have our ways,” the old woman replied. “Ways we have learned over time.”

By that, Klara assumed she had no intention of sharing the secret, which was probably for the best. If they didn’t know the secret, they couldn’t betray it.

“I don’t know why I’m so sleepy,” Temfilk said with a yawn.

“Must be all the food you’ve eaten since yesterday,” Nexbit said. “Nobody could stay awake after that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Temfilk snapped. “I’ve seen how much you’ve put away. My intake is nothing compared to yours.”

The Racks began chattering as the platter of stalks reached them, almost as though they’d been handed a feast. Klara started to remark on this until she recalled the last time they’d had such a treat. “Those are your favorites, aren’t they, Bik?”

“Yah, boss,” Bik replied.

She waited for him to say more, but of course he didn’t. The damage that had been done to them seemed permanent. That was one atrocity for which Pelarus wasn’t responsible. Off the top of her head, she couldn’t think of anything else that wasn’t. At least, nothing related directly to her. She wanted to work up more hatred toward him, wanted to make him atone for the deaths of her mother and brothers, but nothing would bring them back now. However, the culture and environment of Haedus Nine could be restored. That is, if the methods Moe told them about were even possible. In many ways, the planet seemed too far gone to save. Better to relocate the remaining population. There couldn’t be very many.

“You’re thinking again,” Temfilk chided with a lilting tone.

She slapped her palms on the table and glared at him. “When haven’t I been thinking? I’ve been focused on keeping us safe and finding our next meal for so long, you should be used to it.”

“Yes, but right now, you don’t have to concern yourself with those things. You have Moe now. You should learn to relax more.”

“I would’ve relaxed plenty if you’d gone ahead and had breakfast without us,” she retorted. “Besides, how could I possibly relax when I’m charged with spearheading a revolution? That’s a much heavier responsibility.”

Moe cleared his throat. “I think we need to come up with a different topic. Hot tempers are bad for the digestion, or so my mom always told me.”

“That is quite true,” Velkma said. “Mealtimes should be joyous and convivial, otherwise the food is wasted.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Nexbit said. “Food eaten is never wasted.”

Temfilk rolled his bulbous eyes. “Maybe not on you.”

“Please, just stop,” Klara begged as the room began to spin. “I don’t…feel well.” She lurched sideways, gripping the edge of the table in a desperate attempt to remain upright.

“Wow. That was fast,” Moe said under his breath.

“What are you talking about?” She had never felt this bad in her entire life. Not from grief, illness, injury, fear, or starvation. And it had struck her with less warning than a