She leaned over her plate and took a deep breath through her nose, breathing out through her mouth to keep the scents in place before taking another long breath. Her eyes rolled shut, the aroma even twining around her tongue, making her salivate.
“I take it you like brunch,” Eric said.
She realized she was not behaving the way the Earthlings surrounding her were. In fact, when she glanced at the nearby tables, several humans were laughing, while others stared at her, their eyes as wide as if they’d seen a mated pair of Lyrians propagating.
She snorted at the image, turning her gaze back toward Eric. He didn’t seem shocked. Or amused. He just looked…confused.
And handsome.
“Why hands?” Sorca said.
Eric’s dark eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Pardon me?”
“What are hands in relation to ‘handsome’?”
“I don’t know the etymology of it,” he said. “You should ask Brendan.”
“I will, when I see him next.” She gestured at Eric’s plate, and said, “Begin.”
If he ate first, she could mirror his actions to avoid further unusual behavior on her part.
“I… Uh…” Eric shook his head. “Okay.”
He picked up a silver device with several parallel prongs that would make a fairly effective stabbing weapon, and another that looked like a metal stick or some kind of useless knife. The edge was blunt and the hilt had no guard to keep his hand safe should he try to kill something with it.
Eric stabbed one of his white nebulas with the pronged tool, then used the not-quite-functionless knife to cut off a section, which he lifted to his mouth.
“Interesting,” she murmured.
“Me eating eggs is interesting?” He let out a short laugh.
The white nebulas were called eggs. She made a mental note, even though she knew it was unlikely she would ever encounter this delightful food again.
He pointed at her plate with his knife, and said, “If you think that’s interesting, you should poke one of the yolks with your toast and see what happens.”
She looked at her plate, trying to figure out which thing was “toast” and which was “yolk”. Perhaps “toast” was the word for the silver pronged item. He’d used his to stab his egg segment and lift it to his mouth. But then, what was “yolk”?
She picked up the silver toast and held it in a killing grasp, quickly striking the triangles on her plate. At the last moment, she remembered to hold back her blow. She didn’t want to harm the implements of eating, nor was she ready for Eric to witness her strength.
The metal toast impaled the compressed-sand yolk, a shower of tiny granules breaking off from it as it split in half with a satisfying crunch. Sorca looked up at Eric, beaming at her accomplishment.
He still looked confused.
“That’s not… Here.” He set down his toast and knife, then picked up a piece of his yolk, and said, “Toast.”
“Oh.”
The compressed-sand triangles were “toast”? Then what was “yolk”? And why would she poke anything with a piece of food?
He pointed at his plate, toward the bright-sun centers of his eggs. “Yolks.”
He gently poked the circle of orange with his toast. Thick fluid burst forth, running over the white segments of his eggs.
She sucked in a breath, her gaze darting to her plate. She didn’t bother with the toast, but jabbed a finger into the yolk.
It offered little resistance, the somewhat slimy coating giving way beneath her fingernail. The fluid within was hot. More of it gushed out around her finger, flowing over the nebula-white eggs.
She lifted her hand, laughing as the viscous orange goo dripped onto her plate. She darted her finger into her mouth, eager to taste it.
Words failed her, at least in the primitive language they used on this planet. She had no sensory experience to compare with the yolk’s smooth texture or the solar storm of its taste. Her tongue seemed to come alive for the first time. Prickles of sensation flooded along her arms, the fine hairs standing on end as the follicles beaded.
She pulled her finger from her lips, sucking every last molecule of yolk from its surface. More. She wanted more.
The sound of metal clanging on ceramics brought her attention back to Eric. She opened her eyes to see him leaning back in his chair with both hands over his face. He dropped his palms to the table and shook his head.
“Listen, I don’t know what Brendan’s up to,” he said, “But this… I’m not into this.”
She set her hands firmly on the table, mirroring his posture. “What do you think ‘this’ is?”
He took a long breath and let it out slowly, his gold-brown eyes staring at her intently. “Brendan has been after me to do more R&R. My job doesn’t really allow for that.”
“Arenar? What is that?”
“Rest and relaxation. R and R.”
“Rejuvenation cycles. I see. And you think he has sent me to you to assist with this ‘R and R’, yes?”
“Didn’t he?”
She smirked at him, then picked up a segment of toast and dipped it into the delicious yolk. She thoroughly saturated what she now understood to be the edible carrying mechanism before bringing it to her mouth and slowly taking a bite.
The toast crunched. The sound was immensely satisfying. And the flavor of the yolk was heightened by another smooth substance that had been spread on the toast. There was a saline element to it that countered the thickness of the orange fluid, much like the crisp texture of the toast countered the yolk’s smoothness.
She let the bite partially dissolve on her tongue, breathing in deeply through her nose so the aromas of the surroundings could heighten the experience. When the flavors had begun to fade, she finally chewed and swallowed.
Eric stared at her the whole time. He kept his lips shut tight, but she noted how his pupils dilated.
“Rejuvenation is vital in maintaining optimal performance,” she said. “If Brendan believes you need assistance with this, I am happy to cooperate in a variety of ways.”
A muscle began to flex along his cheek beneath his bear. Was that the right word? It didn’t feel quite so.
Regardless, she wanted to run her fingers along his jaw, to feel its strength. Instead, she ate more of her excellent brunch.
This male was strong—a naturally occurring specimen, generated completely at random who held excellent attributes. Fascinating.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How exactly do you know Brendan?”
“We are recent acquaintances. One of my colleagues trained with his bondmate.”
“Bondmate?”
“Yes.” She knew there was a word for it in this region, but couldn’t remember it. “Brendan has recently developed a physical and emotional relationship with her.”
“That’s funny. He never mentioned anyone to me.”
Brendan had informed them all that Eric was part of a group that enforced law. It was absurd to her that this fell outside of the military. Why have multiple groups within a society who had overlapping skills when one unit could be trained to fulfill both functions?
Earth could greatly increase the efficiency of their operations if they had access to the genetic engineering techniques of the Sadirians. They could tailor each individual to the task they would be assigned. Although, for a natural specimen, Eric seemed very well suited for the cultural function he had selected. He reminded her of many of the soldiers she served with aboard the Arbiter.
She was fairly certain she had raised Eric’s suspicions. Her assignment was to bring him to the Arbiter so that he could join Earth’s newly formed Department of Homeworld Security—or receive a mindwipe if he refused. Brendan most likely wanted Eric in good condition when he arrived. His cooperation would assist with that.
While she parsed through the scenarios going through her mind, she lifted one of the wavy sticks of…fabric? Eric had eaten a bite of his, so she assumed it was edible.
; The smell rising from it sent another thrill through her body. It was even better than the eggs and toast. She took a small bite, the texture requiring her to chew the substance more than the others.
The explosion of flavors shook her. She let out a groan, then shoved more of it into her mouth, chewing rapidly.
“What is this?” She covered her mouth to keep any of its contents from falling out while she spoke around the incredible food substance.
“Bacon.”
“Bacon.” She practically purred the word, holding another strip between both hands and snapping it into two pieces.
Her meal was nearly finished, and Eric’s suspicions were fully engaged. Daylight would keep her from leaving the planet until nightfall—unless she wanted to break protocol and risk being seen by Earthlings should her ship’s cloak fail. Which she didn’t.
Originally, she had planned to simply approach Eric, lure him to a secluded spot, and secure him for transport to her ship. She’d imagined it would involve striking him in the head with just enough force to render him unconscious, then carrying him back to her ship.
Now… Now, she had other ideas. She had seen the way General Serath—Adam—and his Earth wife, Evelyn, displayed their bond through touch.
Wife. That was the word she had been looking for when speaking of Brendan’s new lifemate.
Sorca had been curious, observing both couples share their affection through light touches and kisses when they thought no one was watching. She had rarely seen them not touching, in fact.
She hadn’t seen the appeal. But this was just the food that Earthlings ate, and the stimulus was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Outside of combat, anyway.
She had hours to explore more of the environment before she’d be able to fly the skimmer back to the Arbiter. She now intended to make good use of them. The opportunity to explore the customs and delights of a planet with preservation status was unlikely to ever come to her again. All that remained was for her to determine how to gain Eric’s cooperation.
Chapter Three
Watching Sorca eat was much better than having his own brunch. Eric had never seen someone enjoy their food on such a primal level. The way she was looking at him made him wonder if she was thinking of having him for dessert.
Brendan had strange friends.
Eric still wasn’t sure about the point of this whole exercise, though. Was it a blind date? Some sort of weird roleplaying scenario? Both? And where was this woman from that she’d never encountered bacon? There was no way she could have faked that reaction to it.
He’d asked about some of Brendan’s pastimes while trying to forge a bond that would keep Brendan working on the project. They’d talked about cosplaying and… Harping? No, larping. Live action role-play.
If that’s what this was, Sorca seemed to be going all-out in her role.
Whatever Brendan hoped would come of this, Eric had one objective—get Brendan back to work on the project. Eric could tolerate the weirdness of the whole situation. And honestly, spending time with Sorca wasn’t that bad. Definitely strange, but not unpleasant.
Without looking at her plate, she picked up a piece of egg white, dripping with yolk, and slid it into her mouth. She sucked her finger clean, holding him with that sultry smile for a few moments as she chewed.
“We should copulate.” She didn’t bother to lower her voice. In fact, she made the proclamation louder than her earlier words had been.
He felt the gazes of several people nearby snap to their table and heard a few gasps. Sorca turned her head in the direction of one of the more scandalized sounds. She leaned toward an older woman sitting at the table next to them.
“You have a strong opinion on the matter,” Sorca said. “What is the protocol when you wish to establish a physical relationship with someone?”
Glaring at Sorca, the woman said, “I have no comment.”
Her word choice struck Eric as odd—but then, what about today wasn’t? She cast a quick glance at him from the corner of her eye. It was probably just the weirdness of the situation, but something about the woman was setting off warning bells in his head. Before he could examine it further, Sorca drew his attention again.
“Eric Peterson.” She pushed back from the table, then stood and held out her hand to him. “Come with me.”
Letting her down easy wasn’t going to be an option. At least if he followed her out, he could avoid making a scene in the diner. He threw a few bills on the table and stood, but didn’t take her hand. She didn’t seem bothered by that at all. Or by the few cheers or clapping that broke out around them.
He was about to tell the cheering squad to calm down when Sorca lifted her arms in the air and yelled, “Victory!”
He was supposed to keep Brendan safe and focused on his work. After this, Eric might kill Brendan himself.
Eric followed Sorca out of the diner, trying to get his thoughts in order. She walked right into the street, stopping with her hands on her hips and feet spread in a strong stance. A fighter’s stance, that seemed again to be second nature.
“Sorca…” His voice trailed off as he realized a truck was bearing down on her. She was standing in the middle of the street. “Sorca!”
He sprinted for her just as she noticed the vehicle. She turned toward him and leapt from the street, hitting him in the ribs and knocking the wind from him. He swore he was off his feet for several seconds as she carried him back toward the building, fast.
The next thing he knew, the brick wall of the restaurant was abrading his skin through his thin shirt—and Sorca was pressed against his chest, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. She was muscular, but tiny. He hadn’t realized how short she was until they stood side-by-side. Well, face-to-chest.
He was panting from the adrenaline, a dull ache in his ribs where she’d impacted. She merely looked up at him and smiled.
“That’s an interesting transport,” she said. “Its mass and velocity make it dangerous. You must not risk yourself for me. You aren’t replaceable.”
“And you are?”
She laughed, as if the brush with the truck had been nothing. “You would be surprised.”
What did it take to rattle her? When the people in the diner were judging her, when the waitress tried to intimidate her, even the cheerleaders for her victory shout, she didn’t seem to care at all. Eric couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live like that.
“It’ll catch up with you eventually,” he said.
“What will?”
“Living like you’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Perhaps. But what a race it will be to the end.” She laughed, bringing her free hand to his face to run a finger along his jaw. “Now, come with me. I have things to discuss with you that are not for others’ ears.”
What the hell? It was all part of the game, and he really did feel that he needed to find out what was going on. At least she’d stopped talking about “copulating”. Not that the idea was off-putting per se…
“Fine,” he said. “Take me to Brendan.”
She stepped up on her toes, sniffing Eric’s chest as she did. Her nose grazed his collarbone, setting off a chain reaction of goosebumps. Her arm was still wrapped around his waist, her body pressed against his.
She let out another of those self-satisfied purrs, but this time it was all about him. The attention was unsettling in the best and worst ways at once.
She might not be talking about copulating anymore, but he was pretty sure she was still thinking about it. Unfortunately, so was he.
“Eventually,” she said. “I wish to experience more of the pleasures your homew— Your home has to offer.”
For the first time, she’d stumbled over something, actually stopped herself instead of acting on whatever whim seemed to catch her fancy. She glanced around, as if checking to make sure no one had overheard her.
“Home-” something. What had she been about to say?
She stepped away from him, bu
t grasped his wrist and pulled him after her. “There is a park nearby. It will give us privacy for our conversation and…rejuvenation.”
“Rejuvenation?”
Her gaze slowly passed down his body before returning to his eyes. “Arenar is important to maintain peak efficiency.”
He let her pull him away from the wall. “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?”
“Your feeling is inaccurate. I promise you pleasure. There will be no regrets.”
He let out a laugh as he fell in step beside her. He couldn’t help himself.
“Are you always this confident?” he said.
“It is well earned.”
After they had walked for several minutes, she turned from the sidewalk onto a walking path that led into a forest. A wave of misgiving passed through him. No one was nearby, and the trail probably wasn’t heavily used this time of day. It would be a great place for an ambush.
When he hesitated, she said, “You have nothing to fear from me. I am sworn to protect you.”
That was a change from what he was used to. He was always the one cast in the role of protector.
He snorted, remembering that it was all part of the game. He started walking again, certain Brendan was somewhere in the woods, waiting for them to arrive. Eric just hoped there were no costumes involved. That would be awkward.
“Sworn to Brendan?” Eric asked.
She laughed. “Of course not. Sworn to my commanding officer, General Serath.”
“When did Brendan get the promotion?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was making a joke. I assume Brendan will be playing the role of General Serath?”
“Playing the role?” Her eyebrows hitched up her forehead and her mouth dropped open. She started to laugh. And kept going, until she’d doubled over.
“Brendan could never pass for…” She struggled to catch her breath. “I mean…”
Tied up in Customs (The Department of Homeworld Security Book 4) Page 2
