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Chapter 8

Lucie reluctantly led him into the open kitchen section of the little house. It was not much more than a food-grade printer and a recycle maw, with a few cups and plates for dividing larger meals. An elevated, narrow table was placed so that anyone sitting on the tall chairs behind it to eat could look up at the star field visible beyond the edge of the roof.

"I'll buy," Santiago said, moving toward the printer.

"No, I can afford?—"

"You shouldn't have to," Santiago said flatly. "You were doing your job. What do you want to eat?"

Lucie frowned. "I…"

"Something with carbohydrates and a bit of sugar, to help with the shock."

"I feel fine," Lucie insisted.

"Your eyes have a glassy look," Santiago told her. He worked the printer controls swiftly, as if he was very familiar with them, although this model of food printer wasn't common across the city. It was too old.

Swiftly, the meal was printed and he placed two plates upon the table and waved Lucie toward it.

She settled on her customary chair, which was the closest one to the wall. When Santiago sat on the chair next to her, she immediately realized her mistake. He was so large that she felt hemmed in.

But to change seats now would require explaining herself, which she had no intention of doing. Instead, she picked up the knife and fork that came with the meal and took a mouthful of the odd-looking dish.

Flavors exploded in her mouth, and she stopped chewing, tasting them all. There was a dough base of some kind. A pancake, perhaps, but in small bites. Sweet, tart fruit, sugar, some sort of syrup that she had never tasted before. A smooth, creamy texture that was warm and almost bland, but delicious, all the same, mixed with the medley of fruit. Nuts and seeds to give crunch to every mouthful.

Santiago had been watching her, clearly waiting for her reaction. "You like it?" He turned to his own meal, which was a simple poached egg on toast.

Lucie tried to speak, then nodded and chewed swiftly, so she could speak. She swallowed. "It's wonderful! What is it?"

"It's called an Emperor's Mess," Santiago said. "I have no idea where it came from. B—" He stopped short, as though a power switch had been shut off, and stared down at his egg.

Blake told him about the dish. Lucie's heart stammered as she looked away from him, to give him a private moment. She stared up at the stars, at her plate, at the worn tiles between the house and the gate. Anywhere but at him.

With a convulsive jerk, she pulled the clip holding her hair up on the top of her head and scrubbed at her scalp, letting the length of it swing around the sides of her face, hiding it.

Then she concentrated on eating her Emperor's Mess. It really was rather good.

Santiago ate his egg and toast in five enormous mouthfuls, and pushed the plate away. He stood and took the plate to the recycle maw and tossed it in and brushed off his hands. "I should go." He moved around the table, standing on the very edge of the step down to the tiles, just in front of her. But he wasn't looking at her.

"When are you flying out, next?" Lucie asked politely. "Today?"

"Tomorrow. A five-stop circuit."

She had saved up for three years to take the tour that he got to do every week. "I envy you," she said, without thinking.

"Don't," he told her. "You wouldn't like it in my shoes." His tone was bleak.

"You get to see space every single day. All the worlds, all the people, all the…everything."

Santiago gave a small sound that might have been a microscopic laugh. A chuff of air. He stared at her, as if she had said the most astonishing thing.

You really are new, aren't you? She could almost hear him thinking it. She had shown once again how gauche she was.

Lucie looked down at her plate, her cheeks burning.

"Don't," Santiago said again. He reached over the narrow table and lifted her chin, making her look at him. His eyes held none of the remoteness of a few seconds ago. "Don't you know how refreshing it is, to watch you be so delighted about everything?"

Lucie swallowed. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his eyes. Her heart was thundering.

He's forgotten I look like Blake. The realization jolted her, mind and body. Santiago wasn't seeing Blake right now. He was seeing her, Lucie. She watched his gaze move over her face.

Then it dropped to her mouth.

Lucie's breath halted. It felt as though her pulse stopped with it.

She was a new Varkan, yes, but she knew all about sex. The nursery had given her advanced sexual training. They gave all new Varkans extensive sexual education and training because every single Varkan was driven to experience this most mysterious and profound human act for themselves. For some Varkans, sex had been the primary reason they had fought to earn enough to buy their first body.

Lucie had been just as eager to try sex for herself, but it had been as disappointing as the nursery had warned her it might be. "There are so many factors that effect how you experience sex," one weary Varkan instructor had explained with a drawling voice. "Particularly for women, there are seventeen extra factors that have little impact upon the male psyche. Ambience, menstrual cycle, and familiarity and ease with the partner are the biggest three. If you turn to page two hundred and eleven, we will study all of them…"

Lucie had found many willing partners in her ten years since graduating from the nursery, but none of them had imparted the wondrous experience that human literature throughout history had implied was possible.

That knowledge flashed through her mind as Santiago stared at her mouth. She knew he wanted to kiss her. Her entire body recognized his intent. Every nerve and tendon she possessed seemed to tighten and throb at the possibility.

She wanted him to kiss her, too!

The knowledge was like a silvered blade, cutting through all other thoughts.

Lucie had never felt such a powerful desire before. She could think of nothing but the need to lean forward and encourage him to drop his head the few centimeters between them and take the kiss he wanted.

She would make it worth his while. She knew how to ensure he would like kissing her!

Santiago straightened, throwing his shoulders back, as if he had snapped to alert. His gaze tore away from her. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "You're still white from the shock." His tone was judicious. "You say you feel fine, but your judgement is compromised, and your energy will be down until you give yourself a chance to recover." He pointed to the bed.

Lucie drew in a breath that scalded, all the way down. Then another, cooler lungful of air.

Disappointment circled through her. She was trembling. Aftermath? Or more of this physical reaction that he kept assuring her was normal?

"I'll sleep," she said, her tone wooden.

"Good. Have a nice nap." He stepped onto the tiles, strode over to the gate and pulled it open, then was gone, while Lucie was still trying to sort out her reactions and thoughts.

He left because you're not Blake. The thought was vicious and increased her trembling.

Lucie recycled the last of her meal, moved over to the bedroom, and laid upon the bed. The trembling became shivering, so she kicked off her shoes and pulled the cover over her.

A man, a human, like Santiago, couldn't possibly be interested in a new Varkan like her. It was ridiculous to even consider the idea. Especially when she was wearing a replica of Blake's body.

The moment that had just happened…she had to forget about it. Pretend it hadn't happened because it never should have happened in the first place.

Thank the stars he had not actually kissed her!

But…what would a kiss from Elijah Santiago feel like?

Elijah strode home at a pace that was close to running. People jumped out of his way with startled glances and apologized unnecessarily as he cut through the building traffic. The day's commerce was well underway.

What on Glave's grave were you thinking? The thought pinged and bounced around his mind, scattering any chance to think normally. She was in shock. Vulnerable. Just because she looks like Blake?—

But she didn't look like Blake! Not anymore. When had that changed? It had been well over a week since she had stepped off his ship, and every time he had looked at her, the agony had made his heart squeeze and his breath stop.

But he had been looking at her every morning he was in the city, watching her pour coffee and deal with customers, her hair up in that ridiculous top knot that left tendrils loose about her face, which had the effect of softening everything about her. The high cheekbones and pointed chin became mere highlights among lovely, smooth feminine features. Sometimes she laughed softly…not the belly laugh that Blake had used. And often, she blushed. It was endearing, that blush. She would bring the pad up to her face, as if she would hide behind it if it was just a little larger.

She wore skirts and dresses, never pants. She favored soft, pastel colors and lace edges.

She was right-handed, and Blake had been left-handed.

Lucie. Even her name was a good fit.

Elijah came to a halt in the middle of the Messe, just before it turned into the main plaza, puzzling over what had just revealed itself to him.

He had been watching her enough to get to know her. If Lucie and Blake were to stand side by side, he would have no trouble telling them apart, even if they wore identical clothing. They were utterly unique, both of them.

When a man ran into him from behind, then breathlessly apologized with fear in his eyes when he realized who he had rammed, Elijah got himself moving once more. This time, using slower steps.

It didn't matter. None of it mattered. He would be morally wrong to attempt to pursue anything with the girl. She was barely out of the nursery, for stars' sake. Then, before he knew he was going to do it, he said in a conversational voice, "Barney, directional sound only. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Captain." Barney's voice had the wavering quality that told Elijah that he was projecting his voice so that no one around Elijah could hear anything but the tiny sound a breeze might make.

"How long has Lucie Jelen been a Varkan?" Elijah asked.

Barney's hesitation was long enough that Elijah recognized the dilemma he'd put the city mind into.

"It's public information," Elijah added. "I could dig it up myself, but you can do it faster. If you don't want to give me the information, that's fine. I'll get Allison to do it."

"Lucie graduated from the Darwin Third Echelon Creche nine years, eleven months and two days ago, sir."

"Thank you. That is all."

"Yes, sir." Barney's voice contained a note that Elijah though might be surprise. What about their exchange was surprising?

So, Lucie wasn't a complete tyro. Nearly ten years of experience had rubbed off the awkward corners all new Varkan had. But in many ways she was na?ve. Was that because of the nursery? A third echelon creche…that said she had paid her own way, with no sponsors to ensure she got the best rehabilitation and training. No one had offered her their DNA, and she hadn't been able to afford tailored gene expression, either.

Clearly, she had found a way to earn her living, after that, but not enough to tour with any luxury. An extended stay here had forced her to find a job to cover her expenses. And he was the reason she had been compelled to stay here. If he hadn't reacted to her the way he had in the docking bay, she would have boarded his ship the next Thursday and been long gone.

That would have been the better alternative, Elijah decided. Then he reconsidered. The reminder of Blake didn't send searing bolts of pain through him, anymore. He should be grateful for that.

He could even speak about her. He had nearly spoken her name to Lucie, before he managed to shut himself down. Blake was part of a dangerous period in his life that was long over. He was a respectable captain of an interstellar ship now, the owner of a fleet of them, and richer than he'd ever imagined was possible.

So why did his day stretch ahead of him, banal and empty?

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