11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Nikolai

I shift uncomfortably, worried Z’Ree will notice my stupid erection and rightfully freak out. “Are you hungry?” I ask, changing the subject while pointing to the food tray. “I see you haven’t touched the weird black sludge. Can’t say that I blame you. It looks like tar.”

Her shoulders twitch as she chuckles. “That’s ???,” she types. The word doesn’t translate, which must mean it doesn’t have an equivalent in Russian. No surprises there.

I study the symbols. “Pol-vo-ren?” I read the symbols aloud. “Did I get that right?” Her nod makes me feel like a highly accomplished linguist. “Well, it has a weird name. I asked the kitchen robot thing to give me the best and most popular dishes in the galaxy and I ended up with a bowl of tar. You have my apologies. I’ll throw it out.”

She grabs my wrist then, as if realizing what she’s just done, quickly draws her hand back before retreating further into the corner, trembling in what I suspect is fear. For a second, I’m completely disoriented because that low thrumming between us flared back to life when she touched me, silencing every thought except for one. The one that makes me desperately want to hold her.

Shaking off the feeling once again, I hesitate before saying, “Z’Ree?” I don’t know how to get through to her that she has nothing to fear anymore. She still doesn’t trust me and possibly never will. “You’re afraid because you touched me and you’re worried I’ll be angry with you because of it. Am I right?”

She nods and raises the datapad to type. Gently, I stop her. “If you’re about to apologize, please don’t. I’m not angry. I will never be angry with you for touching me. You can touch me all you want,” I add, my depraved mind already conjuring up the many ways she could touch me. Most of them involve my cock.

Z’Ree hesitates, mulling my words over. I imagine they directly contradict her understanding of the world, so it must be difficult to comprehend and accept what I’m saying. “I’m not allowed to touch anyone without permission,” she types eventually. “But… Please, do not throw out the polvoren. It’s a delicacy.”

It must take a lot of courage for her to make such a simple request. I’m proud of her. “I thought the machine glitched and gave me a bowl of engine sludge instead,” I joke, hoping to make her smile. “It doesn’t look like a delicacy.” I take the bowl, sniffing it carefully, scrunching my nose at the strange odor. “Nor does it smell like one.”

“It is,” Z’Ree insists. “I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat it.”

Of course she wasn’t. “Well, right now you’re not only allowed to eat it but I’m going to insist you at least taste it in front of me,” I say, keeping my voice light and gently teasing. “Because I’m beginning to think you’re trying to trick me into eating something disgusting.”

She stiffens for a second, then relaxes as she realizes I was only joking. She even narrows her eyes at me a little, as if annoyed at me for scaring her.

My responding grin is wide and cheeky. I hope she does get angry. Not necessarily at me, but angry in general. It would be a great learning opportunity for her to see that no one is going to punish her for having emotions. It might crack that toughened exterior she’s developed and prove to her she’s safe. Free to glare at the idiot Russian who’s making fun of her… Or smack him upside his head.

“It’s delicious,” she types, still giving me the tiniest impression of a scowl. “Your loss,” she adds.

My grin increases to the point where I feel like my face might crack, loving her newfound sass.

She snags the bowl and buries a spoon into the black gunk. The polvoren looks like a very thick, very black, gelatinous pudding. She puts a spoonful of it into her mouth before closing her eyes to savor the taste, an expression of pure bliss spreading across her face. I nearly come in my pants just from watching her. I think I just developed a new kink—watching Z’Ree eat.

Entranced, I watch her put a few more spoonfuls into her mouth. When she finally lifts her eyes from the bowl she realizes I’m staring at her, the spoon freezing halfway to the bowl.

Clearing my throat awkwardly, I force myself to look away. “Sorry. I, um…didn’t mean to stare.” Oh yes, I did. I absolutely did. “It’s good to see you eat.” Enrapturing. “I’ll leave you alone,” I lie. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave her alone.

Her head shake stops me from getting up. She licks the spoon, then puts it down and reaches for the tablet. I’m too busy trying to hide the pre-cum stain that I’m certain just formed on my pants from watching her lick the damned spoon to read what she’s typing.

Turning the screen around, Z’Ree shows me the screen and I nearly die as I read, “Do you want some?” It takes a full minute to register that she’s talking about the food. Oh my god, what is happening to me? “It really is delicious. You should try it.”

“Mmm,” is the only answer I manage to mumble out.

Z’Ree’s smile is nervous as she offers the bowl to me. Mechanically, I bring the spoon to my mouth, not really paying any attention to it. At least not until a burst of flavor explodes in my mouth.

“Oh, wow,” I groan, closing my eyes to savor the taste. It’s like the most sinful combination of dark chocolate and beef steak, all dipped in the best bourbon. It should be disgusting just by the description alone but it’s delicious. Even the consistency doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would, because it easily melts on my tongue.

With monumental self-restraint, I return the bowl to Z’Ree without finishing all of the polvoren. “You win,” I admit. “You’re right. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.” When she tries to push the bowl back in my direction, I shake my head in refusal. “I brought it for you.”

She pouts, then raises a finger, telling me to wait. After sorting through the collection of oddly shaped utensils I’d brought along with the food, she returns with a strange round spoon that has spikes on the edges. It looks more like a torture device than an eating utensil.

“What in the world is that?” I ask, eyeing the instrument warily.

Z’Ree’s brows shoot up as she smothers a giggle. Right, my question probably sounds stupid to her. Every alien toddler all over the galaxy must know how to use the spiked spoon and here I am, a grown man looking at it wide eyed.

“It’s a pronged spoon,” she types, showing it to me. “You don’t have those on your human planet? How do you scoop up your food?”

I snort. “We have spoons and we have forks. I think the Americans even invented something called a spork, that’s a hybrid between the two. But this thing looks deadly. How do you put it into your mouth?”

She chuckles again. I love that she’s laughing at me. The sound is music to my ears and I want to keep hearing it every day.

Instead of typing out the answer, she digs the utensil into the polvoren bowl, scoops some up, and holds it in front of my mouth. I hesitate. Not because she’s holding a sharp object to my face, but because I’m not sure I’ll survive her feeding me without spontaneously ejaculating.

Taking in her expectant smile, I open my mouth. I don’t care if she stabs the pronged spoon into my throat leaving me choking on my own blood. I’d die a happy man knowing that my death made her smile and brought life back into those beautiful eyes of hers.

Ok, now I’m just being ridiculous.

I needn’t have worried anyway. The spikes disappear the moment the spoon comes near my mouth and instead of blood, I’m left with the delicious taste of the polvoren. There’s a twinkle of mischief in Z’Ree’s eyes as she observes my reaction to the retracting spikes. She could have told me the spikes would disappear when near someone’s mouth but the little minx chose not to, preferring to feast on my anxiety.

I love it.

She places the spoon in my hand before grabbing the one she was using before. Holding the bowl up between us, she takes a spoonful, then gestures for me to do the same. Looks like we’re sharing.

“So, is this your favorite food?” I ask as we eat, trying not to stare at her but watching all the same. I feel like she’s doing the same, watching my mouth move and, did she just gulp when my tongue darted out to lick away the sticky residue from my lips? It was just a flash, probably nothing. I chalk it down to wishful thinking.

Z’Ree tips one shoulder up in a shrug, then types, “I like it, but I was rarely allowed to eat it. I don’t think I have a favorite food. There was one meal I remember eating back when I lived at home, but that’s not available anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I understand the hidden meaning behind her words. Not only does she not have a family or friends from before she was taken, but her home world is probably gone, too, either invaded by some group who won’t allow her to return, or destroyed.

“So, why does this thing have spikes?” I ask, waving the spoon. “What’s wrong with the normal, non-spiked version?”

“This one is used to eat living food,” she replies, chuckling at how pale I must look as the blood drains from my face. Did she really just say “living food”? Yuck. “Some races like their meals fresh,” Z’Ree continues. “Small animals, insects, maggots… The prongs spear the creatures, killing them, and then the spoon drops them right into their mouth.”

I can’t help cringing at her explanation. “Okay, that’s just disgusting.” I suddenly realize that she might actually enjoy eating food that way and I’ve probably just insulted her. “I mean…dammit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult anyone. This shouldn’t be such a huge cultural shock for me. Some people on Earth like to eat bugs and worms too. I apologize if I’ve offended you.”

“You didn’t. I like my food dead long before it’s on my plate, not dying as I chew on it. But you have a Krestilian in your crew. Do you not see him eat?”

“D’Aakh? I did, but I don’t remember seeing him eat live bugs or worms. He always eats ‘normal’ food like the rest of us. So, have you been watching the crew?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

Z’Ree avoids my look, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen. Her fingers hover above the keyboard for a long time before she types, “I have. Are you angry?”

Rolling my eyes I tease, “Do I look angry, Miss Pronged Spoon?”

Giggling, she shakes her head.

“Good, because I’m not angry. Looking angry when I’m not would be a major people deterrent in my position. I like to think I look approachable. Oh, and devilishly handsome, of course,” I quip, hoping to make her giggle again.

She’s biting on that lip again instead, typing something I can’t see. At that moment, the lights switch back to normal and I hear a loud clicking as the hatch door unlocks.

Z’Ree tenses up, her eyes darting between me and the hatch. I can see she’s about to run. Hopefully not because she’s afraid of me but because she needs to sort out her thoughts on her own.

“Go if you want to,” I tell her. She hesitates, her eyes apologetic. Pasting an encouraging smile on my face I add, “I understand why you need to go and I’m not angry with you for it. I’ll see you soon.” I don’t phrase it as a question because it’s not. We will both come back here, sooner rather than later.

She nods and mouths a silent thank you. After taking two steps toward the hatch, she returns for the bowl containing the last of the polvoren. “Oh, no!” I exclaim theatrically, laughing at the little thief as she scrambles to the hatch carrying the bowl. “Not my polvoren. I’ve been robbed! Some scoundrel’s taken my food and now I’m left here, all alone and starving. Whatever shall I do?”

Her laughter is the last thing I hear before she closes the hatch behind herself and disappears into the maintenance walkways.

A sigh escapes me. I hate seeing her go. The mysterious thrumming she awakened in me grows quieter and is replaced by sadness. A wave of longing washes over me now that she’s gone, making me want to go after her and never leave her sight. Since it’s not something I can do, I pick myself up off the floor, groaning as my back straightens. The pain in my elbow has returned with a vengeance, further convincing me that Z’Ree had somehow been keeping it at bay.

Now, if only my cock would go down, so I can go back to my room without sporting a tent inside my pants.

My eyes land on the discarded datapad. Picking it up, my jaw drops open as I stare at the last message Z’Ree wrote before she left. “I think you are devilishly handsome, too.”