Page 39 of Rebel Fates

18

GALLEY

GEMMA

Rok grunts, a non-verbal protest about Serrat’s orders to bring me to the ship’s galley. He crosses his massive, muscular arms and I try not to notice. Despite his gruff attitude, I find myself softening toward him after our chat. He didn’t recoil at the shadows he saw inside of me.

He has similar pains and perhaps empathizes with the dark parts of my soul. Just because he has a rough exterior doesn’t make him invincible to suffering. I have no idea who these guys are, what kind of life they’ve had, or what kind of horrors they’ve witnessed.

Breaking my psychological analysis of alien temperaments, Zeek turns to me and asks, “How are you feeling after your near death experience?”

“One star. I don’t recommend it.”

“Excuse me?” Zeek chuffs out a laugh. “What is that about a star?”

I shrug. “Earth humor.”

“I’m a fan of humor.” Zeek smiles. “Will you teach me Earth humor?”

Rok grumbles and pushes past us and out of sight.

Hisdanderis up again. I chuckle at the double meaning.

“Never mind him, he’s—in a mood.” Zeek waves him off.

“Is it apermanentmood?” I ask innocently.

Zeek stops me with an intense look. “It’s more than that. I believe everything will be alright, but you need to trust us. And stop hurting yourself.”

He reveals in his hands a shirt that fits one of their tall forms. Long enough to be a mini-dress on me. I pull it over my head, and the sleeves drape down several inches over my hands. The bottom hem of the shirt barely covers my ass. Somehow I feel naughtier than I did plain naked, which makes no sense.

I roll my sleeves to bring them up to my elbows.

“Do I get pants?” I ask, feeling strangely shy now.

He smirks at the hemline close to my bottom’s bottom. “I’ll look into it.”

I bethe’ll“look into it.”

We round the corner and into the galley. I hadn’t found this room in my previous explorations. There’s a food prep area and chairs.Threechairs. Apparently, visitors aren’t a thing around here.

Zeek happily pulls up a cargo box and sits down, offering me the third chair. He moves a plate of food in front of the setting. “I think this will agree with you. At least, it’s better for you than Leva’s food.”

I try to pull my shirt to cover my ass when I sit down, but it only makes it come up more in the front. All three males appear keenly interested in my attempt at modesty. My cheeks grow warm and pink.

Unexpectedly, it’s Rok that smirks and shakes his head. “What are you doing? We’ve already seeneverything.”

I fluster. Clothing has only made me more self-conscious. “Ugh. Habit, I guess.”

I give up the fight and sit in my chair, bare ass on the seat. It feels as though they eye me more than when I didn’t have clothing on.

My stomach rumbles with the thought of food. I realize again how hungry I am. Then, I glance down at my plate and don’t recognize anything as food. It’s a reconstituted paste. Hummus is the closest Earthly resemblance to it.

I glance at Serrat’s and Rok’s plates, and they have the same mash.

“What is it?”

“Protein, lipids, and carbohydrates,” Rok says.

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