Page 41 of Rebel Fates

19

AGREEMENTS

ZEEK

We finish our meal, exchanging a contented look after we notice color returning to Gemma’s face.

She was dead inside a frexing coffin just a while ago.

Shax. I thought I was going to die with her.

Thank the stars that the food and comfort we have offered seems to have worked wonders for her disposition.

Although, I sense her worry about what we’re keeping from her. She isn’t alone in her concern.

I sigh quietly, thinking how Gemma has had a rough time since she left Earth. She also suggested she had a rough lifebeforeshe left her home planet.

“We need you to stay safe. That means staying in your quarters,” Serrat says, his voice softer than he usually uses with her. I think he feels badly about the whole frexed up situation.

“So… am I a prisoner until you can get rid of me?” she asks.

The fight has gone out of her voice. It tears me up inside to hear her lose hope. I want her to know everything. I want to claim her. But I’m the bottom link on this alpha chain. I’m outranked and outnumbered on this issue.

Serrat doesn’t think she would want us to claim her.

And Rok is probably right that she might not survive it if we did.

However, my gut doesn’t believe that. I think she is meant for us. Leva thinks so too. I trust our ship knowing something we do not. Her instincts function on a whole other…dimension. Leva seems insistent about one thing—Gemma is ours.

“You aren’t a prisoner,” Serrat huffs. “You’re our responsibility. As unfortunate as that is, I don’t want you dead. But if you don’t follow my orders, you’ll end up that way. I’m asking for your compliance for your own safety.”

Gemma’s head drops. She picks at her fingers that are resting in her lap. My shirt on her lovely body makes me feel like she’s mine. All I want to do is scoop her up and reassure her everything’s going to be alright. But I can’t guarantee that future.

“How long do I have to stay in there?” she asks.

“A while. Several days,” Rok answers.

He seems to have softened quite a lot since her arrival—since their healing session. I wonder what was said when they were alone together.

“Oh.” Gemma wrings the hem of her shirt-dress. “Alone… the whole time?”

Serrat stands up abruptly. “Yes.”

“The room is small,” she says, “And the floor is too soft. It’s weird.”

It’s our modest nesting room for a female, but I don’t confess that. It has been on my mind since Serrat ordered her to stay in there. I find it only too appropriate for my notion of claiming her.

Serrat turns to me. “Set her up in my room. Make sure it’s clear of anything that might be a problem.” Without another word, he rushes out of the galley.

“Come on.” I tilt my head for her to follow, grabbing the crate of food that I have been sitting on.

Rok stops us with a question. “How is the food settling in your system?”

Gemma takes a moment to mentally check-in with each part of her body. It’s something that all Hathoran warriors do. I find it odd that a human civilian would do this too. Could she be more than she says? No. I’m sure humans, with their fragile constitutions, have to do this all the time. Or maybe this is unique to her and another sign that she is meant for us.

“I’m feeling much better. Thank you for the food… and for taking care of me. I… I never wanted to be a burden. I regret stumbling into the middle of whatever you have to deal with.”

“Your alternative was to be a slave. We don’t wish that for you,” Rok says.

---