Page 56 of Master
“It’s not that kind of defense, silly.” I giggled, nudging his arm with my elbow. Tarook’s bicep was so muscular it felt like stone. “Some plants give off chemical scents to deter predators… keeping bugs away, that sort of thing. Mei’s research bolsters a plant’s natural defenses to withstand larger, alien predators.”
Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen many alien bugs lurking about. That awful snake-rat thing was the only rodent I’d noticed, and it didn’t seem the least bit interested in plant life.
“Mei’s research determines whether a plant has an inducible or constitutive defense and if she could use artificial means to bolster the output.”
“You’re very smart.” Tarook’s chest pressed against my shoulder as he bent to peer more closely at the journal.
“Not me,” I laughed awkwardly. He was too close, but not close enough.
Ugh, I needed to get a grip.
“Mei’s the brilliant one. I’m pretty good at botany, but some of this stuff is over my head.”
“Definitely over my head,” Tarook chuckled, stepping away. My body at once mourned the loss of warmth. “I thinkI’ll rummage about in the storage closet and see if I can find something other than dried meat and crackers.
My gaze flickered to the bins of vegetables occupying the corner. Potatoes, corn, squash… all awaited whatever experiments Mei conducted. My uncertainty about whether Mei had already chemically treated the vegetables held me back from suggesting that we snack on them. Of course, if Tarook didn’t find more food, I might need to reconsider.
The storage room door groaned in the opening, and I tried to quell my guilt at pilfering her stores. As a foster child, no matter how long one lived with a family, there was always something off-limits. Something that kept the line between family and not family drawn, however miniscule. Curtis and I shared every part of our lives together, and yet when I cleared out his office in the days following the funeral, it felt like an encroachment.
Amid the scuffle and scrape of things moving about, curious sounds of “ooh,” “ahh,” and “hmm” had me pressing my lips together in amusement.
“Look at this!”
Tarook appeared from the bowels ofthe closet, carrying a large box that he brought to a nearby table, scooting a few beakers aside to make room.
“Wow,” I uttered, raising myself high enough to look down into the cardboard treasure trove.
Several cans of Chef Boy-ar-dee ravioli, SpaghettiOs, and assorted canned vegetables took up the bottom of the box. A jar of peanut butter and strawberry jam sat next to a sleeve of crackers. Several dog-eared Harlequin romances and a coupleof Stephen King novels rounded out the contents, along with a large box of a popular apocalyptic treat—Twinkies.
“What is this?” Tarook’s eyes widened at the box’s photo of the bullet-shaped yellow cake.
“Twinkies,” I chuckled, reaching for a much healthier entrée—SpaghettiOs. “They’re like cake… sweet.”
“I like sweets.” Tarook’s eyebrows waggled.
“I would never have known,” I feigned aghast. “You only ate half the berry cobbler Lula made the other night.”
Tarook reached into the box, pulling out a cellophane-wrapped bar of gold. He glanced at me sheepishly before ripping into the packaging and raising the Twinkie to his nose with reverence. He took a deep inhale. Personally, I didn’t want to think about what the Twinkie smelled like or how old it was. Tarook didn’t have my misgivings. A wash of pure bliss came over his face as he ate the small cake in one bite. A low moan of pleasure broke from deep within his chest. I’d heard that sound before… when we had sex on the Hartouk Lenaii. So, sex with me was at least as pleasurable to him as eating a Twinkie.
Ugh.
Thankfully, there was a small can opener in the box. Using a Bunsen burner and beaker, I fixed a lunch of SpaghettiOs and peanut butter crackers to accompany Tarook’s new Twinkie obsession.
We ate as we puttered. My attention turned to Mei’s notes on which was better to induce a plant’s chemical response… clipping or introducing inspects in a controlled environment. Tarook sat vigil by the window.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Tarook’s voice brought me out of my study. Only the soreness of my neck indicated how long I’d read. He was reading, too. Perched on a chair by the window, a dog-eared book lay open in his lap.
“Sure.”
“What’s kissing?”
My gaze dropped to the book he held, eyes involuntarily widening. Stephen King novelsItandThe Standwere in that box, and he’d grabbed a romance.
“Um.”
“There is so much of it in this book.” He frowned, the query obviously a serious one. “I wish to understand why the act turns sane characters into...”
