Page 25 of Shadow Mark

“I’ve already had my one and a half drinks. Anything more, and I’ll feel miserable in the morning,” she said, declining. “I should try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.” She paused, unsure how to proceed. She had so many questions and an increasingly small window to get answers.

Fuck it. Take a risk.

“Will you walk me back to my room?” she asked.

He seemed surprised but tipped his head. “Certainly.”

As they left the observation deck, the quiet of the station returned. They came to a juncture. Baris headed toward the dock, but Lenore pointed in the other direction.

“I’m in a station suite,” she explained, assuming that he expected her to be bunking on the prince’s ship. Which made sense. It had been her home since being rescued, but the station offered more room and her own bathroom. No more sharing with everyone on the ship. “No timer on the showers here.”

Before long, they were outside her room.

She took a deep breath because the next bit was tricky. She said, “Thanks. Now get inside and take off your shirt.”

BARIS

Lenore’s request took him by surprise.

“I’m flattered, but tell me, are all humans so upfront with what they desire?” he asked. When he accompanied her back to her room it was because he enjoyed the conversation, not because he was looking for companionship. Although he had no issue with taking her as a companion for the night, he usually sought partners carefully, valuing discretion to minimize any complications. With his position, he always had to consider the complications.

A greedy voice reminded him that she would be leaving the next day. No complications necessary.

Tempting, but Baris did not know if he could trust the female. A moment of pleasure could end with a slit throat.

Before he could decline, Lenore grabbed his wrist and pulled him into her room.

The room was standard issue with the bare minimums: a bed, a console for storage, a table and two chairs, and a small station to prepare modest meals and drinks. The space lacked any personal touches, but he did not expect any for a temporary abode.

“Honestly,” she grumbled. “You’re sweaty and your eyes are glossy. You look like you’re running a fever.” She stretched up on her toes and pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re mollusky.”

He had no idea what that meant. The translator chip struggled with words that had dual meanings. “Is that good?”

“Clammy. Damp, from a fever. Now sit and take off the shirt. Gloves too. Everything you say will be confidential. I don’t go gossiping about patients.”

“I am not your patient,” he replied.

She gave him a stern look. For being nearly a head shorter than him, she had a large presence.

“Very well, but I will not sit.” Reluctantly, he removed the gloves. His amputated thumb was no secret, and she had seen it before. Still, he wore the gloves in public not to hide the injury or because he was ashamed. He was simply tired of the stares. He peeled off the leather, slapping them down on the table and splaying his hand wide. “Satisfied?”

She picked up his right hand, turning it over as she inspected it. “I worried that the amputation might have been infected, but it healed nicely.

“It has been two years, and I do have my own medic to monitor these things.”

Her brows went up, expressing so much with only two. Odd.

“And pain?” She rubbed a thumb over the scar and pressed. When he did not howl in pain or wince, she seemed satisfied.

She retrieved a pack from the bed and set it on the table. One by one, she removed items from the pack. “We don’t know where the portal will land us, so everyone gets an emergency kit. Water, food, flares, all that. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for souvenirs. Ah, here we go.”

She removed a forked metal prong attached to a rubber tube with a metal disc at the end and slipped it around her neck. She gave him an expectant look. “I wasn’t joking about the shirt. Off.”

“What is that?”

“My stethoscope.” She held the metal disc up, like that explained the function. “It allows me to listen to your heart and lungs.”

“It looks primitive.”

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