“I have restricted your locator to the ship, for now,” Qaff said, not glancing at her.
Relief hit her, and she offered the man a grateful smile.She couldn’t say he was rude when he was far from it, but not looking at her was starting to worry her.
“Understand me?”Cylo hissed.
Gasping, she faced him, her mouth falling open.“Are we speaking Yithian?”To her ears, the sibilant sounds were too familiar.“Am I?”
He chuckled.“Yes.Come, I have a lump of gold you can have.”
She frowned, unable to register what he’d said.“Did you say gold?”
“I mined it on my last drone run.Perhaps the replicator can create the tools you need?”When he headed to the passage leading to the barracks, she followed.
“You want me to make a piece of jewelry?”she asked, double-stepping to keep up with him.
“I know nothing about such things.Choose a project that is time-consuming.”He entered his room and picked up a chunk of gold just lying there on his table.
“Do you know how much this is worth?”she stuttered when he caught her hand and placed the lump on her palm.
He shrugged.“If it will keep you busy.”
She clutched the gold to her chest.His generosity astounded her.Maybe she could make something for him?A thick bracelet?A necklace?Would he wear it?“Thank you, Cylo.I cannot say how much this means to me.”
“No gratitude is needed.”He met her gaze, conveying how this meant nothing to him: no regret, dismay, or obligation reached her.“Now, what else do you need to do this?”
“Tools,” she whispered, shock strangling her throat.
He nodded.“As expected.My knife-making has its own requirements.”
“Knife—” She bit her lip, once more tripping after him.Drone-mining and blade-smithing?What else did this man do in his spare time besides rescue kidnapped women?
He led her through the common to a door on the side.The empty bay had high ceilings, and black crates clung to the metallic walls as if magnetized.A shiver at the cooler temp didn’t distract her when he veered toward a workbench mounted at the rear of the bay.Beside it was a low counter with a replicator.
He activated it.“Order what you need.”
She blinked at the menu, unsure how to phrase the tools in Etterian terms.Would they know what nylon-tipped pliers were?He waited, patient, so she typed in what she was looking for, all while clutching the gold to her chest.A pile of tools formed, in better quality than the second-hand tools she’d managed to scrounge on Demeter.
“I…think that’s it,” she said.
“Good.”He touched the ridged corner of a metal panel.It slid open to reveal an empty cube-shaped closet.“Here is where you can store these.”He pointed at the bench.“That is where you can work.”He caught her free hand and urged her to stand in front of a flat circle on the grated floor.“Touch here…” He pressed a thumb-sized ridge on the bench’s bull-nosed edging.
A bar stool rose out of the floor.It stopped just short of reaching her butt.
“Release the button when it is at the correct height for you.”
With a trembling hand, she placed the lump on the rubberized workbench.She faced him, slipped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek to his chest.“Thank you.”
He crushed her to him without harming her.“It is honorable to make you happy.”
She shook her head.“You are the only one who thinks like that, Cylo.”She pulled back and turned away to hide her tears.
He grasped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.“I did not do this to upset you, ensa.”
He gazed into her eyes.Time slowed, and her breathing became labored.A slight smirk curled his lip moments before he caught hers in a sweet kiss.Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she melted against him, unable to resist the lure of his warm and solid chest.The strength of his arms he trapped her within only seemed to add to the sense of security engulfing her.
“I’m not sad,” she managed when he broke the kiss.“These are tears of joy.”She chuckled, flicking a swipe across her cheek.
He frowned and released her.“You speak truth?”
