Heat crept up her cheeks, and the roots of her hair tingled. “I’m not… I wasn’t?—”
“Following me? You were, and I’m flattered, but I would be happier if you would share a meal with me. My treat. We can talk about the orphanage and the plans you have for the Engineering Academy graduates.”
“Director Glinchart told you about my sponsorship?”
“No, she told me she had a sponsor. And since you spent so much time in her office earlier, I put it together. By the way, you’re terrible at shadowing. If you want to improve, I can give you some tips.”
“I wasn’t… Fine, I was. But I’m not that bad.”
“Good thing you know how to make engines sing.” He looped her arm through his. “Let me feed you.”
Blaize paused, checking the time. There was no way she could join the captain, so she allowed herself to be pulled along by the male who made her skin tingle and fought her desire to press her body closer to his. The muscles of his arm were like power cables—firm, flexible, and capable. Blaize’s fingers tingled with the temptation to trace the lines up his arms and stroke his chest.
Cifer paused in front of a small storefront framed in light-blue metal siding. “This place is great. I make sure to eat here whenever I can.”
“The Blue Skewer?” She’d never heard of the sketchy-looking dive.
“Yeah. Meats from all over the galaxy. Nothing fabricated. The special changes, sometimes hourly, depending on what’s available, but it’s always delicious.” Cifer pulled her into the space.
There were mismatched round tables covered in images of planets from nearby solar systems. The seating was just as varied to support those with extra height, appendages, or unique shapes. Bodi would love the low-back chairs that wouldn’t interfere with her delicate wings.
Blaize let Cifer order the special and two house brews while she inspected the artwork that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. It was primitive. White line drawings that were almost graphical on the dark, rusty metal siding depicted animals of all sizes and humanoid figures with long pointy sticks. One image showed the people holding the beasts at the end of their spears over a pit.
“They’re ancient cave drawing reproductions from NOAH’s origin planet, Earth.” Cifer pulled her attention from the walls and back to the man who was as dangerous to her heart as the line people were to the drawn beasts.
“It’s surprising that something so simple as a line drawing can be so dramatic, and the story is told so clearly.”
“It’s the essence, without all the layers that obscure the truth.” Cifer was focused on the table and his voice was low.
“Exactly.” Blaize took a breath to continue to discuss the artwork but was interrupted by the food being delivered to their table.
Blaize brought the first bite to her mouth and froze under Cifer’s intense gaze.
“Eat. I want to see your first reaction.”
She put the morsel in her mouth and moaned. Flavors erupted on her tongue that she’d never tasted before, a perfect symphony of sweet and savory, spicy and tangy, with a hint of fire. She savored the bite and finally swallowed.
Cifer nodded. “I knew it. I knew you would appreciate this.”
“How did you find this place?”
Cifer was silent for a moment and took a bite of the unnamed dish himself. Blaize got the impression he was stalling. She couldn’t imagine why. Maybe he’d found the restaurant while doing something wrong.
“One of the kids at the orphanage. He used to eat out of their dumpster. Said it was the best place, but he had to be careful because the older ones would beat him if they found him nearby.”
Blaize dropped her fork, her appetite misplaced and her throat tight. “That’s horrible. I mean, I know they all have sad stories, but eating out of a dumpster and having to fight for those scraps? It’s disgusting what happens to the little ones when they have no one to care for them.”
“It’s not your fault.” Cifer stroked her shoulder.
“It feels wrong to eat inside at a table when the children are suffering.” She stared at her plate.
“What good does it do to make yourself suffer? It changes nothing. You have to take action, not restrict yourself.”
“Is that why you were meeting with the director?”
“You know, you really are terrible at hiding.” Cifer laughed once.
“I kept my distance. I stayed in the shadows. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
