Chapter 23
ZALIS
Zalis did not spend the entire day in Medical. When Gemma finally slept, he debriefed with the Warlord and the engineers. The series of bomb explosions that shook the ground and partially collapsed the tunnel had been a leak in a gas line. The pipes had corroded and a spark caused an explosion.
Once she was released, they returned to their cabin. It was advised that Gemma remain on board for observation rather than return to Val Mori.
“You couldn’t get me back there for a million bucks,” she said.
“I will be away until my task is complete.”
“I know, but I didn’t really see much of you down there either. I’ll catch up on my shows. Don’t worry about me.”
“You enjoyed working in the kitchen,” he said.
“I did. I don’t think I want to do it every day, all day. I’ll figure it out.”
He had prepared their cabin before her release.
The cooling unit was stocked with fresh food, particularly the fruit she enjoyed.
Other necessary supplies had been procured.
He cycled the cleaning bots to scrub away any trace of dust and stale air.
Personal items left on Val Mori had been returned and unpacked.
He wanted the cabin to be welcoming and comfortable.
“Home sweet home,” Gemma said and immediately went to the small box of confections waiting on the small table by the sofa. With a sigh, she settled onto the cushions and sniffed the box. “Chocolate. Is this your handiwork?”
“I wanted to see you smile.”
“It’s working.” She opened the box, her fingers twitching over the confections before selecting a dark square. After a bite, she grinned, chocolate at the corner of her lips. “Want a piece?”
“Yes, I desire a taste.”
She held up the box. Zalis ignored it, taking his share of chocolate directly from her lips.
“Delicious,” he said. “There is another surprise for you.”
“Oh, you’re spoiling me.”
“I had little to do with this one.” Zalis fetched a small, flat box from the bedroom. “Your possessions from Earth have arrived.”
Gemma opened the box and gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. Tears were in her eyes. “The notebook.”
“You are weeping.” He was confused. He expected joy, not tears.
“These are happy tears,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “This was my dad’s. When he got sick, he wrote down all his recipes.”
She flipped through the notebook. It was bound on one side with a coil of wire, which could not be secure. Each page was thick with writing, sometimes in different hands. He spied blotches of long-spilled liquid. She touched each page with reverence.
“I thought I lost this. We’ll need to get a duplicate made for Emry and as a backup. I also need to thank Clarissa and thank you.” She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek.
“Again, this was not my doing, but I do not mind reaping the benefits.”
Still holding the notebook, she asked, “So what now? When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“We should make the most of tonight.” Gemma glanced at the view screen on the wall. “Is it night? Computer, what time is it? I’m all turned around.”
The computer displayed ship time, Sangrin time, and Val Mori time.
“That doesn’t help me,” she said.
“I have thirteen hours before I am expected to return to duty.”
“Thirteen hours is plenty of time. Any suggestions?” She leaned back, resting her arms on the back of the sofa.
“There is one activity—”
She crooked a finger, beckoning him to her. He sat next to her, the cushion dipping with his weight.
“For my people, it is tradition to have a tea ceremony to mark the beginning of our mating. I would like to conduct the ceremony with you,” he said.
The lascivious grin vanished. “Okay, tell me more. Is it like a big ceremony? Do we have to throw a party?”
“It is a private moment between the two of us. We share a cup of tea. It is a special blend.”
“Special how? Like trippy or expensive?”
“It is a blend reserved for the mating ceremony. We will only taste it once.”
“We drink tea? That’s it?”
“We sit in contemplative silence,” he answered. Then confessed, “I brewed the tea the night you arrived but decided against it.”
She nodded her head. “Those tea cups on the table the night you ditched me.”
“Confronting you with the ceremony seemed… hasty.”
“I appreciate you waiting.” She reached for his hand. “Let’s do it.”
“Yes?”
“I have to tell you, a tea ceremony sounds a lot better than what we do on Earth. We do a wedding ceremony to exchange vows in front of everyone, literally everyone we’ve ever met in our life, and then we have to feed them chicken parm and cake.”
“That seems excessive.”
“Completely. I haven’t told you about the dress I’d be expected to wear.” She rolled her eyes and frowned, as if in dismay.
Zalis knew better. Weddings had featured in several of the films they watched. He suspected it was too integral in her culture to be so easily dismissed. “Would you like a traditional Earth mating ceremony?”
“Nah.”
“Gemma—”
“Maybe, but it’d have to be small. You and me, Emry and Ren, and your parents. Small.”
“Tell me the vows.”
“Well, we promise to love each other; honor and respect each other.” She laced their fingers together, his lilac and hers a pale beige. “Then we give each other a ring and kiss to seal the deal.”
He placed a hand behind her head, mindful of the surgical patch, and drew her to him. His lips claimed hers. This. He would never tire of the way she sighed, her breath mingling with his, and the way her entire body melted into his.
“Do you desire an Earth ceremony?” he asked again.
“Maybe. A little,” she confessed. “I’m not a fussy person and the idea of a large party is making me anxious, but a dream wedding with a big cake and an even bigger dress is something that’s in all our stories.”
“Then we will have a ceremony to your preferences.”
Her smile returned. “Okay, but I want to meet your mother first.”
“She is anxious to meet you,” he said. “Would you like to bathe?”
“Yes. I smell, don’t I? No, don’t tell me. I haven’t showered since before the surgery.” Gemma rose to her feet. “I don’t care what the medics claim, that disinfectant gel is not the same as a shower.”
“I will assist you.”
He followed her into the cleansing room and helped her undress. She was perfectly capable; he simply enjoyed it.
As each article of clothing was removed, he lavished her skin with kisses, mapping her.
A mole on her upper shoulder. The small surgical incision on her abdomen from a removed vestigial organ.
A scar above her right knee acquired while riding a bicycle.
Her body told a story of resilience, and he was determined to memorize every word.
The shower was large enough to accommodate them both comfortably. With the soap, Zalis scrubbed and washed her with the same attention to detail. He worked the shampoo into a thick lather, careful to avoid the bandage covering the incision on her scalp.
“Tell me again,” he said.
“Tell you that I love what you’re doing with your fingers?” Gemma tilted her head back, resting it against his chest. She smiled up at him, soft and dreamy. “I love what you’re doing right now.”
“I intend to do more.”
“Show me.”
His hand dipped down to the apex of her thighs. Wet and ready, it did not take much for him to bring her to the point of trembling desperation. Her back to his front, she reached up to grab him. She came on his hand, gasping and crying his name, as it should be. As it would be several more times.
After, he dried her with a towel and helped her into a Sangrin robe before dressing in a matching robe. The old-fashioned style had excessively long sleeves designed to fold over the hands.
Gemma wiggled her hands, making the long sleeves flap.
“That is disrespectful for my culture,” he said.
“Is it? Sorry.”
He grinned and flapped his own sleeves. “Every child does it.”
“Are you teasing me, Zalis Layneno?” She sounded shocked, then winked.
He had mentally rehearsed the steps for the tea ceremony: arranging cushions side by side on the floor by the low table, covering the table with the cloth, rinsing the pot with hot water, dumping the rinse water, steeping the tea leaves, and how to pour without spilling.
None of that prepared him for being in the moment, sitting by his mate’s side, or how his hands shook.
“The tea is a special blend meant to aid in relaxation,” he said, pouring the tea.
Droplets splattered on the front of his robe.
Mortification came over him. He would only experience this moment once with Gemma and now all he would remember was a ruined robe.
“That is an ill omen,” he said, quoting what he would have considered superstitious nonsense not long ago. Now that it was about him and his mate, it did not seem like nonsense.
“No,” Gemma said.
“Do not feel the need to elaborate.”
She grinned over the rim of her cup, clearly amused. “Omens are make-believe. This is real. We’re real.”
“This is real,” he agreed. “A love match has been all I ever wanted, yet this is better.”
She was radiant, pink rising in a flush on her cheeks at his words. Still holding her cup, she asked, “What do we do now?”
“We drink.” Zalis raised his cup in her direction and drank. The hot liquid scalded his tongue, partially immunizing him against the bitter taste.
Gemma drank and visibly flinched. “That’s… interesting, but not relaxing.”
He took another sip to verify. “It is vile.”
“It’s just bitter. Sugar will help, or is adding sugar to the ceremony tea forbidden?”
There was a high probability that adding sweetener to the tea blend was another ill omen, but it was nearly unpalatable.
He did not understand. The numerous guides he read on conducting the ceremony had not mentioned the bitter nature of the tea or offered suggestions to mitigate the taste.
A warning would have been appreciated.
He brewed it incorrectly. That had to be the fault.
Or he had misunderstood entirely. The importance of the ceremony was not the tea or the excessively sleeved robes, but sharing a moment together. This moment.