Chapter Twenty-Three
As soon as Grav and his human mate were out the door, Chloe got up from the sofa.
“What are you doing?” Rok asked. “You heard them—you’re supposed to rest!”
“I’ll rest right here.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight, rubbing her cheek against his bare shoulder.
He thought his heart would explode. His arms enfolded her, and he rested his cheek against her bandaged head. Blood, grass, and an essence wholly hers filled his senses, reminding him of how precious she was. “I could have lost you.”
“But you didn’t. I’m still here. We’re both still here.” She paused. “I’m sorry I spoiled your reunion.”
“No. None of this is your fault. Grav and I were able to talk a little, and there will be plenty of time to get to know him. Today is just the beginning.”
The sight of her still and bloodied was the absolute worst moment of his life. If she had been killed, part of him would have died. She had opened his eyes and his heart. Since meeting her, he’d come to experience human emotion.
To say Progg were unfeeling would be inaccurate. But the emotions his people felt—or acted on, anyway—were those of pride, patriotism, power, and determination. Grief, fear, mercy, and love were as alien as the people they annihilated.
But not to him.
“You mean a lot to me, Rok. I’m glad our paths crossed, and we’re together. I can’t promise a future, but I’d like to take the next step of this journey with you. See where it leads us.”
Journey? “We’re not staying in Springfield?” He’d go anywhere she went, but he’d just found his brother!
She lifted her head. “We are—I assumed we would. Your brother is here, and I will be among my people. I think Laurel and I will be good friends. I was referring to—our future—yours and mine together. We teamed up to get to Springfield, and I’d like to continue being partners and allow nature and our feelings take their course. ”
His heart swelled with the promise implied in her words. He would wait for her. He’d wait forever. “I would like that very much.”
She rose on tiptoe, closed her eyes, and pressed her mouth to his, her lips lingering. His eyes widened in shock at the peculiar contact and his body’s response to it. Why would putting her mouth to his cause heat to coil in his groin?
She opened her eyes and scanned his face. “Progg don’t kiss?”
“No.” They didn’t do a lot of things, and there were many more they did but shouldn’t.
“Oh.” She stepped back. “Sorry about that, then.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it! I will be ready the next time.”
“Oh…” she said in a sultry tone. “You want there to be a next time?”
“As soon as possible,” he said.
“Well, then.” She slid into his arms again, and this time he was prepared. When her lips moved, his moved too. And when their lips parted, and the kiss deepened, an instinct he didn’t know he had, took over, and he knew just what to do.
“Wow!” she said, when they parted. “You’re a quick learner.”
“I am,” he acknowledged modestly. It was why he’d done so well at the MEC. He caught on fast.
She smiled and stepped back then swayed.
He grabbed her elbow to steady her. “You should sit down.”
“Kevin has to be fed.”
“I’ll do it.”
“How? The smell of meat makes you sick.”
“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about me. You rest.” He led her to the sofa.
“Yes, dear,” she said facetiously, but sank onto the cushions with evident relief.
Satisfied she’d stay put, he left her to unload the trailers. In two trips, he brought all their stuff inside. He set the dog food cans on the counter. “What should I do with our clothes?” he asked.
“Put them in the bedroom.”
Besides the main living space, there were three other rooms, one of which appeared to be an office, and two that had beds. He chose the larger bedroom because of its convenient attached bath. He dumped their bags on the bed and went to take care of Kevin.
“If you feed him in the hall by the garage, the smell won’t permeate the house as much,” Chloe suggested.
“Good idea.”
“I should help you.”
“No.” A search of the kitchen yielded suitable bowls. One he filled with water and placed in the hall. More rummaging yielded the device that opened cans. He held his breath and pierced the top. His stomach roiled.
Kevin trotted into the kitchen and gazed at him expectantly.
Apparently, he too had a sharp sense of smell—except he liked the odor.
Still holding his breath, Rok shook the dog food into the bowl and rushed it into the hall.
The alacrity with which the dog began to scarf it up caused bile to rise in his throat.
He dashed into the garage, out the big door into the night.
He tossed the noxious can into a covered waste receptacle.
Only then did he release his breath and draw in huge gasps of fresh, cleansing air.
When his stomach quieted, he returned inside to find Kevin had made short work of the dog food. Only a faint lingering odor remained.
But in the kitchen, he found Chloe organizing the pantry! “You’re supposed to be resting!”
“I will. We haven’t eaten either. I figured I should separate the food, so you know what you can eat. Your stuff is on this shelf here.” She tapped an upper tier. “Mine’s on the lower level.”
There were two cans, a jar, and a longish slim box on his shelf, and six cans on hers.
She picked up his jar and the box. “This is marinara sauce, and the box is spaghetti. If we both eat this, you won’t be subjected to any more meat odors tonight.
Tomorrow, we’ll rustle up more food for you because peaches and pears won’t fill you up. ”
“Thank you.” He appreciated her thoughtfulness.
“Could you find me two saucepans, please?”
“This is how you take it easy? You’re not a very good patient,” he said. “If I’m not mistaken, a concussion is when your brain bangs around inside your skull. And you were shot in the head. Sit. I’ll cook.”
“Do you know how?”
“You can direct me from over here.” He guided her to the table.
“You’re kind of bossy, aren’t you?” But he could hear her exhalation of relief as she sank into the chair.
The stove was simple to operate, and, with a few instructions from her, he had pasta boiling and sauce simmering. In no time, he brought the meal to the table.
“You take good care of me,” she said.
“I would like to,” he replied.
“We can take care of each other.”
“I like that even better.”
The spaghetti with marinara proved to be his new favorite Earth food, and he demolished a huge plate of it. She ate sparingly, and, before dinner was finished, her head began to nod, and her eyelids drooped.
“Why don’t you go to bed?” he suggested.
“After I take a bath. I feel grungy. I’ll help you clean up, first.”
“Chloe…” Good Zok, she’s stubborn.
“All right,” she conceded, a testament to her physical condition. She showed him a bottle of blue liquid under the sink and told him to use it to wash the dishes and shuffled toward the bedroom.
He was washing the marinara pot when he heard a shriek.
He raced to the bedroom and into the attached bath.
She gazed into the mirror, her expression horrified. “Why didn’t you tell me I was covered in dried blood! Oh, my god—you let me sit at the dinner table like this! You let me kiss you like this!”
He’d let her kiss him no matter how she looked. “There are a few bloody streaks, and your hair is a little matted, but it’s not bad.”
“Not bad? My hair is stuck to my head. Look at this!” She pointed to a reddish-brown streak running from her temple, down her cheek, and onto her neck. “I’m hideous!”
“You’re beautiful. A little blood doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“No wonder Laurel specifically addressed bathing!” She moaned. “I have to wash my hair! I can’t sleep like this.”
“Maybe I can wipe it out?” he suggested. Most of it. Maybe.
“She did tell me I could blot it.”
Chloe insisted on taking a bath, so while the tub filled with warm water, they worked on her hair. By wetting a cloth at the sink, dabbing and rinsing, he eliminated the blood to her grudging satisfaction.
He offered to bathe her, but she put her foot down.
“I’ll finish up in the kitchen, then.” Reluctantly, he left and rushed through the dishes. When he returned to check on her, he heard splashing and singing through the closed door. Deciding she’d be all right for a little while, he went to shower in the extra bath.
His first Earth bathing experience in the cramped stall of the motor home had been an unexpected pleasure. Standing in the much-larger stall with warm water cascading over him was a pure hedonistic delight. If not for the need to keep an eye on Chloe, he would have stayed much longer.
He dried off and then wrapped the damp towel around his waist.
Wearing a nightshirt, Chloe was in the bedroom. All traces of blood were gone. Damp hair clung to her slender neck. Their clothing sacks were on a dresser. The bedcover was pulled down, and she’d placed their flashlights on the nightstands flanking the bed.
“Am I sleeping here?” he asked.
She looked unsure then. “I’d thought so, but I guess I shouldn’t have assumed…I don’t know…I just felt…” She fluttered her hands. “I didn’t want to be alone, but I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“I’ll stay with you. I would like that very much, but I didn’t want to presume.”
“You showered.” She eyed him.
“In the other bath.” He paused. “It was glorious.”
She laughed, pressing a hand to her bandaged head. “Ow. Laughing hurts my head.”
“Sorry,” he said.
She regarded the glowing bedside lamp. “We should shut off the generator. That’s why I put out our flashlights.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
She sat on the edge of the bed. “If you want to brush your teeth, you should do that while you have light. There are new brushes and toothpaste on the bathroom counter.”
“I’ll do that.”
“We sound like an old married couple,” she said.