"It's me," Kas calls out from the next room. "We both know it's me."
I burst into laughter. "Nice try, babe."
Kaspar appears a moment later, wearing nothing but the ragged kilt I made for him a few weeks ago. It's too humid to wear much, given that it rains every day and the ship stays incredibly warm. We keep the door open to let the breeze in, but the humidity and temperature mean that it's constantly sticky. Even now, his gorgeous blue skin gleams with damp sweat, and he's got a few smears of grease on his plated brow and more on his hands. He holds a metal tool of some kind and places one hand to his chest in mock-pain. "Are you laughing at my hunting skills, Sunshine? That wounds me."
I roll my eyes at his pretend-offended voice. "We both know your skills are in the bed and not at hunting."
"Dead," he proclaims. "I'm absolutely dead. Destroyed by the truth." He leans against the doorjamb and closes his eyes, all drama. "Bury me now."
I just giggle and scratch at Sterre's hide even harder to let her know how awesome she is. The food supplies in the ship are all old but well preserved. Even so, we know they won't last forever, so we've been working hard on trying to catch our own food—without much luck. Kaspar has had zero catches in his traps, no matter how he sets them up. It's like everything here is on to him, and they won't come near a trap no matter how well he baits it.
I'm pretty sure Sterre is convinced we're two idiot kittens that don't know how to take care of ourselves, because she's constantly bringing us kills to eat. If it weren't for her efforts, we'd definitely be suffering from hunger. As it is, we're well fed and happy. I extricate myself from Sterre's limbs and give the carinoux a kiss on the nose, then head over to the dead bird. I pick it up with two fingers, holding onto a clawed foot. It reminds me of a parrot from home, but oversized and with nasty-looking talons on each foot. "Looks like we're having bird meat and noodles again tonight."
"My second-favorite meal," Kaspar tells me, moving behind me and wrapping his arms around me. He leans over and presses his mouth to the curve of my neck, kissing it with loud smacking noises.
I squeal, because he's sweaty and covered in grease, and try to wriggle away. "Gross! Get off me!"
"That's not what you said last night." He ignores my attempts to get away, and I give up, since I'm now covered in his sweat as well as my own. "I think last night it was 'Oh, Kas, do it again—’"
I snort. "Are you going to brag about how hard you made me come?"
"No." He nips at my ear and then murmurs into it, "I'm going to brag about how I made you come three times."
Grinning, I toss the dead bird onto the nearest table and snuggle back against him as he kisses my ear and nibbles on the shell of it. We just made love first thing this morning, but it feels like he wants to go right back to bed. "How's the communicator coming?" I ask, sucking in a breath when he tongues my earlobe in the way he knows makes me absolutely mad.
He sighs heavily and presses a kiss to my hair. "It's not. I think I need to go back to our old pod and scavenge it for supplies."
My happy mood dissipates. I slide out of his grasp and turn to look up at him, frowning. "You what?"
Kas shrugs. He swipes at his nose with the back of one hand, leaving a grease streak there. "I tagged the location of our old shuttle in my data pad, just in case. I figure it'll take me a day or so to get there. I can strip it of some wiring and some other stuff, and then we can try to work it into this ship. I bet I can get at least part of the comm unit working in no time."
He smiles at me, as if this is the easiest thing in the world.
I know it worries him that we've been stranded here for two months without a peep. He's positive his brothers are combing the galaxy looking for him, and he wants to let them know he's all right. That we're fine, and we're just waiting for a rescue. Me, I'm far less enthusiastic about a rescue. I'm used to waiting.
And I'm not sure I want to be rescued.
We have food and water. We have a shelter and a comfortable bed. Sterre hunts for us. We have clothes—admittedly terrible clothes mostly made up of pieces of old uniforms we've knotted together—but the weather here is hot and humid and we don't need much. We're safe from the ever-present rain and bugs. We have each other for company.