"The military provides ration bars for our needs," Rektar says, and then takes another heaping bite of my tahaari pie. I hear the tiniest groan of pleasure from him, and it makes my insides clench deliciously.
I take another bite, shrugging. "A ration bar is enough to keep you alive, but I don't imagine that eating them day after day is very enjoyable. You're more than welcome to come by anytime and I'll fix you a home-cooked meal."
He glances over at me, and the look on his face is one of rueful amusement. "A ration bar is my home cooking. This is more of a treat than you know." Rektar gestures at the food with his utensils. "And it is taking all of my control not to eat all of it."
"You need to work on that control, then," I tease as he adds a bit more of the root pie to his plate.
He freezes, as if he's done something wrong, and looks over at me guiltily.
"I'm kidding," I say softly, reaching out and touching his arm. "I don't normally make all of this just for myself. I made it for you, and it makes me happy to see someone enjoying my cooking." I give his lower arm a friendly squeeze…and immediately, that feels like a mistake. For all that he's an enormous chunk of a man, his arms are absolutely granite. He's not fat, he's just built like a brick wall, solid and thick. I feel flushed and want to keep squeezing that muscle of his, just because of the reaction it gives me.
I pull away, though, because I don't want to be creepy after he's shown me he's not interested. Smiling, I reach for my utensils again and pick at my own food.
We eat in silence.
I hate silence. I get enough of that alone. I think about what he said, that ration bars are his home cooking, and I have to ask. "Your mother served you ration bars?" It seems a shitty way to bring up a kid, but what do I know about alien society? Even though my last owner was mesakkah, he was also very elderly and didn't talk much about his childhood. Surely it can't hurt to ask.
Rektar goes still. His big throat works, and he swallows hard.
Shit. "I'm sorry. Did I ask something inappropriate?"
He shakes his head. "Not at all. It is just…my past is shameful. I was born a bastard to a lesser house. My mother gave me up shortly after birth so I would not bring shame to their name. My family name is al'Aira'n because I served at al'Aira Base when I was growing up. The enunciation at the end tells that it is a name assigned by my unit, not given at birth." His polite smile is faint. "It is a shameful thing and one that most do not bring up."
"I'm so sorry. I really stepped in it, didn't I?"
"Not at all." He pokes at his food, as if hesitant to eat any more. "But now you know why I am out here on Risda III."
"Because you're a bastard?"
Rektar nods. "No matter how well I perform as a soldier, I will only be able to rise so far due to the stain of my birth. This was not a post any logical male would want, so it was assigned to me."
Jeez. "What about Khex? Is he a bastard too?"
He chuckles. "No. I had a good record but a bad name, and so I am here. Khex has a bad record and a good name."
"So he's a naughty boy?" I say, smiling. "And you're the good guy?"
"Something like that." Rektar's smile widens.
My heart aches at the sight of it, because he really is handsome. I love his big, broad features and his shy smile. It doesn't surprise me that he's one that plays by all the rules. I feel bad that life hasn't been fair to him, but then again, it hasn't been all that fair to me, either. Thinking about Khex brings me to a good segue, though. I pick up the last of the tahaari pie, which seems to be his favorite, and dish it onto his plate. I don't blame him for liking it—it's a bit like the sweet potato pie from home, but with a slightly spicier zing to it. It's one of my favorites to make, and normally I'd eat a lot more of it, but for now, I like feeding him. "So…about Khex. Is he…single?"
"He does not have a mate, if that is what you are asking."
"Got his eye on anyone in particular on Risda?"
"Not that I am aware of?" He stares down at the last piece of pie in his plate and then looks up at me. "Why do you ask?"
Time to lay it all out on the table. "Because I think I need a husband," I state point-blank. "And I was wondering if he was up for the job."