“That scent! What is it?” Janelle asked, pointing at some cinnamon buns. “It smells so good! It smells like you do sometimes. What is it called?”
Doom snorted, but quickly regained his composure, although still visibly trying not to chuckle. Reklig, irreverent as ever, burst out laughing. The women gasped, Martha biting the insides of her cheeks not to laugh as well. My face and my chest heated. Lucky for me, my dark scales further darkening didn’t show, unlike the Xian Warriors whose golden scales visibly darkened when they were embarrassed.
“It’s called cinnamon,” I said, trying to hide how mortified I felt.
Janelle cast a confused look at the others, an uncertain expression on her face. It struck me then that she must be thinking they were laughing at her ignorance.
“We’re laughing at Reaper,” Doom said, perceptive as always.
“Why? Because he sometimes smells like cinnamon?” Janelle asked, more confused than ever when the team laughed again. “Is it a bad thing? I like it.”
“It’s not a bad thing at all,” Madeline said, glaring at her mate and the rest of the team. “Reaper can tell you all about it later. For now, you slackers all need to hurry up and eat. We have a ton of meat that will soon go bad outside unless we get cracking.”
I could have kissed Reklig’s mate for sparing me further humiliation. I gave her a grateful psychic nudge, which she reciprocated. How was I supposed to tell Janelle that the cinnamon scent came from the pheromones I released every time I became aroused? That if I released enough of them, it would drive my mate—her—insane with lust?
We settled at the table and made quick work of our meal. Seeing my mate munch on the small piece of cinnamon bun Jessica allowed—barely a couple of bites—did crazy things to me. Seeing Reklig’s taunting grin as she did so made me itch with the urge to punch the insufferable male. Although he was one of my best friends—almost a brother—I often wrestled with the need of giving him a good trouncing. Provoking and taunting were pretty much a standard personality trait with male Scelks.
Sadly, we didn’t finish opening the basement or butchering the Zebiers before we called it a night. The basement would be a few more hours, but the Zebiers would take at least another full day. After much debate, we agreed not to let all that meat go to waste and tweaked the temperature of the cargo hold to temporarily turn it into a cold room overnight.
After Jessica gave my mate another medical examination, she gave her the go ahead to sleep in her own quarters. We were both extremely pleased with Janelle’s speedy recovery. After her initial weakness in the morning, my woman had steadily grown stronger during the day, despite the work she had performed. The only reason I hadn’t objected to her helping cut meat was because she’d done so under the supervision of our Chief Medical Officer, ensuring she didn’t overexert herself.
I escorted Janelle to the quarters that had been assigned to her, which were next to mine. Thoughtful as always, the women had brought along extra clothes for any survivors we might rescue, including sleepwear for the mission. My mate’s eyes widened at the sight of the room. It was decorated in the usual black and gold of the Vanguard, although with the lighter grey walls we often used inside ships. A large bed occupied the right side of the room, framed by a pair of nightstands. Two doors on the right wall gave access to the closet and to the bathroom complete with shower. On the opposite side, a small seating area with a loveseat and a chair faced a giant screen. In addition, a small breakfast table sat in the corner near the door.
Janelle approached the bed with hesitant steps before touching the mattress, a look of wonder on her face.
“This is your space until we get home,” I said softly. “If you need anything, you only have to ask. We want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
She nodded absentmindedly and looked around the room before staring back at me with an odd expression.
“Let me show you how things work,” I offered, suddenly feeling awkward.
I showed her how to operate the entertainment system, the com system—even though everyone usually communicated telepathically, the basic vocal commands for the ship’s artificial intelligence, and the room’s thermostat. Although she had already showered with Jessica’s help when I’d first taken her to the ship, I walked her through it again, seeing how she’d been fairly out of it back then.
As I gave her the tour, Janelle appeared to grow increasingly tense and quiet. I didn’t quite know how to interpret her behavior. When I asked her if everything was fine, she simply nodded. Was she just exhausted and wishing for me to leave?
“All right, you must be tired. I will let you rest. I’ll see you in the morning,” I said, utterly confused.
“Good night,” Janelle said, with a neutral and detached tone.
Fighting the urge to hug or kiss her goodnight, I nodded in goodbye then walked out of the room, wondering what the fuck had just happened.
10
Janelle
The door’s discreet sound as it swished closed behind Reaper was nearly deafening to my ears. I clasped my hands before me, fighting the growing uneasiness that was making my stomach queasy. My palms felt clammy and my chest heavy, making it difficult to breathe. I cracked my neck to try and release some of the tension building in my nape.
Forcing myself to move one foot in front of the other, I showered, reveling in the feel of the warm water on my skin and the soothing sound of it raining on the tiled floors. For the ten or so minutes it lasted, I almost found peace again. But as soon as I turned off the water, the silence closed in around me, oppressing, suffocating. By the time I finished drying, my heart was pounding in my throat. Putting on the soft, light grey nightgown sitting on the corner of my bed proved quite a challenge with my hands shaking so much.
And that silence… That wretched silence.
It felt like a living entity had taken possession of the walls themselves. It was closing in on me, crushing me. Feeling dizzy, I sat at the edge of the bed. But the relief to be off of my wavering knees was short-lived. Shadows at the edge of my vision had my head jerking this way and that. I could have sworn I’d spotted a rotting patch of membrane on the walls, slithering its way around, trying to move out of sight until it would devour me in my sleep. It was eyeing me, stalking me. I could almost smell it, rank and putrid, like the murky water it had been serving us in our last days of captivity.
My stomach twisted in a knot, and a sharp pain in my hands made me realize I’d been clenching them so hard my nails were digging into my palms. Jumping to my feet, I rushed out of my quarters and straight to Reaper’s. I frantically pounded on his door, ignoring the door announce that I could have simply rung. But my brain had ceased to function rationally. I blinked furiously to hold back the tears that were pricking my eyes.
The door finally opened on Reaper, naked but for the shorts he was finishing pulling up.
“Janelle?” he said, a shocked and worried expression on his face.
I threw myself into his arms and held him with the energy of despair, my face buried in his broad chest. His arms closed around me, and I immediately felt safe, even though my body continued to shake for a while. I inhaled deeply his clean, fresh scent, wild and untamed, laced with the lingering aroma of the soap he’d just used when he’d showered.