Chapter Eleven
“Are these the only thing you guys eat or are they just prison food?” Lauren lifted one of the cardboard pop tarts questioningly after the tall man with the red-on-black eyes slid it across to her. “I mean, not that I’m not grateful,” she went on hurriedly. “Because I am. I was just wondering.”
He had been heading for the door to the cell they were keeping her in, but he turned back with obvious reluctance. “Nutra-wafers are specially formulated to provide all the protein, vitamins, and nutrition a warrior needs in a single work cycle. They should keep you in good health until the AllFather is ready for you.”
Lauren cringed at the mention of his father but she was determined not to let fear shut her down. Her jailor was the only person she ever saw—her only hope of escape. She had to form a connection with him.
“I was just wondering if you guys had any kind of junk food,” she said, trying to smile. “You know, Cheetos, Doritos, cupcakes?”
He frowned. “What are those? What is ‘junk food?’”
Lauren sat forward and wrapped his cloak more securely around herself. “It’s food you eat just for fun. It’s usually not good for you but it tastes really good.”
He shook his head. “We have nothing like that. What would be the point?”
“Pleasure is the point,” Lauren said, looking up at him. “For instance, I own a cupcake bakery called The Sweet Spot back on Earth. Nobody who comes in my shop actually needs one of my delicious cupcakes but they buy them for pleasure.”
“I still don’t understand. Why should one take pleasure in eating?” He was still just standing there, staring down at her. Lauren wished he would sit down. If she could just get him to stay with her a little while she might have a chance of connecting with him.
“You wouldn’t ask that if you could taste one of my deep, dark chocolate devil’s food cupcakes,” she said enticingly. “The cake itself is dense and moist and it just fits in the palm of your hand. Well…” She looked at his large, rough looking hands. “You could probably hold two or three. But anyway, when they first come out of the oven they’re hot and sweet and sticky—they practically melt in your mouth.”
“That sounds…strange.”
“Not strange—delicious. Stay and talk to me a little while. I’ll tell you all about it.”
He frowned. “Why should I stay? I have duties to attend to.”
“Because I’m lonely.” She didn’t have to lie about that—it was the absolute truth. “Please…just talk to me for a minute,” she whispered, almost pleading.
“I shouldn’t.” But he settled himself slowly in the opposite corner of her cell and made a motion with his hand. “Go on—tell me more.”
“I frost them twice,” Lauren said, her heart thumping. “With homemade butter cream frosting. First, when they’re hot out of the oven, I put on a thin layer that just melts right down into the cake. After they cool, I frost them again. I pipe out a thick, creamy dollop right on top and then cover them with chocolate sprinkles that crunch when you take a bite.” She closed her eyes, remembering the deep, chocolate flavor wistfully. “They’re so good people come from all over to get one.”
“All the flavors and textures you describe…I’ve never had anything like that.” He shook his head. “We have no such ‘pleasures’ aboard the Fathership.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Lauren sighed. “And that isn’t even my best seller. I make a raspberry filled vanilla bean cupcake with cream cheese frosting that’s out of this world.” Remembering her surroundings, she gave a sad little laugh. “Well, out my world, anyway.”
“You’re very passionate about your work. These things you make—the cakecups—”
“Cupcakes,” Lauren corrected gently, studying him from under lowered lashes as she talked.
Despite his frightening eyes and strange, gray skin, he had strong, noble features that looked like they had been carved out of granite. His profile looked almost Native American and she had an idea that the coal black hair he kept in a club at the back of his neck might be soft and thick if he ever let it free.
“Cup…cakes,” he repeated slowly. “You enjoy making them for others to consume?”
“Yes, I enjoy it very much. I love baking—creating things that give other people pleasure.” She smiled at him. “I wish I could bake one for you.”
“Me?” He looked startled. “Why would you wish such a thing?”
“To see you eat it. To watch your face when you first bite into it—I love to watch people the first time they taste one of my cupcakes.”
“You do?” He sounded perplexed.
Lauren nodded. “Yes—it’s always the same. The smell gets them first—warm and fragrant and then they have to take a bite. Even the ones who swear they’re on a diet—they just can’t resist.”
He leaned forward a little. “Yes? And then?”
“And then the flavor hits them. It rolls over their tongue, sweet and perfect as the cupcake just melts in their mouth. Their teeth sink through that moist, delicious texture and crunch on the sprinkles. Then their eyes roll up in their head and most of the time they moan.”
“They moan?” He frowned, his red eyes narrowing. “I thought you said it was a pleasurable experience.”
“It is. They moan because it tastes so good—feels so good in their mouth. Haven’t you ever had anything that made you feel so good you just had to let it out?” Lauren asked.
He shook his head. “No, never.”
She sighed. “Then I really wish I could give you one of my cupcakes. If we were on Earth, in my shop right now I would hand you one and say, ‘Here you go, Mr…” She paused and tilted her head to one side. “I just realized I don’t know your name.”
He frowned. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. I am called Xairn.”
“Is that your last name or your first?”
“I have only one name.”
“All right. Zzzairnnn.” She rolled the name on her tongue and looked up at him. “And I’m Lauren—but you probably already know that.”
“Your name is known to me,” he acknowledged gruffly. “Not that it makes any difference.”
Lauren refused to be sidetracked. “Xairn, I wish I could bake you a special cupcake to thank you for what you’ve done.”
“What have I done but capture and imprison you?” he demanded.
“You’ve given me more to eat when I asked for it. You gave me your cloak.” She nodded down at the thick black fabric which kept her from freezing in the cold and lonely cell. “And you’ve given me your time and attention when I needed to talk and to hear someone’s voice. I don’t feel so alone because of you.”
He scowled. “You don’t mean that—any of it.”
“Yes, I do,” Lauren protested. “Please don’t be angry. I’m just trying to get to know you.”
Xairn seemed to loosen up a little bit—at least some of the tension went out of his broad shoulders. He really was huge, Lauren reflected. Every bit as big as the Kindred warriors who came to Earth now and then to call their brides. “What do you want to know?” he asked.
“I don’t know…what are your hobbies? What are your dreams?”
He shook his head. “I have neither. I was born on the Fathership and I will most likely die here. I do not aspire to anything else.”
“That’s so sad,” Lauren blurted. “I mean, to never have any hopes or dreams.”
“I have work that must be accomplished or I will be punished,” he offered.
She shook her head. “Uh-uh, work doesn’t count. What do you do for fun? You know, for enjoyment?”
Xairn shook his head again. “Nothing. I told you, we have no pleasures here.”
“Nothing at all?” She leaned forward eagerly. “You don’t play games or read books or watch vids? Don’t you have any pets?”
But she seemed to have said the exact wrong thing. Suddenly his face, which had been almost open to her, closed, and he stood up abruptly. “None of what you mention is permitted here. I must go.”
“Wait!” She reached for him, upset at the sudden change when everything had been going to so well. “Please don’t go—I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”
Xairn looked at her, his eyes narrowed to black and crimson slits. “Cover yourself,” he said coldly. “I have no desire to see your flesh.”
Looking down at herself, Lauren realized that his cloak was gaping open, showing her bare breasts. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling it closed quickly. “It was an accident. I…I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I must go,” he repeated. At the door, he turned to look at her, his face impassive. “Eat your nutra-wafers. They may not be as good as your cupcakes but they will keep you strong until the AllFather sends for you.”
And then he was gone.
Lauren watched the heavy metal door close and heard the muted sound of the locking sequence being keyed in from the other side. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Tears of frustration rose in her eyes and she sobbed aloud before she could stop herself. So close! She’d been so close to making a connection with him—she could feel it. And then…nothing. What did I do? What did I say that upset him? That drove him away?
She sobbed again and then blotted her tears with the corner of his cloak which still carried a warm hint of his scent. It wasn’t just the lost chance that upset her—she genuinely didn’t want him to go. He was the only person she ever saw, the only one who would talk to her. Her only link to the outside world in this claustrophobic metal prison. Watch it girl—you’re stuck on an alien ship, a prisoner of the Scourge—the ultimate bad guys. The last thing you need is a bad case of Stockholm syndrome on top of everything else, she warned herself.
Lauren knew it was true but she couldn’t help herself. Xairn was the only one she had to talk to. She missed him when he was gone.
* * * * *
Xairn stood outside the heavy plasti-steel door and listened to her sob. He told himself that he felt nothing but it wasn’t entirely true. For some reason he wanted to open the door again and go to her. And then he would…What? What would you do?
He didn’t have the faintest idea.
It was a foolish thought, anyway. Better to keep your mind on your duties.
Yes. He had much work to accomplish if he didn’t wish to be punished. And just because the AllFather was no longer able to feed off him didn’t mean he couldn’t devise some cruel and cunning physical penalties. He could have Xairn thrown in the drowning tank, for instance, as he had when Xairn was young. Just the memory of that made him cringe inside. After all these years, he still feared deep water, though he knew how to swim.
I need to get back to work, he told himself, turning away from the soft sounds of distress on the other side of the plasti-steel door. I won’t visit her again. I’ll instruct one of the vat-grown to bring her meals.
The thought of never seeing her again seemed to stab at him, to touch a place inside that ought to be untouchable—frozen like the rest of him. Xairn ignored it. There was work to be done and punishment to be had if the work was not completed. He had no time for the human girl—For Lauren, whispered a voice in his brain—no matter how strangely she made him feel.