No, I can’t! I have to keep some distance, she told herself sternly. Forcing herself to tear her eyes away from his, she nodded and smiled once more.
“Good night. See you at work tomorrow.”
“Goodnight,” he murmured again, watching as she boarded the tram. His own guest suite was much closer to Pat-ar—he only had to walk a little way to get to it, as he had told Jillian. So she got aboard alone and gave him an awkward little wave.
Kalis returned the gesture and she could feel his eyes on her until the tram was out of sight.
33
It had been a long two days and Jillian was dead tired by the time she finally got into her suite—a comfortably furnished apartment with a single bedroom and a well-outfitted kitchen she used to test new recipes. But no matter how tired she was, she always had to take a shower before she went to bed—no exceptions. Otherwise the scents of the food she’d been cooking all night would be in her hair and on her skin until morning and she didn’t like that.
With a sigh, she stripped out of her Chef’s whites and black trousers and dumped the clothes in the laundry hamper. Then she stepped into the fresher—which was what the Kindred called their bathrooms—and turned the shower on full-blast.
It wasn’t until she stepped under the rushing water and looked down at herself that Jillian noticed what looked like hundreds of tiny red pin-pricks covering her skin from her collarbones down to her mid-thighs.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed aloud, staring down at herself. “What in the world?”
Hastily, she turned off the water and reached for a towel. Stepping out of the shower, she dried herself off quickly and then went to stand in front of the 3-D viewer mounted at the far end of the bathroom.
The tiny red pinpricks looked almost like some kind of a rash, she thought, examining her naked skin in the viewer. But they were only on the front of her body and the palms of her hands—there was nothing on her sides and back or her face, thank goodness.
“What in the world?” Jillian muttered again, surveying herself from side-to- side and front-to-back in the 3-D viewer. “What could have caused this?”
Then, suddenly, she remembered what Kalis had said about the Nebrian’s spines and the way Ambassador Ha’choo Bless’u’s short, prickly hairs had dug into her unmercifully while she was locked in the alien’s embrace. Could this rash-type thing be the result? And why hadn’t she felt or seen it earlier?
Whatever the reason she’d missed it, she was seeing it now and it definitely hurt. Her skin felt tight and dry and painful—almost as though she had a severe sunburn. And every second the pain seemed to get worse as the pinprick rash that covered the front of her body got redder and redder.
Jillian stared at her worsening state in dismay. Had the water in the shower activated the compounds from the Nebrian ambassador’s spines? Or was this just some kind of delayed reaction? She had no idea—just like she had no idea what she was going to do.
Should she go to the Med Center? But would they know how to treat this? Was there some kind of cream or ointment that could neutralize the poison from the alien ambassador’s spines?
You know who seems to know all about the Nebrians and their spines? Kalis, whispered a little voice in her head. Why don’t you call him and see if he can tell you what to do about this? It would be better than getting dressed and dragging yourself down to the Med Center in the middle of the night.
Which was true, Jillian thought. After yesterday, she’d had enough of the Med Center. She found her Think-me and put the thin golden wire around her temples. Then she concentrated on the big Kindred, thinking about how much she wanted to talk to him.
In just a few moments, she felt a line of communication open and Kalis was there.
“Yes, little Mistress?” His mental voice was as deep as his physical one, Jillian thought. “What can I do for you?”
“Um…” Now that she had him on the “line,” Jillian found it difficult to explain her problem. Thought communication was different—more intimate—than speaking out loud. She had often wondered if using the Think-me was how it felt to be bonded to a Kindred warrior and share a permanent mental and emotional link with him.
“It’s not unlike having a bond, but the Think-me doesn’t convey emotion or go nearly as deep as a bond,” she heard Kalis answer her thought. “But is that really what you called me about, Mistress?”
“Oh, er—no. No, I didn’t mean for you to hear that at all,” Jillian sent hastily, feeling like an idiot. She’d better get to the point quickly before she betrayed herself with some other, forbidden thoughts she didn’t want the big Kindred to “hear.”