then shook his head.
“You realize there’s no way this’ll fit my shoulders?”
When Kayli looked grieved, he shrugged and wrapped it around his waist, tucking in the edges.
Hoping to tease Kayli out of her tense mood, he asked, “Better?”
Her attention went to his still naked chest. “Marginally, thank you.” She rushed into speech. “My sisters will be presented to you first, before the rest of the available females. It would be ideal if you chose one of them.”
“Chose one of them for what?”
Kayli blinked hard and fast, and her mouth moved, but no sound emerged.
Raemay filled in. “We would be honored for you to take union with our family.”
“Take union?” Mallet didn’t like the sound of that at all. “What’s that mean, take union?”
But no one seemed inclined to explain. Instead, Raemay cast her daughter a chiding look. “You haven’t told him of the ceremony?”
“I . . . ah . . . I did, just not in detail.”
Raemay dismissed her with a frown. “I can start them preparing now,” she said. “There is no time to waste.”
Balking at that idea, Kayli gave immediate protest. “But, Mother, Michael must have time to look around.”
“Yeah,” Mallet said, without knowing why he felt compelled to complain. “I need time to look around.”
“And to get to know our ways.” Kayli didn’t look at him, but instead beseeched her mother, “He needs to be fed and rested and, as you can see, properly attired.”
Raemay took in his size in a single scathing glance. “He appears more than capable of feeding and bathing himself.”
Heat scalded Kayli’s cheeks. “Yes, of course. But he’s yet to know how to acquire nourishment here, and we need to find something suitable that’ll fit his unusual proportions.”
Listening to the two women, Mallet decided he needed to know what the hell this union business was about. He had his suspicions, but he hated to jump the gun with a wrong assumption.
Kayli had mentioned a ceremony for him to take his place in the hierarchy. But if the ceremony was a union—with a woman—well, they’d just have to appoint him some other way.
Raemay tapped a finger to her chin as she assessed him. “I doubt there’s anything prepared to suit him. He is rather large.”
“We’ll need to improvise, I fear.”
“Had you forewarned us of this issue to give us time to properly prepare, I wouldn’t have suffered him so improperly attired in my presence.”
“As I recall,” Mallet told her, “I wasn’t attired at all, improper or otherwise.”
“Sir,” Kayli warned, as if speaking back to her mother was a cardinal offense.
Because of Kayli’s unusual jitters, he disliked the mother even more. She spoke down to her daughter, and sounded like a nag.
To redirect the conversation, he asked, “I don’t suppose you have any jeans?”
“Genes?” Bewilderment had her brows pinched down. “But of course. We’re advanced, but every human still has their genetic makeup—”
“No.” Mallet shook his head at the misunderstanding. “I mean blue jeans. Denim.”
“Ah.” Kayli nodded. “It’s a material,” she explained to her mother. Then she said to Mallet, “I saw it on your friends, yes? I believe we could replicate it.”
“Great, because I’m sure as hell not wearing what they wear.” His gaze went over the android assistants with disgust. They looked like a bunch of sissies in their flowing robes and draping pants.
Her mother’s features tightened. “Fine. Any other . . . demands?”
“I could use a big juicy steak and a baked potato.”
Raemay eyed him as if he’d turned into a Neanderthal. “We do not consume beef here.”
“No kidding?” A colony of vegetarians? Hoping he wouldn’t have to follow suit, Mallet asked, “Is that a religious or dietary restriction?”
“Neither,” Kayli interjected. “I can have the meal prepared for you immediately. Would you like to dine here or elsewhere?”
“I don’t
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