Frisk by Viola Grace Read Free Book Online

ready for bed.
    Her silk gown was one of a dozen that she had brought from earth and one of only six survivors. She embraced the comfort of the familiar fabric and settled against the sheets and pillows, sliding into slumber. Tomorrow had to be less surprising, because she didn’t know how much more she could take.

Chapter Seven
    Waking before dawn was going to be a hard habit to break. Lera got out of bed, took a shower, changed into a comfortable tunic and trouser set and then she headed for the kitchen.
    Her memory for interior layouts was excellent, and it helped her find her way back to the source of all snacks. She hummed to herself as she made a batch of pancakes, put it under the warmer and then prepared some berry syrup.
    By the time she finished the syrup and turned around, she had an audience. Apparently, for breakfast, shirts were optional. Coma was wearing a loose top, but her cleavage was easily visible in the open neck of her sleepwear.
    “Oops. Did I wake you?” She was embarrassed. She had made enough pancakes for six, but she wasn’t sure if all the Guardians ate them.
    Coma came forward, her dark purple hair tousled. “What is that smell?”
    “Pancakes. Um, a sort of flat breakfast cake eaten hot with a syrup.”
    Shatter stumbled past her, and he brought a pack of sausage out, putting it in the heater.
    The bots already had a table set, so there was nothing left for her but to shepherd the Guardians to their seats and put a pot of caf in front of them.
    Lance wasn’t speaking, but he poured caf for everyone and handed the cups around.
    “So, how early is it?”
    Coma smiled. “We would be getting up anyway in an hour or so. The smell grabbed us and hauled us out of bed.”
    Lance grunted. “Do you always rise so early?”
    “My shift would start in an hour. I had better be up and ready to work.” She put the sausage patties down and slid the first pancake stack on the table.
    She sat and noticed that they were watching her for the clues. She took two pancakes and set them on her plate, poured syrup over them and hoisted a sausage patty onto her plate.
    With quick motions, she took a wedge of pancake, speared the sausage and ate it.
    The others immediately followed her example and soon exclamations of surprise rang out.
    Lance was rapidly waking up. “I had no idea you could cook.”
    “You didn’t ask. In my home, it was cook for yourself or go hungry.” She quickly got up and retrieved the rest of the pancakes.
    “Why?”
    “My mother worked, and we had no one else to cook for us, so we learned.” Lera smiled. “It made for some interesting food combinations and prepared my stomach for life in the stars.”
    Her three companions laughed. She grinned. Anyone who had been to more than three worlds with differing species knew what a gut bomb felt like.
    “So, what is your impression of a sampling of Terran food? Almost every culture on earth has a version of this item for breakfast or a light snack.”
    The plates were empty, the platters were empty and the Guardians were looking at her hopefully.
    Coma cleared her throat. “How long would it take for you to make more?”
    Lera chuckled. “A few minutes. How many do you want?”
    Shatter cleared his throat. “The same again?”
    She nodded and paused next to Lance. She kissed the corner of his mouth, licking at the syrup that was standing out in purple on his skin. “Morning, Lance.”
    He tried to get up to follow her, but Coma hissed at him. Apparently, no fooling around until breakfast had been served.
    Lera mixed, flipped and served another eighteen pancakes, keeping them all under the heater until another batch of syrup had been created. The sugar and berries bubbled away, and when the bubbles were large enough, she pulled it off the heat and poured it into the jug. She set the jug in ice for a moment to stop the molten death that she had created, and when she was sure no one would be injured, she set the fresh stacks on the