“Clothe yourself.” He jerked his head toward the sleeping platform. While she’d been in the washroom, some being had straightened the covers and left a neat pile of clothing on the end.
She started to stand but saw censure in his expression. She froze. What did he want? Oh. “Yes, my lord.” She spoke with her head lowered.
He turned back to his holograms, effectively dismissing her.
Arrogant male.
She stood, her knees cracking from kneeling, and made her way to the sleeping platform. A fluffy pink sweater, knit of the finest natural material she’d ever seen sat on the top of the pile. She picked it up. Downy soft. She rubbed it on her cheeks. She’d never felt anything so soft—not even the fuzzy little seed pods from the rheebush she loved so well. It had the same slightly citrus smell a
