He picked up his book and opened it. The silence stretched as he began going through it.
Vetta hovered over him, wanting to share this moment with him. He writes, reads, and works with Danika—the one thing she couldn’t do. She hated it! She tried to see the words, but they may as well have been written in a foreign language. She was just literate enough to recognize the occasional word, so she focused her attention elsewhere.
Vetta placed her hand on his hair, and he stiffened automatically at the contact. But he didn’t pull away or order her out. She took it as the plus it was. She reveled in running her hand through the soft mass of curls. He had the best texture of hair.
“The reason I’ve been searching for you all morning is because of Danika,” he stated firmly, his concentration bac
