©NovelBuddy
PREVIEW
... ted myself from the circus of posturing and mercenary banter, I found myself at a small table—alone, at last, and about to consume something that resembled a real meal.
No nutrient paste. No syn-protein sludge. Just cooked, seasoned, warm-blooded food prepared by someone with hands and a soul.
Heaven.
I had just finished savoring the scent when Kathrine swept into the mess hall like she owned the architecture. Her coat flared slightly from the breeze of the automatic door ...
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