Turn Left for Stars: A SciFi Alien RomCom (Vandalar Concubines Book 3)

by V. K. Ludwig

  Did she mention something about a fire? Because she had me at generous lover. Don’t judge. After more than two years on Agari II without a single decent date... Let’s just say I haven’t properly shaved my hoo-ha in a while.

  “Generous lover,” I mumble, adding it to my notes about him. “Can you tell me anything about his personality?”

  Arching a brow, she stares at me as if asking: personality? Who cares?

  Well. I do.

  Dad was in and out of jail all my life. Mom worked three jobs to keep a leaky roof over our heads. And aunt Nicki? Instead of helping me with homework after school, she told me all I need to know is that communism is evil, before she watched the shopping channel.

  You can’t choose your family.

  But you can choose your saikhs.

  In my case, three of them—as per contractual obligation with the council—and I know exactly what I want: one who likes to snuggle, one who gives amazing massages, and one who makes me laugh. Amazing bedroom skills come standard with all saikhs anyway.

  How hard can it be to find that?

  Turns out, super hard.

  For whatever reason, saikhs scurry away whenever I approach them as if I’m a disease they didn’t get vaccinated for. Which is odd, considering they keep staring at my ass.

  I lean back and glance over the group of soon-to-graduate scholars. “Are any of them funny? Nothing beats a guy with great humor.”

  Neyja gives a non-committal shrug. “You Earth women are odd creatures.”

  Says the lady who fucks guys young enough to be her sons…

  My spine rounds against the hard metal behind me. Guess I have no other choice but to try my luck again after ketuni. See if I can talk to them before they’re released for the day.

  Neyja swats her hand at me. “Ear plugs, woman!”

  “Oh, almost forgot.”

  I quickly pull the little foam buttons from my pocket and squeeze them into my ears. Good thing the Dean provided me with these specialized plugs. During ketuni, all of the saikhs issue several mating growls in unison. One will have me dragging my crotch over the bleachers, metal be damned. Eighty of them? At once? Let’s just say none of the faculty members want to find out.

  The saikhs all fall into a wide stance. In front of me, chiseled abs contract, hard jawlines clench, and the corded muscles on strong arms tense. Eight rows of alien beefcakes, each one sculpted to male perfection.

  It. Is. Glorious.

  They bend their thighs slightly, lowering their center of gravity, wearing nothing but wide, gray linen pants. Got it? Gray. Linen. That fabric shows every damn ridge, every flare, and leaves nothing to the imagination. In that regard, my notes are up to speed.

  When their mouths open as if to snarl, a vibration runs through the bleachers, rattling its way straight into my spine. “Oh shit…”

  Mating growl.

  Even with the ear plugs, that wicked sound turns to liquid heat. It feeds my veins, spreading into every cell of my body, and down to the nails of my pinkies.

  My pussy clenches. Once. Twice.

  In front of me, saikhs move their pelvises perfectly synchronized, and I’ve watched ketuni often enough I remember every single move, shifting my hips with the motion.

  Cock swing left.

  Cock swing right.

  Grind in slow circles, aaand….

  Wait for it. Wait for it.

  Bam!

  Thrust forward.

  It doesn’t take long for the gym to fill with the musk of eighty males. An intense scent heated and laced with testosterone, perhaps a dash of male aggression, which chases shudders up and down my spine.

  Then they shift from one leg to the other, muscular upper bodies gyrating with the motion. Body rolls. They’re sexy, hands down, but my favorite part comes next. Bet they have a fancy name for that as well, but I call them floor humps.

  They all lean over, tasty ass in the air, palms pressed to the ground.

  Three.

  Two.

  One leg lifts up, and they dive their pelvis toward the ground, pulsating there three times before they glide forward and… damn it, I want to be the gym floor.

  It’s sexy. It’s arousing.

  It’s also stunningly elegant.

  Aside from that one saikh in row seven, who somehow manages to awkwardly stumble over his own feet just as he thrusts the wrong way with stiff hips. What a dork…

  They repeat the sequence five more times, always with different angles, and the formation falls apart the moment they’re done. Scattering into smaller groups, they grab their shirts and wipe the sweat off their handsome faces, laughing, chatting, some of them stretching.

  “The saikhmenti could make a fortune selling tickets to this.” I fumble my earplugs out, letting them disappear back into my pockets. “All they need to do is remove that guy in row seven. Zero rhythm.”

  A sigh accompanies Neyja’s nod. “Adrin. Currently the scholar with the worst scores, and I doubt he will pass his finals. A shame, considering he started out so promising.”

  “What happened?”

  “Broke his leg in two places and missed almost a solar cycle of training. He’s been playing catch-up ever since. A poor lover, if only for how stiff and nervous he is. Fantastic domestic skills, though, as long as you don’t ask him to fold laundry.”

  A poor lover?

  Who won’t even fold laundry?

  Neeext!

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” I say and stagger down the bleachers. “Let me see if I can talk to some of them.”

  Forcing a smile onto my face, I try to make myself look as approachable as possible. But the moment I walk toward a handful of saikhs to the left, they all turn on their heels and hurry out of the gym so fast one might think they’re running from me.

  My shoulders slouch. Maybe they are? Ugh, such a narrow-minded, intolerant bunch these Vandalar. Whatever. The other group then.

  When I turn right, toward the flock of saikhs stretching on the ground, they all jump up. One of them mumbles something that ends with “her penis” as he hastens away.

  That’s… odd.

  But the one who jumps up with such speed he yelps “cramp” and technically drags himself away with a limp, nervously glancing back at me over his shoulder? Now that’s just weird.

  My steps slow, muscles tightening. Am I imagining this, or are they all scurrying away from me even faster than they usually do? What’s going on here?

  It takes less than three minutes, and the gym is empty.

  Well, kind of. At the far end, two saikhs I know are Lucan and Silas lean against the wall, stroking each other’s cheeks. Probably practicing. Did they even notice that everyone left?

  Everyone but the saikh who stumbled over his own feet during ketuni. What was his name again? I’ll just call him dork. Dork stares at me from intense, golden eyes.

  He eventually walks over to me, repeatedly dragging a hand over his platinum hair, the ends feathering out around his shoulders. “Hey. You, um, you’re Izzy, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” Something I would deny on Earth since I’m technically a wanted criminal there. “Sorry but… what was your name again?”

  “Adrin.”

  His eyes flick to my crotch for way longer than is polite. Do I stare at their cocks? Hell yeah, but I do so subtly, and none of them ever noticed. What’s he hoping to find down there anyway?

  “Right. Well, Adrin, as it so happens, I was just about to talk to Silas and Lucan. But you have a nice—”

  “Is it true the council gave you an estate, and you will choose saikhs for it?”

  Yup, but not crotch-starers with two left feet like him. “I’m sorry, but I was under the impression the scholars knew. That’s why I keep coming here. So I can observe them all and make a decision.” Which brings me back to… “I really need to talk to those two males over there. Nice chatting with you.”

  The moment I turn away from Adrin, he says, “You’re not serious
ly considering accepting them into your estate together, are you?”

  I glance back at him. “Why would you ask that?”

  Does he know something I don’t?

  Duh… of course he does.

  He’s an insider. I’m shunned.

  Adrin steps up closer, his golden eyes unnerving. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re both very skilled and will please you. And once they’ve done that, they’ll spend the rest of the night pleasing each other.”

  Is he saying… “Those two males are gay?”

  He hikes up a shoulder in response.

  That makes no sense. “Why would they be here if they’re into males?”

  “They’ve received enough training they can perform perfectly for a female. The more important question is, how come you didn’t notice? You spend a lot of time observing us, yet you never caught on to how they gravitate toward each other?”

  “I thought they were practicing.” Great. Now I feel like a dork, or at the very least socially inept. “Well, trust me. I’m trying hard to get to know all the future saikhs, but it’s difficult since everyone keeps running away from me for some reason.”

  Is he staring at my crotch again?

  “Most are turned-off by your tailless backside.” He takes a deep breath. “Your penis isn’t helping either.”

  My what? “Excuse me?”

  “That small cock at the top of your vulva. Professor Smith taught it in Earth Women 101 today, and most scholars fled the lecture room after she mentioned your erection.”

  Yeah, I’m going to have a word with Jessica about how she confuses her students. That’s bad for business. “You have no idea what I would give to have one. Just for a day, so I can do jumping jacks and watch it go boing-boing-boing. I don’t have a cock.”

  “Clitoris. Whatever you call it, it doesn’t bother me.” He sucks in a sharp breath, face momentarily scrunching up. “Maybe it bothers me a little, but I can ignore it. Fact is, I think we can help each other, because I really need your vulva.”

  Whoa, this deteriorated quickly. “First off, nobody calls it that. We either wrongfully call it a vagina, or simply avoid naming it the wrong thing by calling it pussy. Second, you need to step up your seduction game because your attempt at getting into my panties earned itself a hard no.”

  His face scrunches up. “No, I don’t want to sleep—”

  I turn on my heel and head toward the hallway, pushing enough speed into it my flip-flops they squeak. “Bye!”

  “Izzy, wait!” Adrin jogs up to me. “Look, woman. I’m about to fail my finals. My only chance of graduating is to score best in class for Earth Women 101. What I need is a human female to guide me. Help me improve my skills.”

  My soles drag to a halt.

  Oooh. Now I get it.

  Guy wants to play doctor.

  I turn to him, arms folded in front of my chest. “Am I understanding this right? You want to use my body to practice?”

  “Yes.” Filthy alien. “In exchange, I’ll tell you all I know about every single scholar in this building. The good. The bad. The ugly. All the dirt I’ve got on them.”

  All the dirt?

  That… catches my interest. “Practice on me how?”

  His hands shoot up, fingers wiggling. “With these, and my tongue. Nothing more. From what I understand, your internal sex is almost identical to our females, so penetration won’t be necessary.”

  Right, because he’s a poor lover already, no matter in which species he puts it. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? Do you have some sort of bet with the other scholars?”

  “Absolutely no bet,” he says, head shaking. “Nobody can find out about this, Izzy, or they’ll suspend me. This is only between you and me, I swear.”

  Hmmm. He did tell me Lucan and Silas are gay which, thinking about how they constantly caress each other, makes sense now. He also told me he’s about to fail his finals, which matches Miss Quality Stamp’s earlier statement. Why would I not believe him?

  When I allow my eyes to roam over him, Adrin immediately stands tall, and pushes his strong chest out. Small scars cover his pecs and upper arms, all randomly placed, so they’re not traditional kuchi scars. He’s young, virile, his muscles defined and, I’m not going to lie, the idea of this guy going down on me isn’t exactly appalling. Not after it’s been so long, anyway.

  “Alright, I might be open to the idea.” Because… how bad can he be? “How do we do this?”

  “Let me come to where you live tonight.”

  No way. “Do I look like a victim? I’ve watched enough Criminal Minds I won’t let a stranger walk straight into my home.”

  “You cannot come to my room at the saikhmenti or others might catch on to us.” Full lips press into a thin line, which he releases with a smack of his tongue. “Let me come to your estate, and I’ll take you to a place where many of us hang out right after.”

  “How about we go there first, and then I might take you to my estate?”

  He parks his hands on his hips. “You’re pretty demanding for someone who managed to clear males from a gym within seconds. You will take me to your estate, and there, you might prove that you don’t have a penis. If you do, I will take you to the others and make sure they hear about it. I can be at your place at seven.”

  Shit. He has me there. “I work until seven.”

  A look of surprise fleets over his features. “You work?”

  “Downtown. I recruit saikhs for a matching program on Earth.”

  “Huh, interesting.” So much so he stares at me open-mouthed for a moment. “Eight?”

  A flutter of caution plays around in my stomach. Aunt Nicki always said I’d make a great teacher, but I’m pretty sure what she pictured didn’t include an alien stimulating something between my legs he referred to as penis.

  Still, my options are limited. “Let me give you the address.”

  Three

  Adrin

  Whatever the deal between this woman and the council, it has to be important.

  Her estate? Water from the earlier rain reflects from veins carved into the slate walkway, forming a glistening design of flower petals. Yellow sandstone pillars, each decorated with colorful glass drops, frame an estate large enough to house my extended family. This female will need to choose saikhs with well-paid jobs to support this amount of luxury.

  Izzy already stands in the doorway, white bathrobe hiding her curves. “You’re late.”

  “There’s a concert downtown I wasn’t aware of, and it took me forever to catch a drone.” I slip inside, eyes darting to the glass cupola above the foyer. “Nice estate. When did you move in?”

  “A day ago,” she says, leading me through a room stacked with hover crates, and toward a kitchen large enough for five saikhs to cook at the same time. “Want something to drink? A friend of mine sent me some fancy wine.”

  “No wine for me.” After all, I’m studying tonight, so I better stay focused.

  “Where do we do this?”

  “Wherever you’re comfortable, and there’s enough room for you to sprawl out.”

  She gestures me toward the glass stairs. “I’ve got a bed the size of a parking lot.”

  “Given the layout of this estate, I’m sure it accommodates a large number of males.” I follow her upstairs, my pulse increasing with each step. “Once you chose your saikhs, you might want them to sleep with you occasionally, hence the large sleeping pod.”

  “Three guys snoring? No thanks.”

  We step into a bedroom.

  Vek, that sleeping pod is massive. Framed by walls of glass on three sides, all of them overlooking the gardens, it spans five times my height in width alone. Strings of light hang from the ceiling, casting a warm, inviting hue over dozens of pillows, throws, and furs.

  “Our government must like you.”

  “Your government likes that I’ll take three saikhs off their hands and encourage more women to do the same.”

  So the rumo
rs are true. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

  “Just scared, I guess,” she says with a sigh. “Humans are mostly monogamous. I never had a traditional threesome, left alone a third guy.”

  Monogamous. Fascinating. “How come you decided to go from one male to three?”

  Her smile is too strained, as if old pain drags on the corners of her lips. “There’s a sense of safety in numbers. Whenever one lets you down, there will always be two others to catch your fall. I like the idea.”

  Is that what happened? A former lover let her down? “What they want won’t matter. You don’t have to be intimate with all three of them at once, though many males prefer it for the sake of equality among them.”

  That’s where our small talk runs out, and the silence echoes louder with each breath I take, making me awfully aware of the slight whistle coming from my left nostril.

  Izzy shifts from one leg to the other. “Do you have, like, a specific goal for today?”

  Not scaring her off. “Just practicing some movements with my fingers.”

  “Until I orgasm?”

  A sudden wave of panic sucks all blood from my fingers, rendering the digits cold and numb. Is that what she expects of me tonight? Way to kickstart that performance anxiety.

  I slip out of my shoes. “I’ve never made anything orgasm that had an actual heartbeat.”

  Why is she arching a brow at me like that? Oh great, now she’s pursing her lips. Nothing’s worse than pressure, and she just dumped a massive load on my shoulders.

  “Look, Izzy, I want to be honest with you.” Drown her expectations right there… “I’m—”

  “A poor lover, I know. The sheri’ma already told me, and it’s fine.”

  Ouch. That stings. “I wanted to say not overly ambitious.”

  “Oh… Sorry about that.”

  It stings a second time, mostly because she has nothing to apologize for since it’s true. Still, hearing it from her lips hurts worse than a beating in the fight pits. Maybe I should head home? I’m too worked up already, priming myself for failure.