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

by V. K. Ludwig

  A surge of pride rushes through me, drowning out two solar cycles of frustration. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

  She glances over her shoulder, her features softer now, satisfied. “You get better and better.”

  One might think that was bound to happen when I finger her every day, but it’s the growing familiarity between us that eases my insecurities. The movies we watch together, meals we share, conversations we have late into the night, and how she rubs the cooling gel into my muscles whenever I show up after training…

  I dare say we’re friends.

  Six

  Izzy

  Living on a strange planet is exciting.

  Especially when you’re staring at a bunch of roots and tubers, all oblong, all about the same size. One of them is poisonous when not prepared correctly. Which one is it again?

  So exciting…

  Ignoring my churning stomach, I grab a root, a knife, and cut off a slice. Pinched between my fingers, I dangle it in front of my nose, but can’t detect a bad smell. Doesn’t poisonous stuff smell bitter?

  I poke my tongue out.

  Surely a tiny lick won’t kill me?

  “Drone approaching the estate,” Vem, my virtual estate manager, says. “Should I issue permission to land?”

  My chest lightens. That can only be Adrin. “Permission granted.”

  I put the veggie down, wash my hands in the sink, and crack the door open. “What’s up stranger?”

  Adrin leans in the doorway gleaming down at me, one hand behind his back, his smile carrying a bold edge that wasn’t there in the morning. “Ask me how I scored.”

  I step aside and let him in, a grin pulling my lips taught. “How did you score?”

  “Top of class, which is kind of an achievement, considering we’re twelve scholars now.” His hand appears with a bouquet of holographic flowers, which immediately sweeten the air. “As a thank you for putting up with me this morning.”

  Because coming apart against his finger was such a nuisance. “That’s so sweet of you. Wanna drink something?”

  “I’d take that wine tonight,” he says with a wink. “To celebrate.”

  I carry the flowers into the kitchen. “Be good and hand me a charged vase from the top left cabinet, will you?”

  “Is that a rukoni root?” he asks as he hands me the vase, his pupils darting over the kitchen. “Izzy, they’re poisonous.”

  Glad he recognizes it. “Which one?”

  Of course he holds up the one I cut. “Please tell me you didn’t eat from this?”

  Only contemplated licking it. “Of course not.”

  “What were you trying to cook anyway?” Three swipes, and he changes the language settings on the Vem-hologram back to Vandal. “Lem’fi arrez? You won’t like this.”

  I arrange the flowers on the kitchen island, then grab a bottle of the wine Steph sent me, along with two glasses. “How so?”

  “Remember the grains I brought you last week? The red ones?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You said it’s too spicy, and this will turn out similar in taste.” He grabs a purple tuber and holds it underneath my nose. “See the black veins on the skin? Like a web? We’ll leave this one out.”

  While I pour us two glasses of wine, Adrin grabs the knife, slicing the toxic tuber in quarters. He breaks off skin and flesh, revealing a bright orange core which he rinses off.

  “This is the only edible part.” With a fresh knife, he cuts off a small piece, clasps it between his fingers, and brings it to my lips. “Try. It’s delicious.”

  Lips part, tongue curling around the fibrous texture, hints of mango and cream covering my gums. “So this is a sweet recipe? Not savory?”

  “The sweetness dissipates as it cooks.” Without warning, he grabs my hips and lifts me onto the counter beside him. “Up with you. How hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  He pushes the sleeves of his black sweater up, the prominent veins marking his underarms telling me he came here straight after sparring. Which explains the subtle hint of sweat mixed with that menthol-type of gel he rubs into his muscles after, making him smell like… like Adrin.

  It’s nice having him around. Truth be told, the estate is a lonely place whenever he isn’t. Besides, what can beat this view? A tall, ripped Vandalar male cooking for me? The only thing missing is him stripping down so I can hand him a tiny apron with something obscene written on it.

  He proficiently cuts something else into even cubes. “This goes into almost every dish. Open up.”

  He clasps a small cube between his fingers and trails it over my bottom lip. Warmth rushes through me, like a heated quiver between my thighs. It’s so potent I gasp.

  His golden eyes lock on my lips as he slowly feeds me something that’s… most definitely onion, and I let out a small squeal. “Eww… Adrin.”

  He bursts into laughter. “Now your breath will smell of it for days.”

  “Way to ruin my saikh search.” The heavy merlot barely manages to camouflage the slight sting on my tongue. “Which reminds me… when do I get to meet that tech heir?”

  “Oh, I changed my mind about him. He isn’t the kind of male you need.”

  With his hands busy chopping, I offer him a sip of my wine. “Is that so? Now you make me curious. What is the kind of male I need?”

  He scratches the veggies into the pan and turns the heat on. “Someone who provides you with continuous reassurance without suffocating you. Caring, but not clingy.”

  Someone has been analyzing my childhood trauma. “And my second saikh?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” He stirs and sautés the chopped veggies, and the air thickens to something mouth-watering around us. “Choose someone who recognizes poisonous ingredients and knows how to prepare them. You’ll live longer for it.”

  My legs dangle from the counter as he adds spices to the frying pan. His sure movements, the confidence in his straight spine, and how he hums a melody as he cooks — it’s cute.

  I offer him another sip of wine, and he holds perfectly still when my thumb wipes a lost drop running down the corner of his mouth. “And the third?”

  “If I remember correctly, the pamphlet at your office mentioned licking your cunt once a day?”

  Oh, Steph… “At least once a day.”

  “Right.” A boyish grin curls his lips. “Professor Smith said we’ll get to that subject tomorrow.”

  “How come you’re so insecure when it comes to intimacy, but are a completely different person when fighting?” Or even cooking…

  “I started fighting at a young age, and the movements come naturally. Silas, Joshia, Zorvik… intimacy with a female is something none of us have experience with since there are few females.”

  I flinch at the potential meaning. Is he saying they’re all a bunch of virgins, aside from their assessments with the sheri’ma?

  “Zorvik never seems this anxious,” I say. “Neither does Odrin.”

  “Zorvik didn’t miss a solar cycle of training. And my brother is a cocky bastard, who managed to convince a female that her breasts were oddly shaped. Needless to say he immediately offered her acceptance in his arms, and ended up veking her which, given a ratio of three females per seven males, is an achievement, I give him that.”

  I almost choke on my wine.

  So they are virgins!

  My entire body prickles with curiosity. Am I a pervert for wanting to rip my clothes off, spread my legs, and properly deflower this guy? Watch the confusion on his face? The overwhelming shock and satisfaction? My imagination is going overboard.

  “You haven’t said anything in almost a minute.” His tail deactivates the heat on the stove just as he turns to me, caging me between his arms, his smirk lopsided. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

  I swallow. “Ask what?”

  “Earth women can’t help it, can they?” Even as he shift his balance back, his body heat continues to linger between us. “You’re so easy to re
ad. I’ve never been with a female, Izzy. Not in a way that is meaningful.”

  That confession shouldn’t melt my heart the way it does. “Want me to help you with that?”

  His brow flicks up. “What?”

  “What?” My heart clanks against my throat. Did I just suggest that? That’s the wine talking. “The food… I mean. Should I get you a plate as well?”

  His stare lingers, each time it slips to my lips agonizing, until he smacks his tongue and pushes himself away from the counter. “I could do with some food. Sparring stirs quite the appetite.”

  He takes the two plates I hand him and arranges the food. “Where would you like to eat?”

  “Actually, I wanted to watch a movie. Living room?”

  With a nod, he carries the plates and two forks over to a couch only remotely smaller than my bed upstairs. “What are we watching?”

  “Haunting of the Mist.”

  The couch puffs up as he slumps down beside me. “For the record, I’m not going to turn around at the saikhmenti again like last week, coming back to your place to check your closets for ghosts.”

  “Ghosts don’t exist.” Everybody knows that. “It’s zombies I’m scared of.”

  “Zombies don’t exist either.”

  “They said the same about aliens.” And look how that turned out.

  “I’m not doing it,” he repeats, as if he didn’t have a blast scaring the crap out of me when he jumped out of said closet with a shout. “Why do you keep watching these movies if they scare you?”

  I lean against his shoulder and dig in. “You’re making it sound like it’s my fault your actors are fucking scary, considering they come with clawed tails and horns. No make-up needed.”

  He offers a final grunt and rolls his eyes before we eat dinner in relative silence. Once we’re both done, he takes our plates and puts them on the stone table in front of us.

  “The next scene creeps even me out,” he says after a while. “Are you going to cover your eyes again?”

  “Probably.” Who doesn’t watch horror movies through the cage of fingers?

  “You should.” His voice drops into an ominous whisper. “You don’t want to see what’s in the mist.”

  I shrink into the couch, a flurry swirling at my core. “Why? What’s in the mist?”

  “Close your eyes, Izzy,” he rasps, the way he shoves around on the couch driving my pulse up, but it pounds my brain when he suddenly pulls his legs onto the couch. Why is he pulling his legs up? Is there something underneath?

  My legs snap up. Too late.

  Something grabs my ankle and pulls.

  I fall onto my back with a scream.

  Everything turns dark.

  Adrin’s chuckle vibrates through the couch. “Open your eyes. Nothing happened. He literally walked into the mist, then turned, and went back inside his lab.”

  I force my eyes open, and I swear my vision quakes with every ragged beat of my heart. “You jerk! Why would you scare me like this?”

  “Isn’t that the point of these movies?” Wrapping an arm around my middle, he pulls me up, hauling me in front of him between his legs. “Damn, you’re shivering for real.”

  “Am I now?”

  “You’re adorable. Come on, I’ll massage it away.” His fingers knead beside my spine, right where neck ties into skull, and I immediately ease my back against his chest. “I’ll tell you what’s in the mist. Aliens. Weird-looking creatures with no horns. No tails. Come to think, they remind me of humans.”

  “Mmmh… funny”

  Applying more pressure, he runs his thumbs from my shoulder over the sides of my neck, circling them right behind my ears. A push here, a gentle rub there — this male knows how to turn my body soft, pliable.

  I all but melt against him. “Still upset with you.”

  The circles on my neck spiral down toward my shoulders, massaging tight muscles, his grip firm but the movements sensual, heating my blood.

  “Even if I check for zombies before I leave?” His whisper hushes over the nape of my neck before knuckles glide over the curve.

  Damnit, my eyes flutter shut all on their own, heightening my other senses. His hard body presses against mine, the heat he emanates thickening my blood, turning my limbs soft and heavy at the same time.

  Small gasps accompany his every exhale, and I sense his lips inches from my skin, hovering there, sprouting goosebumps with nothing but their presence. Would it be so bad if we skipped the other stuff and took care of his penetration angles? Is he contemplating the same question?

  He has to be, because his thick length rests against my bottom, growing harder by the second. The moment I slip my hand between us and stroke over his cock, exploring those ridges underneath the fabric of his pants, a deep groan rattles through his chest.

  One of his hands immediately glides down my waist and between my legs, stroking me there. “I’ll get you off if that’s what you need.”

  “What about you?” When I slip my hand into his pants, the massaging stops, and he stalls my advance with a grab to my wrist.

  His lips brush against my neck. “You shouldn’t.”

  Why not? “You don’t want me?”

  “Of course I want you.” His voice is so faint I’m not sure if he just thought out loud.

  I turn to face him, keeping my hand in place. “I’m curious.”

  Curious about the warmth of his skin, the strength of his muscles, the feeling of my hands gliding over his scars, his light body hair. He’s touched me so many times — never have I touched him.

  His displeased grunt sends a tingle down my spine, and yet he guides my hand into his pants, his fingers arranging mine to wrap around his shaft. “Does this sate your curiosity? How my cock feels in your hands?”

  Not nearly.

  Sensing the ridges, the engorged veins feeding his shaft, and how he, ever so slightly, thrusts into my hand — if anything, I want to find out what he feels like inside me. When I squeeze the flare at the tip of his cock in encouragement, he jerks at the touch, a slight tremble settling onto his body.

  “I should head home.” He quickly pulls my hand out, gets up, and somehow manages to slip me onto the couch all at once. “Classes start early tomorrow, and I have a tournament coming up.”

  I blink up at him. “You don’t have to be nervous. Not with me.”

  “Nervous?” He scoffs, opening up his hair only to fold it into a messy bun between his horns once more. “That’s not it.”

  “What then?”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes momentarily squeezing shut, then kneels down before me. “I like you a lot, Izzy. Enjoy the time we spend together, and I’m not referring to those moments when my hands are between your legs. Which is a weird arrangement in itself. I consider you a friend and wouldn’t want to risk it by crossing yet another line.”

  And just like that, he friend-zones me.

  Seven

  Adrin

  I leave the campus gym and head across the crowded squad, one of our three moons already casting a blueish hue over whatever is this weekend’s entertainment. Scholars lounge on the grass around fire pits, discussing the upcoming finals, work, and potential offers to join an estate.

  Scoring a drone takes forever, but it quickly brings me from the top of the Keneshu Mountains to downtown Sunhaven, where our capital nestles. Inside the Horn Splitter, a female fighter drills her horns into the chest of a male who clearly dropped his defenses.

  I head over to the left bar and sit down beside Odrin. “What’s up?”

  “Finally.” He hands me a bottle of yerku, the fermented drink probably long stale. “This place is packed tonight.”

  Suits me just fine.

  Peace and quiet is the last thing I need. Shit makes my mind wander back to how Izzy grabbed my cock a few nights ago. How far would that have gone? I need to stop asking myself that question. Nothing good ever comes from pondering over a perfectly reasonable decision. She’s curious. Not
hing else. Given how she’ll end up with three Vandalar male, it’s only natural she wants to know how we’re built.

  Now she knows.

  End of story.

  Odrin orders another round of drinks, then turns his attention back to me. “Did you lose weight?”

  “Had to, before they put me into the highest weight class.” Also, my shirts started to get a bit snug. “Are you coming to my fight at the next tournament?”

  “Not sure yet. Someone ordered a custom dream for his sleeping pod, and I’m struggling with the complexity of the programming.” He empties his bottle and moves straight to the next. “If I complete the job in time, I’ll be there for sure. Our little sister said you invited her?”

  “With her two saikhs. My plan is to invite Izzy as well. She’s uncomfortable with the idea of living with three males. Figured it might help her to see such an arrangement in action. Besides, I want her to meet Nena since Izzy is struggling to make female friends.”

  Odrin scoffs. “Aren’t we all?”

  Not me, though the definition of friendship distorted a little when I closed Izzy’s hand around my shaft. Guess those three weeks we spent together made me a little too comfortable around her. Anxiety? Panic? Somehow, this woman replaces it with a strong sense of serenity.

  Still, we can’t let this swing out of control. It’s bad enough I’m breaking a bunch of rules by practicing on her. No need to take this further and increase the risk of suspension if anybody found out, or worse, put our friendship on the line.

  “You should invite her to come right now.” The way Odrin glances at something behind my back curls the toes in my sneakers. “We both know you’ll forget otherwise, and she’s sitting right there.”

  My guts twitch.

  When I glance over my shoulder, my entire stomach turns upside down. Why didn’t she mention she’d meet Zorvik tonight? Probably because it’s none of my damn business.

  Five healthy swallows, and my bottle is empty. On to the next. “I’ll ask her tomorrow.”