“But—”
“Let it go. We’re done here. Do what you gotta do, Winslet, but I’m outta here.” With that, Drew tossed his cigarette, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and then disappeared into the mist.
Ryan frowned into the darkness as she walked toward her car. She had more questions now than when she’d started. There were now two things she did know for certain, though. One, something big and fishy was definitely going on in Golden Beach, and two, she was going to find out what it was.
Chapter Four
Tiberius exhaled, watching as the body of Ricardo Marzione, a.k.a. Slick Rick, sank into the depths. It’s a shame, he thought, that humans are not adaptable enough to breathe under water. The thought of Slick Rick sitting down there, reflecting on his mistakes for the rest of his tragically short lifespan, was preferable to the quick and easy death he and Quintus had dealt out. It was more than a bottom feeder like Marzione deserved.
Tiberius didn’t like taking a life, but he had a responsibility to care for those who had put their trust and faith in him. A good scare and public humiliation simply weren’t enough of a deterrent to those who preyed on young women and profited by selling them as sex slaves.
“It had to be done,” Quintus said quietly from beside him.
“Sane quidem.” Clearly indeed.
Well, no one could say their first journey around the Earth’s sun had been boring thus far. In the past twelve months, they had faced many challenges, not the least of which was learning the customs and practices of local culture.
For instance, discovering that paramours like Sugar and Spice were essentially breaking the law had been shocking. On Aequoria, such a calling was both a respected and highly lucrative profession. The best courtesans, female and male, studied their vocation for years, becoming experts in the physical and spiritual pleasures of the body, and were highly sought after. The need to touch and be touched, to connect with another, was an intrinsic and enjoyable aspect of life.
In that respect, humans weren’t all that different. They, too, sought comfort and pleasure in one another. The difference was, outside of political officials, that sort of thing was frowned upon here, effectively forcing participants to operate outside the protection of the law.
In Tiberius’s opinion, suppressing those intrinsic urges and forcing them into the realm of the illegal, dirty, and taboo not only seemed counterproductive but ultimately damaging to the individual and society, as well.
Why not allow consenting adults to take pleasure in one another? Why not provide a safe, controlled environment for the curious, the lonely, and the willing to seek out those wholly natural physical connections? And, like any skilled professionals who provided such a desired and valued service, shouldn’t they be justly compensated?
To Tiberius, who had been raised in such a world, it was, as the locals said, “a no-brainer.”
However, much to his dismay, he had also discovered that many who engaged in the profession did not do so by choice, but out of desperate necessity, and that made all the difference. In any civilized, evolved society, the freedom to choose one’s own path was paramount, whatever that path might be.
It had been that basic premise that had been the foundation of their success thus far. As word spread, more had come. They turned no one away, and as a result, had created a fiercely loyal family of sorts. Bait was not only a revenue producing endeavor; it was also a safe haven for those who had few options. Those who worked there not only received compensation in the form of fair wages; they were also provided with a place to live and a chance to pursue their dream, whatever that might be.
Spice, for example, not only handled Bait’s public relations, she was also taking classes at the local community college, working toward a degree in Management. And Sugar, who chose to continue as a courtesan, had just returned from a week-long seminar based on the Kama Sutra. Jay, as it turned out, was quite adept at information and digital technology, and had been instrumental in finding and acquiring everything they needed.
Despite the occasional challenges issued by men like Slick Rick and his ilk, things were going well. They had wealth, power, and the loyalty and respect of those around them. It wasn’t exactly the same as being a royal prince on his native planet, but it was close.
Tiberius had nearly everything he could ask for. The only thing he didn’t have was the chance to find his mate, someone with whom he could bond on both the physical and spiritual level and share his innermost thoughts. That was the true punishment of his exile—he would never know the completeness of finding the one person the universe had chosen specifically for him and him alone.
He sighed quietly. Perhaps it had never been meant to be.
Beside him, Quintus shifted, no doubt sensing his disquiet. Such a loyal, fierce friend. The only one who had stood by him.
In following him into exile, Quintus had also resigned himself to a half-life. Tiberius wondered if his friend had taken that into consideration when he had made the impulsive decision to jump into the portal with him.
Not that Quintus seemed to mind terribly. His friend, his brother in all but blood, had no trouble finding willing females to share his bed, but it wasn’t the same as having a mate. Even if Quintus hadn’t given the idea much thought beforehand, having the possibility taken away was disheartening.
“Shall we return? The human patrol will be on the water before long.”
Tiberius nodded. Discretion was crucial, and thus far, they had managed to elude the direct attention of the local authorities. For the most part, they remained in their opulent dwelling, venturing out only at night when necessary. Since they were primarily nocturnal, it suited them well.
He opened his mouth and called to the sea creatures, informing them of the new item that had just been added to their underwater buffet. By the time the local patrol arrived, there would be nothing left to find of the human trafficker Ricardo Marzione.
Chapter Five
“You’re not wearing that, are you?”
Ryan looked down at her dress and frowned. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Nothing ... if you’re going to a funeral.”
“Black is classic.”
“Black is boring. And I’ve seen nuns flash more cleavage.”
Ryan’s frown deepened. “Why would I want to flash my cleavage?”
Betty gaped at her in disbelief. “How are we even friends?”
“I often wonder that myself.”
“When was the last time you got some, anyway?”
Ryan didn’t answer right away. It had been a while.
Unlike Betty, who probably thought about sex more often than most men, Ryan was more interested in a relationship than a hook-up. Perhaps her views were considered old fashioned by many—Betty had actually used the word antediluvian—but if she was going to share her body with someone, she wanted it to mean something.
“I can’t help it if I have high standards.” Ryan sniffed defensively.
“Yes, you can. And your standards aren’t just high, they’re unrealistic. There’s not a man on this earth who can live up to them.” Betty’s voice softened. “Real guys aren’t like those golden-hearted alpha males you like to read about, Ry. There are no intergalactic princes scouring the universe, looking for their fated princesses. Just relax and have a little fun, okay?”
Could she help it if she was a romantic at heart? If she wanted a man who was both strong and protective, yet reasonable and supportive? Someone who would love her more than anything and never stray? A real, living, breathing soul mate?
She sighed. Betty was probably right. Guys like that didn’t exist, and if they did, they were so few and far between she could be wearing granny panties over her adult diapers before she found one.
Maybe it was time to face facts. She was a thirty-two-year-old police detective who eschewed traditionally feminine activities like cooking and shopping. She wasn’t adept at social niceties and had a tendency to speak plainly, bo
th of which put a lot of people off. She knew a dozen ways to effectively incapacitate and subdue a perp, and held the record for most accurate kill shots at the academy range for the last three years running. Unsurprisingly, most guys were threatened by that.
It would take a special man to embrace her for who and what she truly was, a special man who probably didn’t exist outside her romantic ideal drawn from the worlds of romantic fiction, sci-fi, and fantasy.
Maybe Betty had a point. Maybe, just for tonight, she could unclench a little and have some fun without thinking about tomorrow.
“All right,” she exhaled in surrender. “Tell me what to do.”
Betty’s eyes lit up. “Really?!?”
Ryan nodded, hoping she wouldn’t regret this, knowing she probably would. “Really. But only because it’s your birthday.”
Betty squealed then appraised Ryan with a critical eye. “Right. We’ve got a lot of work to do. Better skip the restaurant and order in.”
Two hours later, Ryan was seriously questioning the sanity of her plan.
“Stop scowling. You look gorgeous.”
“Fishnet stockings were designed by Satan. No rational human being would do this.”
Ryan didn’t care how sexy they were supposed to look; the damn things were a total pain in the ass to put on. After multiple attempts, several glasses of wine, and repeated chants of encouragement from Betty, she had finally managed to get the black threads up her legs without breaking any. It didn’t help that they reminded her of Jose and his crab entourage. Regardless, Betty insisted they were a necessary part of her transformation.
Ryan gave herself a critical once over in the full-length mirror. Transformation was too mild a word for what Betty had done. Gone was her sensible, classic black dress, replaced by a clingy blue swath of fabric that left nothing to the imagination.
On the plus side, no one would ever recognize her.
“I hope it’s not cold in there,” she muttered.
“Are you kidding?” Betty laughed. “Guys love nips. Combined with a nice set of boobs, they’re like instant and irresistible tractor beams, and honey, even Mr. Spock would want a piece of you.”
Ryan rolled her eyes at the old Star Trek reference. Like her, Betty was a closet sci-fi geek.
“Besides,” Betty continued, “that dress really brings out the turquoise in your eyes.”
Ryan had to admit, she did look pretty good. Seven years of Krav Maga a couple times a week had its benefits. Strong is the new skinny.
The dress molded to her curvy form, stretched over her ample breasts, clung to her less than flat belly, and accentuated her round hips. Sky-high stilettos made her curvy legs look a mile long. Her blonde hair had been brushed to a lustrous shine and extended halfway down her back. Which reminded her – she needed to schedule a trim soon. Since she normally wore her hair pulled back or in a bun, regular trips to the hair salon weren’t a priority.
Her face hadn’t been spared a makeover either. Betty had had a field day with that, proudly bringing out a small suitcase filled with powders, creams, lotions, and liners. As a result, Ryan’s skin was smooth and even, her lips full and red, and her unusual blue-green eyes outlined in dark kohl and framed in thick, inky lashes. It was a far cry from her usual quick swipe of mascara and lip gloss.
“Where am I supposed to carry my gun?” she asked.
Betty shook her head. “No gun. You’re officially off duty tonight.”
“But I feel naked without my gun.”
Betty smirked. “Well, you could always use your cooch as a hidey-hole.”
Ryan exhaled. “Right, no gun.” She could go one night without it, right? Besides, if it came down to it, she could handle herself.
“Thank you for this, Ry. I know it’s out of your comfort zone, but we’re going to have a great time tonight; you’ll see. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even find your prince.”
It was a nice thought, but Ryan wasn’t going to hold her breath.
“Hey, slow down there,” Ryan called out as Betty moved to the door quickly, anxious to be on their way.
Putting one foot in front of the other wasn’t something that typically required much thought, but walking in sky-high stilettos required significant concentration. Maybe that was why those glamorous types often appeared so bubble-headed, she mused. They were focusing too hard on trying not to break their necks to think of anything else.
On the plus side, the shoes would make fine weapons in a pinch.
Ryan offered up a silent prayer that she wouldn’t have to run for any reason and took a deep breath. This wasn’t about her; this was about Betty. As uncomfortable as she was dressed up like this, it was worth it to see the smile on Betty’s face. She was going to have a good time, even if it killed her.
And in these shoes, she thought miserably, it just might.
Chapter Six
Tiberius paced the length of his posh office, pausing only to glance at the screens displaying every floor, every room. All was well.
Bait was having another banner night. Beneath him, the pounding bass pulsated almost subliminally, a throbbing heartbeat to which humans danced, drank, and enjoyed one another amongst the undersea décor so reminiscent of his homeland. The marine theme provided a small measure of familiarity in a still unfamiliar world.
“Have you seen the night’s receipts?” Quintus asked, appearing in the doorway with a huge smile on his face. “Every time I think we cannot possibly surpass our intake, the humans prove me wrong. Veni, vidi, vici, indeed.”
Tiberius answered him with a grunt.
Quintus plopped down in the ergonomically designed, supple leather chair, his long, muscled limbs flowing over it in a very human-like pose. Unlike him, Quintus had taken to their new home like a fish to water and had had no difficulties immersing himself in the local culture.
“This does not please you?” Quintus asked.
“It pleases me.”
“I sense a however.”
“There is no however.”
Quintus sat up, a frown now creasing his features. “Now I know something is amiss. There is always a however with you.”
Tiberius felt slightly affronted. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Quintus clarified, “that you do not allow yourself to be happy. You have done well, my friend. Accept this. Enjoy it.”
Tiberius turned toward him. “We have done well, Quintus. And I do. I am.”
Quintus snorted inelegantly. “Yes, so I see. Is that why you continue to imprison yourself alone in your office when there is so much to experience and relish just beyond the threshold? These people are at your beck and call. They would do anything their beloved Shark asked of them and be happy for the privilege.”
The Shark. That was the name by which the humans referred to him. Sugar had told him it was because the animal was high up on the aquatic food chain, a ruthless predator and protector that instilled fear in the bottom feeders around him. What had begun as a term of teasing affection had become the name by which he was known to outsiders.
Quintus found it amusing. The humans, entertaining. Tiberius supposed that, in a way, it did demonstrate a measure of respect. And Quintus was right—he should be happy.
Yet, he wasn’t. For all intents and purposes, he had everything a male could want. So, how could he begin to explain the persistent uneasiness that had been growing within him over these last few months? This sense of impending fatum, what the humans called destiny, looming just beyond reach?
“I do not wish to appear malcontent. We have accomplished a great deal.”
“And yet it is not enough,” Quintus said softly, “because what you really desire is a princess with which to share it.”
That was one of the things Tiberius appreciated about his friend. Despite his enthusiasm for hedonistic pursuits, deep down, Quintus was exceedingly thoughtful and insightful. He would have made some fortunate female a good mate.
Once again, th
e heavy mantle of guilt weighing upon Tiberius’s broad shoulders grew heavier.
“Stop feeling guilty,” Quintus admonished him, as though reading his mind. “I made my choice. You did not make it for me. I am quite happy to partake of that which is so willingly offered. Unlike you, the thought of being shackled to a single female for eternity horrifies me.”
Tiberius smiled, but his heart remained heavy. This was a discussion they’d had often over the years, and each time, Quintus vehemently rejected the idea of a mate, insisting that such devotion and faithfulness was not in his nature. Tiberius believed that part of Quintus’s staunch anti-monogamous stance was rooted in his humble beginnings, and that deep down, Quintus didn’t see himself as worthy of such a gift. Tiberius would never insult him by saying so, however, and instead countered that it was only because he had not met the right female. Finding one’s destined mate changed everything.
“Do not forsake all hope, my friend,” Quintus continued. “You have only to look to our ancestors to know all is not lost.”
Tiberius raised his brows, causing Quintus to laugh.
“Ah, so you were not simply pretending to sleep during our mandatory intergalactic history lessons. No, my liege, we are not the first Aequorians to visit Earth, nor are you the first prince to be exiled here. The last was approximately three millennia ago and gave rise to what the humans refer to as Ancient Rome.”
A tiny spark of hope lit in his chest. “Verily?”
Quintus smirked. “I thought that, with all the hours you spend watching History Channel, this would not come as a surprise to you. Your namesake played quite a role in human history.”
It was true that Tiberius had developed a fondness for the network, eager to learn what he could about his new home and the people who inhabited it. He found the series theorizing the contributions of alien civilizations particularly interesting. Though most of the claims were ridiculous, sometimes the so-called experts managed to edge remarkably close to the truth. Once they moved beyond conjecture and discovered what was and was not real ... well, the universe wasn’t ready for that.
Close Encounters of the Sexy Kind: In the Stars Romance Page 3