by Rebel West
He approaches me until I can feel the warmth from his body, and looks into my eyes for a second that extended into several. It’s like he’s examining me, testing me. I meet his gaze without flinching. Then he nods. “I am very grateful for your presence. You are valuable to me, Dr. Taylor. That is why the NDA is so critical.”
“I see.” But I don’t; not really. Also, I find it hard to concentrate on his words when he’s this close. There’s something about his proximity that’s setting all of my nerve endings to a slow burn. Does he feel this, too? I’ve never felt this kind of instant attraction to anyone, let alone an alien!
“Tell the guards if you have anything in shuttle storage. They’ll have it scanned and brought to us at the palace. When you are ready, my team will escort you. I will talk with you later.” He looks me up and down, and I swear I see a flicker of male appreciation in his eyes before his expression goes neutral.
“I will. Thank you.” I take a deep breath.
“And Dr. Taylor?” He’s still so close. I learned that Luminarians stand closer than humans do, and I admit that when it comes to him, I like it. His chest rises and falls with his breaths, and the light sparkles in his eyes.
“Yes?” My body comes to attention as he leans over, the warmth from his body mingling with mine, sending tingles of arousal down my spine. His eyes, so blue, are fascinating. I want to run my finger over his lips, to touch the pulse in his neck.
“Thank you for coming to Luminar.” His voice is stiff, but his eyes are warmer than before. He bows, then strides to the wall and raises his wrist. The passage dissolves, showing a brief glimpse of the waiting guards and the warmly lit hall, before reassembling in a magic of snowy static.
* * *
“I’m Allik, Prince Lock’s advisor. I’ll escort you to the palace and to your quarters.” The alien in front of me is nearly as tall as Prince Lock, and muscular, like most of the males. But I don’t like the expression on his face, a calculating one, or the way he slides his eyes around the room.
I withhold a shudder. “Thank you.”
“This way.” Allik gestures down a corridor. It glows with a dim silver light, and it’s made of the same material I touched earlier. I like the way it feels to walk, like I’m on a bouncy trampoline path, even though I have to breathe harder than usual. It reminds me of the first time I raced on an air-hover running track in college.
One of the guards with us barks a command and a door slides open to reveal a vast lot. As large as an Earth airport, it hosts dozens of aircraft and groundcraft of various sizes and shapes parked in marked out areas.
The sky glows, a gorgeous light lavender, and the scent of something citrusy clings to the air. The lot bustles with activity—teams of workers buzz around the larger craft in small hoverpods, doing maintenance and filling fuel. Others walk on the ground, chatting. As I stare, a clear egg-shaped drone full of metal gears rushes past with a whir, executes a graceful arc around the side of a large sleek aircraft, and docks into a port on the side of a hoverpod. Immediately, the glass windows of the drone and the hoverpod open, and a silver hand reaches out and grabs one of the silver gears.
“This way, please, Dr. Taylor.” Allik points to the closest craft. It is unmarked but clearly of high quality; I’m no expert but the gleam of the soft exterior, the sexiness of the curves, the colors—this is not your random basic craft.
“Please.” Allik gestures. “Step aboard and sit down in the blue chair to your left. It will buckle automatically. We will arrive at the palace in ten segs.” At my dubious expression, he adds, “It is entirely safe, I promise you. Many humans have traveled in these, and do, daily.”
“Okay.” I nod and sit down, nerves buzzing. The chair is luxurious; better than a first-class seat on a private jet on Earth. The cluster of chairs is in an array, and large windows show the world outside. When the pilot lifts off—or autopilot, I don’t know which—the craft goes straight up, maneuvers through the large lot, then joins the flow of other craft in the sky. I hold my breath, but everything interacts seamlessly, like gears, without issues or collisions.
“Can they see us?” I point out my window, and glance at Allik.
Chapter Five
Allik frowns, tilts his head, then answers, “No. Our windows are blocked. We can see out; they can’t see in.”
Many craft must have the same, because their windows are a shiny soft silver, while others are transparent, allowing a glimpse of riders within. There are a mom and two kids—on the way to school? A single man, talking to himself, probably on a call. A woman, head bent down, reading a tablet, brow furrowed. My heart quickens. These are aliens! All of them! Living lives not unlike mine, really. Except none of them are on a secret project far from home, or have already been scolded by a sexy prince. I shiver.
“Are you cold?” Allik’s eyes, dark and lidded, don’t blink.
“No.” I don’t elaborate, and he examines my face for a moment, then nods and turns away.
The capital city is large. Thore. The name itself is exotic. In this distance, spires and towers of metal, glass, and glowing composite materials touch the clouds, a determined army of ladders to the purple heavens. Some are connected by passageways and walkways, and it seems that there are several discrete flying levels for craft in the city, although I can’t determine who gets to fly in which strata and how you know where to go.
We’re moving away from the center toward a rolling countryside with smaller clusters of buildings. “Is that—Greek architecture?” I turn to Allik, startled, as I recognize Ionic and Doric columns. How can it be? Then I remember that they took humans, one time, and have been monitoring our culture. Still, it’s jarring to see this here, in a place lightyears away from the Hellespont, a place where Homer never set foot, let alone dreamed.
“Yes.” His voice is curt. He doesn’t explain more, and even though I didn’t ask, I roll my eyes. Then I smile. It’s fascinating that the aliens are so like humans in terms of personality trait—although what would they call it? Luminariancity? I stifle a chuckle.
Now I see what must obviously be the palace, although from the distance it appears like a metropolis of its own: hovercraft, multiple buildings, some new style, some ancient. Hills, purple Huilli trees, the size of redwoods but purple and lacey, a lake, silver! The grass—silver and lavender! The Makko trees, with their green, red, and yellow swirls. More buildings. An airport of sorts. Our craft hovers a blinking light on a landing pad and lowers, touching so softly I don’t feel the contact.
“Now,” Allik says. “We are here.” He gestures. “Welcome to the Royal Palace of His Crown Prince, Maxxon.” He watches me, alert. “His Highness Lock has requested that I take you to your chambers, which should be quite comfortable. You may relax and then he will meet you there to start your debrief about the project.”
My chair unbuckles, and I stand, glancing around. The next few minutes are a blur—a smaller hoverpod meets us, and Allik ushers me aboard. After we’re seated, the craft darts straight through a portion of the palace wall that dissolves just as we touch. The hallway inside is wide enough for the craft and pedestrians, and it’s luxurious in a way that screams of wealth; the colors and textures, although unfamiliar to me, feel rich and warm.
“This is the guest wing,” Allik explains. “Each guest has their own pod for transport around the palace. Your pod will be programmed with the places you are allowed to go alone. However, if you wish to walk around, you must wait for an escort.”
“So I’m a prisoner?” My voice rises as I stare at the pod that is now mine, and the door to my chambers.
Allik’s mouth twists, and he smiles. “You are a valued guest of the prince, and your safety is of the utmost importance to us. You will be provided an escort at all times.” Despite the smile, the chill in his eyes makes me shiver, later, after he summons his own pod and whisks away down the winding hall.
* * *
I barely have time to explore my chambers—a sort of sitt
ing room, with low, modular furniture. A bedroom with a large, soft bed, dressed with the softest fabrics, in colors of silver and blue. One of the fancy alien toilets I learned about in the info packet. A regular water shower and their SunShower station, a light bath that remove dirt and provides decontamination without liquid. It’s ideal for the pigment of Luminarian skin, and humans are warned not to use it for longer than fifteen seconds or risk a sunburn. I don’t plan to use it at all.
I wander out to my front room, where a vast curved sheet of glass highlights a breathtaking view of the rolling hills and tree line. Below me, there is foot traffic between high-tech buildings, and multiple craft dart around.
It’s day now, the sky is a beautiful shade of lavender and everything shimmers; somehow, the light here sparkles more than on Earth. It’s lovely.
A chime at my door sounds, then a knock. “Dr. Taylor.” It isn’t a question.
“Yes? Come in.” My heart races, eager to see the prince.
The door slides open, and there he is—Lock. I suck in my breath and stand up, hands clammy. My gaze shoots to Lock’s hands—large, wider, broader, and stronger than human hands. I flush and force myself to look at his eyes.
He smirks and I flush, put a hand to my cheek. “Your Highness? I don’t know what to call you.”
“Citizens and visitors call me Prince Lock. I will call you Dr. Taylor.”
“You can call me Cali.” I’m confident enough in myself and my skills that I don’t need to insist on being called doctor; in fact, I prefer a personal touch.
“When we are alone,” he says, his voice low. “Perhaps. Overall, it’s best for me to refer to you by your title. Showcase the fact that humans are here to play important roles to other Luminarians.”
I nod, remembering the rebels and the politics here. I won’t argue with his logic. “What’s the plan?” I ask, opting not to waste any time. “You said I was very valuable to you. So why am I here?”
The prince doesn’t answer for a minute, but regards me evenly. “That,” he says finally, “is something I’ve been asking myself all night.”
I open my mouth to contest this cryptic comment, but hold my tongue at the expression on his face.
“And to answer you, which I certainly will, is going to take some time. We will start with a tour.”
I’d expected anything but this. “A tour?” I tilt my head.
He takes a step closer. “Of the palace grounds, for a start, and a quick summary of how our kingdom operates. Are you ready?” He watches me the whole time he talks, as if he’s trying to assess me from more than my words; as if he could glean my very personality and soul from my stance, my expressions, my movements. His gaze, unlike Allik’s, is warm and probing, and I feel a frisson of arousal spike in my body.
“Yes. I’d love a tour.” He is just close enough so that the heat from his arm and his chest makes it hard to focus on his words.
He smiles. “And this time I promise not to have my guards extract you from the premises in such a curt fashion.”
“That’s a relief,” I say, raising my eyebrows just a bit. “This is nice.” I gesture at my quarters. “Much nicer than the EVTS.”
“Your comfort is our utmost priority.” His voice is low, and something in his growl makes me think about other kinds of comfort, more personal ones, and my cheeks get hot... again.
“Except I don’t know how to use the SunShower,” I babble, trying to compose myself. “I mean, can you go in with all your clothes on, does it matter, because sun rays can get through fabric, right? But I know it’s not safe for humans to use for longer than a short time so I probably won’t even go in there…”
He steps a bare centimeter closer. “It’s customary, yes, to remove all garments, Dr. Taylor, before entering the SunShower. It works best on bare skin.” His eyes meet mine, and his mouth twitches.
I suck in a breath, thinking about how he’d look naked. “Oh, that makes sense.”
“The one in your quarters has been adjusted to the correct wavelength of light for your human skin, so you don’t have to worry about damage. The machines themselves, even the unadjusted ones, have an auto-off feature because they constantly monitor the skin via sensors.”
“I see. That’s really cool.” I clear my throat. “Will we see—the animals on the video?”
“I’m not familiar with the video you mean. What animals?”
“Zebb?” I try out the word in Luminarian. “And pa’aat? And maybe… the house cat thing, the, what is it, the semi?”
He laughs, and something in his face lightens for a second, and the beauty of his features floors me.
“My brother has a whole host of the damned things. Yes, you’ll get to see semis. You’ll probably wish you hadn’t, though. They’re the most annoying creature on the planet.” He extends his arm. “Come, please.”
I hesitate, unsure. “I should—” I hover my hand above his arm, “hold you?” Am I blushing again?
“Please.” He nods, so I reach out and place my finger onto his forearm. God, that hard corded muscle! He’s without a shirt and I have to force my eyes not to linger on his chest.
“Is this how people always walk together?” I scurry a bit to keep up with his long-legged pace. “I didn’t have to hold onto Allik.”
“It’s how you will walk with me. It’s a sign that you are under my, shall we say, protection.”
“I would have assumed that everyone in this kingdom is automatically under your protection, except maybe your brother. Do all of them have to hold your arm every day? That must be a little awkward, especially when someone needs the restroom. Just saying.” The words spill out before I can stop myself. “Sorry.”
He stops and looks down at me. “Sorry? That’s what you have to say?”
“Joke. It was a joke.” I bite my lip. I miss my bestie a little too much. What was I thinking, treating a prince of Luminar like a coffee buddy back home on Earth?
“A what?” He tilts his head and meets my gaze, questioning.
“What?” I’m confused. “You have those here, right?”
He stops walking and looks at me quizzically. “A—what is it called. Joke?”
“Yes, you know, like a funny thing to say. To make you laugh on purpose. A joke.” My stomach is a lump of stone. Did I insult him?
“No. We do not have such a thing in our social network.”
I step back. “Are you serious?”
He grins at me. “Got you.”
“Excuse me?”
He bursts into laughter. “Yes, we have jokes on this planet, Dr. Taylor. Humor is interwoven into our lives, as it is into yours. Our societies have that in common. I was teasing you.”
“Oh. Oh!”
“And as for that, we allow an open press and freedom of speech in our kingdom. I would like us to have a comfortable relationship. On Earth, I understand that humor is often a bridge to intimacy.”
“Comfortable is good.” I flush at his use of the word intimacy, which is not incorrect. It’s just that my body is ridiculously primed to respond to him already, and when I flash images of what said intimacy might look like, it makes me want things I shouldn’t be thinking.
“But I do not joke about matters that pertain to the monarchy. Or to your visit.” His voice, serious again, is deep and strong. “I just couldn’t resist that opportunity. Now shall we, please?” He holds out his arm once again, and I take it, this time slightly more comfortable holding him and walking beside his strong figure.
Chapter Six
He ushers me to the hovercraft parked outside my door, and when we are both seated, he says some commands I don’t understand; my translator chip must not be programmed with these words. The craft begins to move and the wall dissolves to allow access to the outside world.
“This,” he points to the left, as we whisk past a tall building on the campus, “is Thore’s top Research and Development lab in the areas of genetics and neuroscience.”
“Neur
oscience, my specialty. You know, we still need to talk about exactly why I—”
“And this,” he cuts me off, “is the Foundation for Advanced Design and Programming.”
“Okay, but...”
“And this is our renowned Center for Language Studies.”
I give up on questions for now and decide to just enjoy the tour. “And you have doctors and researchers who work here every day?”
“There are thousands of Luminarians who come to this campus every sun to work.”
“Sun, right, that’s what I meant. We call it a day, though.” I peer to my left, stunned at the waterfall in the middle of a busy plaza, surrounded by dozens of silver aliens talking, gesturing, walking.
“I know. This,” he points to the right, as the craft curves along a bend, “is the animal research facility, and here you can see—”
“Zebb!” I can’t resist calling out, staring at a field that contains a herd of animals. “From the video. Zebb! Please, can we stop? Oh, please?”
“You want to stop and see the zebb?”
“Well, I want to pet one. Can I touch one?” My voice sounds childishly eager to me, but he smiles and his face softens. “We can take a few seccs. Yes.”
He barks more commands that I don’t understand and the craft lowers to the purple grass.
I’ve never been more eager to get out of any airplane in my life, and when he opens my door, I hurry down the small stairway that automatically extends, and kneel down, touching the grass, exclaiming at its soft, fine texture, bending down to smell it.
“Shi,” I whisper. “I know that word. Grass.”
When I look up, Lock is standing with his legs spread, arms crossed, and the way his muscles bulge makes me forget all about the grass. He’s watching me with a strange expression on his face, contemplative.
I realized I’m kneeling in front of him in a way that must look very provocative. That is, if aliens even do that. Do they have blowjobs on this planet? I frown, trying to think if I’ve ever read anything about their sex lives, but I haven’t...