Science Fiction Romance: Biomechanical Hearts (Space Sci-Fi Love Triangle) (New Adult Paranormal Fantasy)

by Olivia Myers

  "Seriously? Okay, well, it's your vacation. As long as you're having a good time."

  "Right."

  But Moona didn't leave it at that. She lifted her eyebrows. "So tell me, now you've experienced a little of what New Saigon has to offer. What do you think of it all, really?"

  Natalie opened her mouth. Closed it. How to say what she was thinking?

  The hotel is overwhelming. The glittering gold and jewels hurt my eyes. The staff is too sly and suggestive. The whole place smells like a perfume swamp and my nostrils are numb. My swimsuit pinches and the treated water's cloying on my skin.

  And I don't think I'm a bigot, but all these people from all these different planets are so strange. The males are the hardest to get used to. They're loud. They stare. They flirt. And yes, they turn me on. How can I stand there while a hunk of an alien sizes me up and not feel my nipples get hard and my sex get tight? But it's not a fun feeling—just a biological reaction.

  This isn't a vacation. It's a gauntlet. And I don't think I'm up to the challenge. Help! I want to go home....

  But all she said was, "It's different. Um, are you sure you want to go out again? I mean, we've already hit the pool and the ballroom and two restaurants and, well...I'm pretty beat. We've got—what—ten more days here? Plenty of time to...to fly loose and fast. Or however they say it."

  "Are you kidding? New Saigon never sleeps. Why should we? Come on, girl! Let's go grab us some interplanetary tushie!"

  ***

  Three days later, Natalie's slim, almost boyish frame lay sprawled out unconsciously on the bed, her short-cropped black hair a sleek array around her innocent-looking face. Jackie and Moona stared down at her, frowning.

  "She's wiped out," Moona said. "Do you think she's had any fun at all?"

  Jackie shook her head. "I can't believe she hasn't hooked up once. We've taken her to all the beaches. Introduced her to how many men?"

  "Yes, and she barely said a word to any of them. She just closes up and gives 'em that polite "What-week-would-you-like-me-to-book-for-you" smile. I really thought the pleasure spa would do it. She wouldn't even go in the sauna. But I think she liked getting the massage by that Umwan nerve doctor. Did you see her all languid when she came out afterward?"

  "Yes, but look at her now."

  Moona felt bad for her. Natalie was such a provincial; maybe they'd made a mistake hauling her so far out of her comfort zone to New Saigon. Jackie thought she was hopeless, but Moona wasn't convinced. There was a fun-loving core to Natalie. Their coworker just had to learn how to access it.

  Moona began to pace. "The problem is that shyness of hers. What if we tried....no, what if we went—wait! I have it! This place has an escort service, don't they?"

  Jackie smirked. "Sure. It's the one they use in all the hotels around here. Hot, very hot, men. But are you serious? An escort—for Natalie?"

  "We'll pick out someone she can't resist. Someone perfect for her, who'll force her to relax."

  A sleepy voice came from Natalie’s bed. "What are you guys talking about?"

  Guiltily, Moona and Jackie exchanged looks. "Um...."

  Natalie sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Did I hear you say something about an escort service? You must have left your brain cells behind in the spa. You might enjoy going out every night with a different man. I'm glad you two are having fun. But I'm not going out with any escort. That's just blurky."

  Moona giggled and tapped on her handset. "Nothing blurky about it, child. We're in New Saigon. It's all about feeling good. The people here want to make you feel good. Why not go with it?"

  "They don't want to make me feel good. Escorts are just doing their job. That's not really romantic for anyone, is it?"

  Jackie rolled her eyes. "You think they have to work here? There are plenty of other places to work. Escorts love their job. Everyone loves working here. Get out of your provincial mindset, will you? Pleassssure." She drew out the word huskily.

  Natalie’s handset chimed and a link popped up, the holograph twirling.

  "There you go," Moona said. "Look through that. And," she added firmly, "you're not stopping until you've picked out someone good and tasty."

  "That's an order," Jackie added.

  ***

  An hour later...

  "I guess that guy looks okay. Shawn."

  "He's a Resstessan. You sure you’re okay with that? I mean, he has scales and he's kind of green."

  "But a nice green," Natalie said firmly. Then she squinted. "Although his eyes are sort of insipid. I'm not sure..."

  Moona swished her hand in the air and the image shifted. "Here—this one. You keep coming back to this one."

  "Him?" Natalie stared at the man's image. Narrow eyes. Dark brown skin. Silver hair. Angular face, especially the jaw and nose. Thick, arched brows. Too muscular. Lots of hair—almost furry on his chest and even his arms. He wore casual pants, a lot like the ones Natalie preferred. "He's a Katarian."

  "Well, obviously. What's wrong with Katarians? They're totally humanoid, so you should feel comfortable. The ones I've met have been quite gallant. Almost old-fashioned."

  "Those eyes are not humanoid."

  "What's wrong with orange eyes? I think this one is sexy. What's his name? Kirk. Look at those lashes."

  Natalie swallowed. "Didn't you tell me Katarians are very aggressive? That they don't take no for an answer?"

  "It was Jackie who said that. She exaggerates," Moona assured her.

  "'Katarians eat, breathe, and sleep sex,'" Natalie quoted. "I heard her. Even if she was exaggerating, even if they only half lived for sex, that's a bit much for a person like me, isn't it? And his eyes are gold, not orange. I don't like him."

  "Now, Natalie, you really need to—"

  "No, it'll have to be Shawn. He looks harmless." And at Moona's glare, "I mean it. He looks nice and sweet. I don't like men who are too...."

  "Man-like?"

  Natalie nodded, blushing.

  "Well, then, what about a woman?"

  Natalie's jaw dropped. She chuckled. "Point taken. I do like men, Moona. Just not—" she glanced back at Kirk, the Katarian, and shivered. "Just not men like that one."

  ***

  Natalie showered before her date with the escort. As with everything here in New Saigon, it was no ordinary experience. Like everything else, the shower was scented, though by now Natalie's overstimulated nose couldn't even distinguish how it smelled different from the room or even the rest of the hotel. But the penetrating heat felt good on her skin and the swirling lights in the dark, steamy room danced about. The water seemed to come from a holo of a waterfall and made barely any sound above the ambient music, something lilting and exotic.

  This place seemed determined to relax her.

  Well, tonight she'd give it her best try. If it took every bit of self-control she had, she was going to have a good time. For once. It was only fair to Moona and Jackie, who'd gone to the trouble of arranging all this. And surely they were right that it would be good for her.

  Her friends had gone to a new pleasure palace and warned Natalie they might not be back at all that night. A bit sadly, Natalie had watched them go, Moona swaying out of the room completely topless, Jackie covered chin to ankles, but with a form-fitting bodysuit masquerading as skin. Neither wore anything on their feet. Naked toes and chests seemed to be a thing here, for both men and women. Not that she could ever bring herself to dress—or, more accurately, undress—like that.

  She padded naked out of the shower and began rummaging in the closet, biting her lip. Not that dress—too revealing. And that one—too frumpy. Too revealing, too revealing, too revealing. Didn't she have anything suitable for a platonic date?

  She decided on a simple white dress. It was a bit form-fitting and made of some shiny fabric that was fancier than she remembered in the store, but it had a high, modest neckline. Unfortunately, it left her arms bare, which always made her feel vulnerable. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned,
because her face looked too pale and her short hair too black. Her skinny body had never had many curves, but no dress could change that.

  Make-up. She hated wearing make-up and never bothered with it at work. She would not wear the stuff tonight. The last thing she needed was that uncomfortable sticky feeling on her face. She was already uncomfortable enough.

  Still, she needed something. Surely it was bad form to meet an escort, even a hired one, in stark black and white.

  She'd only brought one piece of jewelry with her, a simple gold chain necklace her father had given her when she was a girl. It hit in the wrong place, skimming the neckline of her dress. Oh, well. It would have to do.

  Moona had arranged for her to meet her escort at a pleasure tavern just twenty minutes away from the hotel. Pleasure tavern. Pleasure waterpool. Pleasure restaurant. What she wouldn't give for a regular, non-pleasure anything....

  The walk at least felt pleasant. All around her, people, lights, and buildings sparkled. Moona had been right; this was a safe city, though it could hardly compare to her own hometown, which she never stopped missing...

  Hesitating only a moment, she made herself take a deep breath and then entered the softly lit establishment. The air was breezy inside, moved by invisible floating airfans. The scents of spices and flowers drifted by. Sinuous dancers swayed to gently throbbing music. Everyone looked beautiful. Everyone had a drink in hand. Everyone looked happy.

  This was going to be awful.

  No. Stop that, she chided herself. She was going to have fun. Otherwise, what was the point?

  She strode up to the bar, took a seat, and unobtrusively scanned the room. Shawn was a Resstessan, and so he'd be tall enough to stand out in the crowd. No sign of him. After a few minutes, she checked the time. Still early.

  Waiting got harder.

  And harder.

  A few minutes later, sipping a glass of water, she glanced up as a shadow fell over her.

  "Natalie?"

  The voice was male, pleasingly deep and throaty, and spoke with an accent, as so many voices in New Saigon did. She looked up with a shy smile—and froze.

  The man looking down at her was tall, but he was no Resstessan. He had a wide, extremely muscular chest coated with a heavy silver layer of hair, the same silver as the hair on his head, and a dark golden brown skin. And golden-orange eyes.

  She knew those eyes.

  Her own eyes widened.

  "Are you Natalie?" he prompted, this time with a faint note of impatience.

  She swallowed. "There's been a mistake. You're Katarian."

  He smiled with his eyes, though she thought there was something wrong with that smile. "Mistake?" he said pleasantly.

  "My name is Natalie, but I'm waiting for someone else. A Resstessan man named Shawn."

  His expression tightened. She thought she wouldn't even have noticed it if she hadn't been studying him so hard. The sharp angles of his face were pulled into relief. "Yours was the image I was sent. I'm here as an escort for Natalie Hicklepat. That's you. There's been no mistake."

  Behind her amiable mask, one thought reverberated through her mind. Those fiends. Moona and Jackie...I'm going to kill you.

  They'd gone behind her back and changed her escort to the very one she had been determined to avoid.

  She felt the blood rushing to her face as shock, embarrassment, and sudden, acute arousal bloomed within her. The man whose image she had openly lusted after and rejected so many times back in the hotel suite was standing right here.

  This was not good.

  "I'm Kirk." He held out a hand. The silvery fur coating his arm only emphasized its youthful, muscular form. He was close enough that she could feel his bodily warmth. If only his chest weren't right there in front of her face. How could it be legal for a man to just walk around half-naked like that?

  She swallowed. "I see. Kirk—nice to meet you. I'm sorry, there seems to have been a mix-up. My friends. They made the date for me. It was supposed to be someone who...but they got you instead..."

  He stiffened and his face changed in comprehension. "You wanted another escort. But you got me. I see."

  "No, no, I don't mean—it's not like that. Hmm. Well, okay, I guess it was like that. Yes. I did want someone else for this date." Anyone else.

  He looked at her face, studied it for a minute, while she sat there stiffly, her hand locked around her glass. Then his gaze wandered unhurriedly downward, pausing at her necklace, moving slowly down her bare arms and her modestly covered chest, lingering briefly on the two small bumps of her breasts, down her belly and legs, to her feet, encased in her comfortable walking boots.

  Then back up, taking the same route again, just as slowly, ending at her eyes.

  "You shouldn't bite your lip like that," he said.

  She realized she'd been holding her breath. She let it out with a shudder. Oh, this was bad. The silky material of her dress managed to hurt her nipples where they stabbed into it. And deep inside, things were going on that were making it hard to remember anything.

  "So your friends made a mistake and ordered me instead of another main course for your delectation tonight. You have two choices, sweetling. I've been hired as your escort. You can use my services for the night, for—" he glanced at a time display. "Six more hours. I'm paid for and reserved. Or, you can turn around and go home. Pick one."

  Pick one. Right. Of course. Her hand flew to her throat. "Thank you. Those are very clear choices. Yes. Okay. Yes. Well, I guess....hmm."

  "Difficult choice? Don't linger on my behalf," he said ironically. "I get paid whatever you decide."

  She drew in a sharp breath. "Oh. Of course. Of course." She went hot, then cold, then hot again. "I'm sorry. Yes, of course you wouldn't want me to...."

  This was worse than awful. It was a disaster.

  She spoke disjointedly. "They said everyone here just likes to spread pleasure around. Pleasure everywhere in New Saigon. Everyone takes it for granted. That escorts didn't have to work here if they didn't want to. I knew that was nonsense. I mean, I've never been here before, but who would want to spend their lives giving pleasure to strangers? And then to get me—"

  She stood up quickly, dropping her glass. It crashed to the floor. She stared at it, appalled, then bent down to clean up the mess. As she was grabbing some napkins, an unobtrusive staff member was already discreetly disposing of the broken glass and mopping up the water. She watched the aproned man silently do his job and leave.

  She should go, too. This was a new low. To end up with an escort—this escort—this blatantly sexual Katarian who clearly didn't like a thing about her and didn't bother to hide it—was far worse than even she had imagined.

  Blinking rapidly, she peeked at his frowning expression. He seemed arrested on her face. Probably dismayed, she thought, to have landed such a klutzy, boring client in the middle of this pleasure bar, filled with beautiful people and beautiful faces and everyone drinking and happy and relaxed....

  Tears stinging her eyes, she quickly moved in the direction she thought the door must be. She'd only taken a few steps when she was jerked back.

  "Watch where you're going," Kirk's voice said. "If you're going to make a run for it, at least look out for obstacles."

  His hand was gripping her arm too hard for her to move. She stopped. Nodded without looking at him.

  "Natalie. Wait."

  That hand on her arm burned where his thumb stroked her skin. His grip was strong, but not too tight, and it sent shivers up her flesh, straight to her nipples, and zinging to her loins.

  "Don't go. You just saw me do something I really shouldn't have."

  She was startled into looking up at him.

  "I've been doing this for a long time now. Perhaps too long. You caught me in a moment where...look, I'll tell you, but not right now. First, why don't we sit down? Not here at the bar. Let's take a table."

  Dazed, she let herself be smoothly guided to a seat. Sat down. Watched him as he sa
t down across from her, so close to her with only the tiny table between them that their knees touched. She jerked away purely in self-protection. Any contact with this man was dangerous.

  "What do you want to drink?"

  "Nothing. Just what I had before. Water."

  His eyes widened. "Water?"

  "Yes, I don't hold my liquor well."

  "Have you had any liquor here in New Saigon? It's not as toxic as some off-planet brews."

  "No, but I don't want to try it. Thank you very much," she said politely.

  He nodded. His eye caught a server's, he made some hand signals, and Natalie watched as a small glass was set down next to Kirk and a tall glass of water in front of her.

  There was silence for a few minutes. She bit her lip, glanced around, fidgeted.

  "When I saw your image, I thought you were just another stressed client," he said abruptly.

  She jumped. "Oh? Ah. Stressed client. Stressed tourist. Yes, that's me."

  "I get a lot of bored women. Ladies who need help unwinding. That's what we're here for, in New Saigon. Helping tourists unwind and rel—"

  "—relax," Natalie finished. "I know. I know. Everyone tells me I need to relax. I'm trying. As hard as I can."

  He smiled slightly. "Right. Well, then I met you. And something happened that rarely does happen, unfortunately." He paused. "You're familiar with my race, I assume?"

  At the question, everything she knew about his kind flooded her thoughts. "Yes. I think so."

  "In what way?" he probed.

  "I've heard of Katarians. My friends told me. You...your people...your species...I mean, you like...you like to...."

  He leaned forward. "We like sex," he said bluntly. "Everyone does, of course, don't they? But we're different. We don't hide it. We don't suppress it. We don't marginalize it. We have no reason to. It's central for us. And our bodies have evolved with an amped-up sex drive. We find the act of sex an advantage in many situations where it would be a disadvantage for others."