Razer finished his drink and signaled the Sagoran for another. She swung by, dropping his drink with a flutter of eye lashes even as she rushed away. He admired her well-shaped backside imagining what it’d look like bare under his hands as he took her from behind. Someone jostled his chair. The club was getting overcrowded now, especially near the stage. A set of male dancers entered above and proceeded to entertain the swelling crowd with a wild, thumping and humping act that had the female members of the audience screaming and hooting. Razer grinned. He’d be doing a little thumping and humping himself shortly. Exactly what he needed to shake the dis-ease lingering in his system.
Working a job on Kadis, his father’s home planet, had been too risky in hindsight. Just as Razer was taking off with the prize in his grasp—a cache of rare medicines needed to counteract the hypnotic drugs used by the slavers—a government agent, another psychic, detected him. Razer had only escaped by drawing on his more practical skills with the laser gun, leaving that agent dead.
Razer took a large gulp from his glass, letting the harsh liquor burn down his throat. He wasn’t used to death, even though it wasn’t uncommon around the kind of work they were doing. Either kill or be killed. Though he liked the intellectual aspect of scamming and conning people, and sticking it to the Alliance, after a year of this work, he still hadn’t learned to shut off the emotional feedback on the violence that sometimes accompanied a mission. A little meaningless sex with the server and a few drinks would take care of that pesky thing called emotions. Then he’d be as cold and ruthless as he needed to be again.
A crescendo of trumpets signaled the end of the male revue. Darkness shrouded the stage, the music shifted into a slow, seductive tempo and a single beam of light shone onto the center of the platform. The crowded room hushed in anticipation of the upcoming act. Razer scanned the electronic show card propped on his table. After the male revue, a female stripper named Butterfly was scheduled. A good one, apparently from the rapt regard of the other customers.
He turned his attention forward and watched a figure step into the center of the single spotlight. She was covered shoulders to toes by a long red cape; and a large feathered masked hid the entire upper portion of her face, leaving only her lush lips and curved chin exposed. Her hair looked dark, curly and hung down in luxurious, shiny waves over her shoulders, falling nearly to her waist. The music ebbed away.
Even though he couldn’t see any details about her face or body, Razer felt his heart kick up a beat and he unconsciously sat up straight in his chair. Something in him awoke on the cellular level.
Slowly, the dancer reached up, and pulling on the strings tied at her neck, loosened the cape. The fabric parted and she shrugged it off her shoulders where it disappeared behind into the darkness. Then she stepped into the center of the light as it widened and the music started up again, a haunting delicate melody over a pulsing beat that triggered a further corresponding reaction in his body, and the deep intuitive suspicion that she belonged with him.
She was all woman, voluptuous curves and lean lines. She wore a dress of floating sheer layers in a rainbow of colors—collectively, they covered her completely while hinting at golden skin underneath. He thought she was tall, but then realized she was wearing some kind of stacked shoes that added at least four or five measures to her height. In response to the music, she began to dance, first with her shoulders, and then her hips, then her arms, wrists, hands and fingers, her legs, her ankles, and even her feet. Razer had never seen anyone move with more elegance, more sensuality. Her movements put into his mind the flowing of a river, the blooming of a flower, the glow of a moon.
The beam of light shining down on the stage grew larger and the dancer expanded her movements, adding steps, dips and twirls. The top layer of her dress released and floated away into the dark beyond the lit circle. Then another layer glided out of sight. Razer felt a strange hunger to see the next and the next layer go. He realized he was holding his breath and that he was hard with sexual anticipation. Glancing around the room, he saw that he wasn’t the only one hypnotized by the dancer’s movements. He frowned, realizing he didn’t like them watching her; when he looked back, her arms and legs were completely bare.
He watched, caught in the magic of her movement, and saw another layer of her costume, then another, float away, like petals fluttering and falling from a ripe, full-bloomed racia. How many layers were there? Her stomach was bare now, revealing a toned abdomen, with gentle lines of muscle rolling with each undulating move of her hips. As he stared, captivated, the dancer moved closer toward the audience, the light tracking her.
She let another layer go and it drifted down from the stage and landed over a man sitting several tables away from Razer. It was easy now to see the glint of the soft skin and darker nipples of her loose breasts under the shimmery fabric of the scarves. She twirled away from him to the far side of the stage and two more layers swirled down into the audience. Only a few sheer layers hid her bare breasts now. Even in the low lighting, he could see the deeper color of her areolas through the fine gauze. Razer wanted her to come to him. He willed it, probed to read her mind and got…nothing.
Nonetheless, she danced back towards his side of the stage, her body rolling, rocking, bringing to his mind the rhythm of sex and bodies in concert with each other. Then she was right above Razer, and down to the last layer of sheer fabric. She looked his way and they made eye contact, a zap of lightning. She stumbled ever so slightly on her ridiculously high shoes, then, holding his gaze with a look of curiosity, she released the last scarf on her chest and it floated down to land over his face. He nearly came in his leathers. Holy fuck. Dragging the scarf from his face, he panted at the sight of the most perfect set of tits he’d ever laid eyes on. He licked his lips, imagining what she’d taste like.
She trembled above him, wearing only a tiny patch of silk over her sex, looking surprised and equally fascinated by him, her oiled pale skin glowing rich and smooth under the bright light. Then the spotlight snapped out, the music died away and the room went completely dark. The audience erupted into cheering and clapping. Razer rose, about to leap onto the stage, but two large bouncers moved into position between him and the dark space where she’d been last standing.
Three
Ayanna scrambled to gather her costume on the darkened stage so she could escape before the lights came up to announce the next act, a set of identical twin brother gymnasts. She felt breathless and unsettled. Usually, she never made direct eye contact with the audience members, but something had compelled her to look down into a stranger’s eyes at the end of her dance, and the connection, some kind of recognition, some kind of familiarity, had upset her focus, her balance. When she danced, or rather, when she stripped, she always put herself into a trance-like fantasy state in which she was dancing privately for one man, her yet-to-be discovered soul mate. She’d constructed the fantasy after the first time she stripped and felt so exposed and debauched that she’d hurled up her last meal the second she got off stage.
The majority of her costume recovered and her cape covering her nudity, she slipped backstage and into her private dressing area. She sat with a thud and held her hands out in front of her. They were shaking. In the mirror, her eyes were huge, her eyes dilated.
Rustling at her curtain alerted her someone was outside her space.
“Butterfly? You okay? You looked freaked out at the end of your set?”
Max. Always there, always checking on her, making sure she was safe and secure.
“I’m…I’m fine.” She forced a laugh. “Almost twisted my ankle on these new platform shoes, that’s all. Gave me a start. I can’t afford to break an ankle right now.”
“Aw…babe…I’ll take care of you no matter what. You know that. I’ve got credits saved. Just say the word. I wished you’d stop stripping—,” Max cut himself off. He knew she didn’t like when he talked about saving her from her job.
Ayanna bit her tongue against rem
inding him of what he already knew. She wasn’t sure what to do about Max. As her only trusted friend on the ship, the big bouncer was the one person making her feel safe at the club, but she also knew he wanted to be more than her professional protector. Though she held a deep affection for the giant, she didn’t feel anything beyond platonic love towards the young guardian. Certainly not the humming awareness she experienced in response to the horned stranger on the club floor.
She sighed. She never should have told Max about her situation. The giant was a rescuer at heart. She just refused to be a damsel in distress. She was going to need to address his unrequited love before she completely broke his heart though. He was a good guy and deserved someone who could love him fully and completely. Her own heart was locked away deep in her chest. It would take a thief of exceptional skill to infiltrate the barriers she’d put into place after the disaster on Ozan. Males were generally untrustworthy.
“Well, I’m fine,” she called to him through the curtain, assuming a cheerful tone she didn’t feel.
“I’ve got to go back out then…unless you need me.” He sounded like he hoped she would.
“No, no. Go back on out and protect the performers. I’m tucked in safe here.”
She sensed his reluctance to leave, as he hesitated just a step away.
“You’ll let me know when you’re ready to head to your cabin so I can escort you?” Shortly after she’d started performing at the cabaret, she’d been accosted by a member of the audience who’d wanted to experience her dancing, and more, in a private setting. She’d fought him off, but it had left her with bruises and a new dependency on Max to protect her outside as well as inside the club. He’d escorted her to and from the club ever since. She also had taken to wearing her all-encompassing hooded cape that hid her identity from prying eyes when she was in costume.
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to head out, okay? I promise. No rush, though. I’m going to get something to eat at the bar first.”
With a grunt of approval, he moved away and she took a deep breath. She would tell him tonight that her interest in him was not the same as his interest in her. When that happened, he’d likely stop protecting her outside the club, and she’d be completely alone. With the exception of her parents and her sister, no one had ever risked anything for her or cared what happened to her. Until Max. Not even her boss cared except that her act brought in crowds who drank and ate at the cabaret. If her performance failed to bring in people to spend their money, she’d be cut from her headlining sets, maybe even from the schedule completely. She knew her worth. A hundred other talented dancers waited to take her place.
She removed the last bit of her costume, the only modesty that remained after her dance, and carefully folded and tidied the various veils of the spinning rainbow outfit she wore every evening for her third act. She packed them, along with her other costumes and the matching masks and headdresses into a pack. She’d be handwashing everything tonight in the tiny bathroom adjacent to her shared sleep cabin. She slipped the height-enhancing shoes into a rack under her dressing table. She wouldn’t need them again until the next day. She wiggled her bare toes, enjoying the freedom of being out of the uncomfortable shoes.
She dressed then in a baggy flight suit she’d picked up at the ship’s employee uniform shop. She wove her long hair into a severe single braid down her back, donning a nondescript hat and a pair of camouflaging sun shades that further disguised her identity. She often moved anonymously through the club and ship in this outfit. No one ever associated her short stature with the mostly taller dancers. Even when they’d watched her nearly naked on stage, the audience members rarely guessed what she looked like out of costume.
The low-profile clothing made it easier to eat anonymously in the club before heading to her small, shared cabin. She and three other dancers did their best to limit their time to sleeping in the cabin. It didn’t have a kitchen facilities, not even a food replicator, and its interior ship location didn’t have the best air circulation. Since they worked different shifts, Ayanna rarely saw any of her roommates except during the sleep cycle.
Grabbing her pack and rolled cape, and slinging them over her shoulder, Ayanna left her dressing area and slipped out into the main floor of the club, passing through the security door, and skirting the throng by keeping close to the front of the room near the stage. Max was there and gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement as she passed him on her way to the bar, where she planned to order her meal, maybe even a drink.
She stiffened as she realized that the man who’d unnerved her during her performance was lounging at the end of the bar near the exit, his eyes locking on her and studying her with interest. It almost looked like he was waiting to catch her if she tried to leave. She dipped her head, looping her long braid over her shoulder and down her front, hoping he didn’t recognize her, and headed to the other end of the bar where a single seat had just opened up.
She sat and surveyed the menu for the night’s bar special. She could go for something spicy.
“Hello, beautiful little butterfly,” a gruff voice purred into her ear, making goosebumps raise simultaneously across her entire body. Two muscular arms pinned her in at the bar on both sides and a hard chest pressed lightly against her back, making her realize just how little the thin flight suit material protected her despite its asexual design. An image of the horned man reaching in to unzip and strip the fabric from her body flooded her mind. She stifled a moan before sitting up stiffly and pushing back at him to force him away. He didn’t budge. In fact, he nuzzled her neck as if she’d arched into him instead of pushed against him. She had meant her action to disengage him, right?
“Okay, buddy, move away from the lady.” Max. She sagged in relief. Max would never let any man take advantage of her. The question slipped through her mind though, of what it might be like to be taken advantage of by this horned male. His touch made her feel lit up on the inside. Restless. Distracted. Like waiting to open gifts on her birthday.
One of the arms trapping her against the bar lifted up in a placating appearance of surrender, but the guy didn’t move any further out of her personal space.
“Hey, man. I’m guessing you’re the bodyguard. No reason to intervene. We’re all friends here. I would never hurt Butterfly. You can trust me completely.” His growly voice stroked over her skin, which pricked in tiny, response bumps.
Ayanna shifted to turn and watch the interchange, the deep focus of the horned man and the confused struggle on Max’s face. Then Max smiled and mock-punched the guy in the arm.
“Got it. You two have fun.”
Ayanna’s mouth fell open in shock and dismay. Max turned and strode back to the bottom of the stage where he turned his back on them, ignoring them. The Max she knew would never leave her to fend for herself against a large male. Something was wrong.
“Now where were we? Oh yes.” The man resumed his stance caging her in on all sides.
“What did you do to him?” Ayana twisted to frown up into his dark eyes. She tried to ignore the fact that his lips hoovered temptingly just a breath away from her own.
The guy shrugged but didn’t answer her. The only sign that he’d disliked her tone was the tightening of his lips. Instead, he picked up her pack and cape, and took hold of her hand. He tugged her off the stool and towards a table in the back of the room where the lights were lowered and everything was cast into shadows. He laced his fingers between hers and if felt strangely right.
“Let me buy you dinner.”
Ayanna wasn’t sure what was happening, but her curiosity was piqued—had been since she’d noticed him during her performance—and she never turned down a free meal. One less meal bought was another set of credits towards her father’s medications and another meal for Luxia.
Since they were still in the safe space of the club, she decided to accept the stranger’s offer without resistance. There was something intriguing about him, something that compelled her to dis
cover why he affected her sense of order in the world. As long as she kept her real identity and name hidden and didn’t go anywhere alone with him, she trusted he couldn’t hurt her.
She stepped forward to sit at one of the chairs, when the stranger sat first and then pulled her down into his lap. His arousal was impossible to ignore. She attempted to get up but he wrapped his arms around her and held her in place, slipping her glasses up onto the top of her head, over the brim of her cap. She tried to squirm free, but he held her gently, securely against him. With a sigh of surrender, she relented, letting the weight of her softer body sink into the hardness of his. Why she didn’t resist any more than she did was a mystery. Why she felt safe with someone she suspected was very dangerous made no sense.
“That’s it, Butterfly, stay. Let me hold you. You feel so good.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.
She should have been uncomfortable, maybe even afraid, right now, but instead her heart was racing with something unfamiliar. Not fear. She knew that feeling intimately. This sense…it was more unsettling, a stronger reaction even than she’d had when they’d made eye contact at the end of her performance. When he’d put his arms around her at the bar.
She struggled to center herself, gazing up at him and finding her focus landing on his large, curved horns. The primary horned species in the Alliance were from Kadis. It was whispered that some of the horned species were psychic too, but the official word was that all psychics had been killed off during the last Alliance conflict, more than twenty galactic cycles ago. This guy was too old have been born since the scourge, although not by much. The Kadisian government had promised to eliminate the threat of the powerful KhaRya in order to become a voting member of the planetary council. If this Kadisian was indeed psychic, a KhaRyan survivor, it would certainly explain Max’s behavior though. Was the horned male even now controlling her as well? She couldn’t sense anything.
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