by Black, Jaid
“I have something I think you’ll enjoy.” He turned and wended his way along the uneven aisle.
She glared at his back then glanced at the door, tempted to wait outside for Sophie. But what if he actually had something interesting? She looked around and shook her head. Fat chance of that in a place like this.
In the end, boredom won out and she followed the man to the office tucked away in the back corner of the shop. She stood in the doorway, making sure he couldn’t close her in. His motivation appeared to be financial, not nefarious, but one never knew.
He opened a tall cabinet beside the battered desk and pulled out a garment hanging on a padded hanger. He smoothed down the light brown material then turned it around, so she could see what he held.
The design was…interesting. A short, capped sleeve on one side, bare arm on the other, formfitting bodice with a short, flared skirt. It had either been designed for a child or the fabric was stretchy. From one angle it looked supple, like animal hide, then it caught the light and gleamed with a metallic sheen. How bizarre.
“Where did you get that?” She motioned him closer to the doorway, refusing to step inside.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She carefully grasped each side of the narrow bodice and tested her theory. It was soft to the touch and stretchy, but it still looked like animal hide. Until the light made it glow. “It’s obviously a costume. What show is it from?”
“Not a show. More like a program. It’s used to perform the Decadent Dance.”
“The Decadent Dance? Like spinning around a shiny pole with my private parts on display? Not interested.”
He shook his head with an enigmatic smile and handed her the costume. A small drawstring bag was hooked around the hanger and dangled down inside the dress.
“What’s in there?”
He blocked her hand as she reached for the pouch. “That comes with the dress, but you must purchase the garment to learn its secrets.”
“I see.” She had to give him props for creativity. “So that’s your angle.” Even if it was a clever hoax, she had to admit he was entertaining. “Is that cabinet full of these things? I bet you get tons of dancers in here.”
“The dress is the only one of its kind on this planet.”
“‘On this planet’?” She arched her brow at him as a cold shiver raced through her. “Are there dresses like this on Mars?”
He smiled and reached for the dress. She neatly turned away. “Slip of the tongue, my dear. I simply meant it’s one of a kind.”
“What are you asking for it?” It was doubtlessly a novelty, but perhaps the secret of the Decadent Dance would finally kick-start her imagination.
“How much can you afford?” he asked with a triumphant grin.
* * * * *
Vaden stared at the control band on his forearm, too shocked to move a muscle.
It had been four solar cycles since he’d paid for his Decadent Dancer. One by one, all those in his acquaintance who had risked their hard-earned credits on the iffy scheme had been rewarded for their patience. He was the only one remaining whose contract had yet to be fulfilled.
If the blinking light on his control band could be trusted, that was about to change.
He thrust his pulse pistol into the bracket on the thigh plate of his armor and ran from the shooting range. Rather than explain his odd behavior, he held up his arm as he passed the security gate. The sentinel waved him on and wished him luck.
By the time he reached the transport bay, he was out of breath and grinning like a fool.
“Congratulations, Commander Nassar.” Warder returned his smile. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“The signal is real? My dancer has activated her tracker? She’s ready to transport?”
The transport chief shrugged. “I’m not sure any of them are actually ready for what awaits them once they arrive. But her tracker signal is live, so that means she’s ready to make the trip.” Warder finally noticed that Vaden was still fully armored and concern creased his brow. “Shall I wait while you change? You don’t look very welcoming.”
“I’ll explain my appearance once she’s on board. I will not risk losing that signal.”
With a respectful incline of his head, the transport chief turned back to his controls. “Well, put on your best smile, Sir. She’s on her way.”
* * * * *
Zoe flew through the blackness, her screams long since faded to pathetic whimpers. If that stupid chant had been some sort of lethal curse, why was it taking so long for her to die?
The night had started out so well. The costume fit like a glove, the strange, sometimes shiny material surprisingly soft against her skin. Even the cheesy booklet—which told of brave warriors, neglected and forgotten by the ruthless people they protected—had entertained her while she’d soaked her aching feet. Then she’d decided to play along and see if the role sparked her imagination.
So she’d stood in the middle of her living room and recited the ridiculous chant.
Nothing had happened as she struggled through the awkward phrases the first time. But the second time, she paused before each phrase and spoke more carefully…
The sense of motion gradually slowed, which sped Zoe’s already racing heart. A violent rushing, like the roar of a storm, made her wish she could cover her ears. She felt as if she were being sucked through a giant Hoover and was about to hit the vacuum bag.
Light bled through the darkness then individual sounds separated themselves from the din. She tried to scream again, but her raw throat wouldn’t cooperate with the fresh rush of terror. What the hell was happening? She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in hours. This couldn’t be a wacky reaction or some accidental overdose…
The dress!
Had her pores absorbed some sort of hallucinogenic? Decadent Dance indeed! She hadn’t lost her mind. She’d tumbled down the rabbit hole!
Her feet hit something solid and pain ricocheted up her legs. Her dry throat surrendered a strangled cry then she collapsed onto her hands and knees. Her hair streamed forward, insolating her from her surroundings. Was it better to fight an acid trip or just go with the flow? She wasn’t into recreational drugs. In fact, she felt guilty each time she took an aspirin.
That salesman was in for one hell of a lawsuit. That was for sure.
Beneath her, the floor looked like metal that had been buffed to a satin finish. She listened, trying to decide if she wanted to lift her head or just pray that the hallucination would end. Was anything left of her apartment or was she completely immersed in this drug-induced fantasyland?
A gruff voice spoke words she didn’t understand. That wasn’t good. Was someone in her apartment? He repeated the same phrases, as if speaking louder would help with the translation.
Massive hands wrapped around her upper arms and she screamed.
Okay, that felt way too real!
He dragged her to her feet as she flipped her hair out of her eyes and looked up—way the hell up.
One glance at his face convinced Zoe he was part of the synaptic joyride, so she allowed herself to relax just a bit. But why did he feel so real?
“I don’t understand you.” She felt obligated to respond so he didn’t think she was ignoring him.
His skin was smoke gray and his unusual black lips made her want to trace them with the tip of her finger—or better yet, her tongue. Sculpted armor contoured to his entire body, leaving only his head and hands free. Midnight blue with silver inlay across the shoulders and down each arm, the protective suit was surprisingly beautiful. As was the man wearing the armor.
She’d hoped to kick-start her imagination, but this was ridiculous. Even with his unusual coloring, the man’s features were basically humanoid. His angular cheekbones and sharply defined jawline made him appear harsh and refined at the same time. But his eyes… Distinct silver slashes divided his bright-blue irises into pie-shaped wedges, and even the whites of his eyes were tinged
with blue. His jet-black hair had been buzzed in what could only be described as a military style. Too bad. She could imagine it long and flowing, adding to his elfin mystique.
He spoke again, slowly this time, his silver-streaked gaze boring into hers.
She shook her head and twisted out of his grasp. “I don’t speak…alien.”
He looked at a person standing to her left, a person she hadn’t noticed before. Though his coloring was similar to the warrior elf’s, this man was smaller and much less intimidating. She took a step toward him and Warrior Elf’s arm wrapped around her waist, jerking her back against his body.
His harsh words made it obvious he didn’t want her talking to the other man.
“Fine.” She slowly turned around and looked into his strange yet beautiful eyes. “What do you suggest we do?”
If this was all some drug-induced hallucination, why did everything seem so real? Trepidation gripped her belly and rekindled her fear. It had to be the dress. What other explanation could there be? She’d been sucked through a wormhole and—
No. That only worked when someone was already cruising around in a spaceship.
The smaller man said something to the warrior and the warrior replied, but his gaze never left Zoe’s face. The smaller man approached with obvious reluctance, his gaze continually darting toward the man holding her. The smaller man held some sort of instrument, which looked a little too much like a gun for Zoe’s peace of mind.
“Wait a goddamn minute!” She tried to twist away, but the warrior trapped her arms at her sides and held her firmly as the other man went to work. “What are you doing?”
He moved her hair away from her neck and pressed the gun-thing against her skull just behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she should hold still so he didn’t scramble her brain or fight like hell to prevent the same thing. If she died in a hallucination, would she die in reality?
She heard a snap and a sharp sting made her gasp.
The warrior said something, his tone low and…soothing? Was that possible?
“What was that?” She worked her arm out from under his hand and rubbed the spot where she’d been shot. No gaping hole, not even a speck of blood. All she felt was the long arms supporting her. “You can let go now.” He didn’t budge. “Who are you?”
“Finally.”
Had she actually understood what he just said? She bent back her head until she could see his handsome face. Wow. Her imagination was making up for lost time. “Can you understand me now?”
He stepped back, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “I apologize for the confusion.” His lips moved slightly out of sync with the words she was hearing, but that was so much better than not being able to understand him at all. “The translator microbes in the dress must have malfunctioned.”
Translator microbes? Seriously? That’s it. No more sci-fi marathons!
“Where am I?”
His brow creased and the silver slashes in his eyes gleamed. “Was your destination not explained to you?” He eased back far enough to sweep his gaze up and down the length of her body. “You are dressed for the Decadent Dance.”
Shit. She tried to remember all the crap she’d read in the booklet. Apparently her subconscious had been taking notes. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Was the dress forced upon you?”
Was he offering her an out? If she told him she wasn’t a willing participant, would the hallucination fade away? And did she really want it to end? Pathetic as it was, this was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in ages. She looked into his alien eyes and her heart gave a rebellious flutter. “I wasn’t forced, but I didn’t realize—”
“You’re overwhelmed. That’s understandable. Many dancers are skittish for the first couple of days.” He glanced at the other man and said, “Thank you, Warder. This would not have been possible without your skill.”
Before she could figure out exactly what that meant, the warrior took her by the hand and led her into a curved corridor. The same non-reflective metal had been used in the corridor, but the walls and ceiling were seamlessly molded and smooth, like flat-sided tubes.
This was all so strange. Was it transpiring within her mind or was she traipsing about her apartment, lost in a drug-induced haze? No. There was no way her apartment could accommodate their range of movement. She must be absorbed completely in a chemical reality.
A violent shiver nearly shook her hand right out of the warrior’s grasp and his fingers tightened around her wrist. “Where are you taking me?” He ignored her and kept right on walking, so she dug in her heels. “Don’t ignore me. It’s rude.”
“You were obviously upset by your arrival and anything I say is likely to upset you even more. I thought it best to continue to my cabin and—”
“Why are you taking me to your cabin? I’d be more comfortable if you—”
Rather than argue, he bent, shoved his armored shoulder into her belly and lifted her off the floor.
“Are you kidding me?” She gritted her teeth. “You did not just throw me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”
“I didn’t?” He had the audacity to laugh. “Unless the microbe failed again, that’s exactly what I just did.”
Vaden wrapped one arm around his dancer’s legs and explored her delightfully rounded ass with his other hand. She gasped then struggled, shoving against his back and trying in vain to kick her feet. Good. He liked his women spirited. No passive female could survive in the Disputed Territories and it would be many cycles still before this ship would see anything resembling civilization.
“Get your paws off me! I’ll report you to the captain or whoever’s in charge of this… Are we on a spaceship?”
She sounded genuinely confused and her body relaxed against him. “Didn’t your agent go over the details? Did you not read the contract before you signed?”
“Contract? I never signed a contract.”
He didn’t miss the hopeful catch in her voice. Did she honestly believe she could back out so easily? She should have read the fine print. Long-range transportation was especially hard on human physiology. She couldn’t return to her home world for twelve lunar cycles, regardless of her discontent. He set her down beside the door of his cabin as he scanned it open. Then he ushered her inside before she remembered to object.
She came to a sudden stop in the middle of the room and paused to look around. He took advantage of her distraction and unfastened the buckles on his armor as he crossed to the wall locker. He’d left his helmet in the transport bay, but he’d send for it in the morning. He wanted nothing to distract him from his exploration of his Decadent Dancer.
Her gaze was still examining the furnishings as he closed his armor inside the secure compartment. All he wore now was a formfitting pair of black pants and his protective undershirt. What did she find so enthralling about his quarters? Everything was compact and functional, as things must be aboard long-range vessels. She was acting as if she’d never been on a spaceship before.
He remained a step back and studied her as thoroughly as she studied the accommodations. She was younger than he’d expected. Most females this young weren’t desperate enough to accept a position as a Decadent Dancer. Her sleek black hair barely brushed her shoulders, but the style perfectly suited her delicate features. Her cheeks were still flushed from her inverted position. The deep-rose color matched her lush lips. With her face in profile, he could see the long, curved sweep of her lashes.
She completed her assessment of his cabin and turned to look at him. Her dark eyes rounded and she took an automatic step back. “Holy Mother of God.”
Vaden looked down, half expecting to find some gushing wound. “What is the matter with you?”
“I thought it was the armor.” She gestured toward his upper body, but her gaze gravitated lower. “You are…huge.”
She was the strangest woman he’d ever met. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Unique
was intriguing, and she was definitely unique. “Many of my men are both taller and stronger than me. Have all the men on Earth shriveled?”
“No, but there aren’t many built like you.” She fiddled with the hem of her dress and muttered something about her imagination. “Are we here to do what I think we’re here to do?”
He tensed. He’d heard that some of the dancers tried to renege or escape their responsibilities. Life in the Disputed Territories wasn’t easy. He could see why a female might be intimidated once she was faced with the reality of… But all she’d seen so far was him!
“I will ask again. Did you willingly put on the dress or were you coerced in some way?”
He saw indecision in her eyes and his gut clenched. If she spoke the lie hovering on the tip of her tongue, he would sell her contract to the highest bidder. He could not abide liars, would not tolerate the destruction that inevitably followed in their wake.
“I willingly put on the dress,” she admitted, “but I had no idea what it signified.”
“How can that possibly be true? Where did you get the dress?”
She licked her lips, anxiety evident in every move she made. “I don’t even know your name.”
Was she avoiding the answer so she could construct a feasible story? His temper began to heat. “You agreed to dance with a man without knowing so much as his name?”
“I never agreed to any of this! That’s what I’m trying to explain.” Her tone was sharper now, her eyes beseeching.
“I’m Commander Nassar. Vaden Nassar. You may call me Vaden.”
She nodded, though she didn’t repeat his name. “Zoe.”
“Can we dispense with this nonsense now? I have waited four cycles for my dancer. I have no intention of leaving this room until we dance.”
“Even if I had no idea what would happen when I put on the dress?”
“I don’t believe that’s what happened. I think you took my credits and paid off your debts or spent them on frivolities, and now that it’s time to earn those credits, you’re trying to escape your responsibilities.” He scooped her up and tossed her onto his bed. She landed with a little yelp and tried to crawl off the other side. He was so distracted by the sight of her long, toned legs and her smooth ass cheeks peeking out despite the solid black garment she wore beneath the dress that he nearly forgot to intercept her retreat.