by Regine Abel
Romero raised a dubious eyebrow. “Had he promised never to hurt you again before and broken his word?”
That’s a good point.
I pulled my feet up to the edge of the stage and hugged them to me. “No. That’s the first time,” I said before resting my chin on my knees.
“It would be irresponsible of me to tell you that Mr. Myers will keep his word, but Braxians have this thing about honor.”
Another good point.
“I think you should give him a chance to see whether or not he upholds his word. That doesn’t mean let your guard down, but don’t rule him out yet.”
To my everlasting shame, Romero told me exactly what I wanted to hear. Keeping my distance from Anton the past few days had been hard.
“Fair enough,” I said, trying to stifle the happiness from leaking into my voice.
“If you play your cards right,” Romero said, rising from his chair, “by the time those five months are up, you might be in a position of power to negotiate the kind of relationship you want.”
I snorted. “When Anton enters into a deal, he already knows you will play by his rules because you either have no other choice, or it’s just too damn good a deal to pass up.”
Romero’s laughter echoed through the room. “That is quite true. I see someone finally did her homework and learned how her audience thinks.” His eyes shone with delight.
It was silly, but that gave me warm fuzzies. I really needed to get over my pathetic need for approval. Romero hoisted himself onto the stage next to me.
“I certainly have been. Did you know that Braxians kill half-breed males?”
“Yes.” He smiled at my stunned look. “I did my homework when I first joined the Hive Network. You should have done that before you even came to see Mr. Myers for his help. But I’m glad you are doing it now. What else have you learned?”
Annoyed he pointed out how lazy I was, I elbowed him. He chuckled.
“I’ve been reading up on their interactions with women. I focused on the place of women in their society, expected behaviors, and protocols.”
Romero nodded. “Good. This is key to understanding Mr. Myers.”
“I’m not fine with those rules, Romero. They’re barbaric and archaic.”
“I didn’t think you would be,” he said, his smile sympathetic. “However, Mr. Myers hasn’t asked you to observe those protocols, has he?”
I shook my head.
“You shouldn’t follow blindly or lose yourself to please anyone, sweetheart. But understanding the other, their motives and desires is key in any negotiation.” Romero brushed my hair aside to look at my collar. “You are not in a position of strength right now. Five months is a long time to be flying blind. Knowledge will be your greatest weapon and shield.”
I nodded, my fingers tracing the intricate swirls on my collar.
“Remember when I asked you to figure out what Mr. Myers wanted from you?”
“Yes.”
“Have you figured it out yet?”
I chewed on my lip. “Well, had you asked me five days ago, I would have said revenge. But in light of recent events, I think he wants respect and acceptance.”
Romero looked at me with such pride that my breath caught in my throat. He brushed his knuckles against my cheek and kissed my forehead. Rising to his feet, he gave me a hand up.
“You know, when I started my career as a vocal coach, one of my most prominent customers was the daughter of the Horvelian Ambassador. Honey, I don’t know if you are familiar with that species, but their voices are painfully screechy and their food is like vomit warmed over.”
I made a face at the disgusting visual.
“Imagine my shock when the Ambassador invited me to dinner to thank me for my ‘fabulous’ work with his daughter. I couldn’t refuse without offending him, but there was no way I could stomach that food. So what do you do when the only thing you have to work with sucks big time?”
“You pretend to be sick to avoid going?”
“No, Grace,” he said, selecting the track I would be singing to. “That would only postpone the inevitable. I couldn’t dodge forever. What do you think I did?”
I shrugged.
“I knew they would serve their traditional food. I looked for things to numb my taste buds. Colvin leaves are your best friends for that. Rub a bit of seedic oil around your nostrils,” he said, tapping the tip of his nose, “and you won’t smell the stench. So I went, ate what I could handle and ignored the rest. My host saw me eat from his table and embrace his culture. Not that I only nibbled on two specific dishes and drowned the whole mess with wine. He felt honored.”
It dawned on me that this was about Braxian rules regarding women. They were mostly demeaning. However, some of them I could handle. Anton never asked, but how would he react if I did?
“I’m so glad I met you, Romero. Besides Marcus, you’re the first person I can call a friend.”
“You honor me,” he said with a slight bow, visibly embarrassed by my confession. “Come on then, little songbird. Let’s train. We have a show in a month.”
* * *
Over the following week, I enjoyed more of the same sweet Anton – well as sweet as a dominant, no-nonsense man could be. And that did all kinds of inappropriate things to me. Obviously, he knew I was holding back, yet he didn’t pressure me. His understanding made it harder to keep my distance. We hadn’t had any kind of sex since my punishment. He didn’t even request blowjobs. We did plenty of cuddling though and lots of kissing – no tongue.
I didn’t know what to make of it.
In a way, it made sense. I couldn’t have handled one of Anton’s vigorous tumbles after being this sick. Despite that, he spent more time with me. It made me feel cherished instead of his fuck toy. However, twelve days felt like a long time for him to continue apologizing.
Before things went to shit, he would have me suck him off at least two or three times a day, not counting the random times he would bend me over – usually in his office – on the desk, carpet, couch or against the wall. Like all Braxians, Anton could get it up at will, without needing to be aroused. Even after he climaxed, he could choose to stay hard. I was ready to have sex with him again, especially now that I could hope for a cuddle afterwards. Then again, maybe post-coital cuddling wasn’t such a good idea if my goal was to keep a wall between us.
This really sucks hairy donkey balls.
However, I had bigger concerns than whether or not Anton would snuggle with me. Tonight, he would take me to a dance show. It was some tribal ballet from who the hell knew where. Critics hailed it as the biggest thing since faster-than-light travel. Discovering fancy new shows appealed to me, but I was scared shitless that things would go sour again. Aside from the outings on our first week, every other time Anton and I went out turned to shit. First, the Braxian-Jeruna debacle at Sade and two weeks ago, the Marcus mess at Risqué. What would go wrong tonight? And worst, what would Anton do to me once it did?
Anton and I showered together a few minutes ago. Again, he kept his hands to himself. Minutes later, he dressed and left the room. Anton almost always wore black, with a marked preference for leather pants and skin-tight dark shirts. With that crazy body of his, he rocked it like no one’s business. Tonight, I wanted us to match.
I put on an open-back, black leather dress with a low v-neck. It didn’t show much cleavage but set off my collar nicely. Yes, I still wore the collar. Even caged naked, my collar stayed on. Anton liked my hair down but this time, he would need to suck it up. I couldn’t show off my beautiful backless dress with a curtain of hair covering it.
As a concession, I lifted my hair in a low messy bun that could be swiftly undone. I held it up with a vintage jeweled hairpin Anton gave me two days ago. It came in a set including earrings and a bracelet. The hairpin, made of pure gold, stretched five inches long. At its head, five amber stones, intricately woven with golden coils, fanned out like a peacock’s tail. The amber earrings match
ed my eyes and the gems on my collar. Sky-high black stilettos completed my outfit.
Leaning over the dresser to get a closer look at myself in the mirror, I applied some lipstick. Anton walked back in. He gaped at my appearance, an appreciative look on his face. Our eyes met through the mirror and his smoldered. Something passed between us. Something tender and delicate. He slightly frowned as his gaze lingered on my messy bun before lowering to my bare back. I held my breath, waiting for the verdict. He closed the distance between us. I straightened.
He stopped behind me, staring at my exposed flesh. Taking his time, he placed his hand on the naked small of my back and slid it upwards. His fingers trailed along my skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. I turned around to face him. Anton’s eyes roamed over me, full of want. He ran his thumb over my collar, like the first time he put it on me. The look in his eyes told me he was fighting the urge to toss me on the bed and have his way with me.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” Anton asked.
Without giving me the opportunity to answer, he drew me into his embrace and kissed me. My lips parted, inviting. But Anton pulled away. How could he exercise this much restraint with so much passion burning within?
“Finish up and meet me by the lift.” Anton’s voice rumbled with desire.
He walked out, leaving me aching with need.
CHAPTER 17
Grace
It was my first time at the Viaggo. The elegant opera house often featured dance recitals. From where I stood, the reception hall looked like three connecting circular rooms. The décor was reminiscent of the old Earth Renaissance era, with intricately carved darkwood walls, gold leaf work, columns and paintings on the vaulted ceilings. Anton’s red empire chair would fit nicely here.
The elite of the elite mingled in small clusters. They were so damn stiff, it was a wonder they didn’t break when they sat down. Beautiful bare-chested men in body-hugging black ballet tights served exotic alcoholic beverages and canapés. Tribal tattoos spiraled in knots along their right arm and the right side of their face.
One of them stopped before us, presenting a mouth-watering plate of colorful amuse-bouche. The scent of Firenese Peppers wafted to my nose and I promptly declined. Those things would set your mouth on fire before liquefying your innards. That explained the few patrons turning bright crimson and coughing into their delicate napkins.
Anton’s fingers drew circles on my back in a slow, sensuous motion. Since we left the penthouse, his hand seldom left my naked skin. He flaunted me about, introducing me as his companion – not his pet. I was blossoming under the attention; my dress was absurdly sexy and could even make a baboon’s ass look yummy. That Anton’s deliciously wandering hands attracted more stares further filled me with warm tingles.
However, some stares were less welcome than others, such as the rather persistent ones from a Sarenian man. Humans easily represented a third of the patrons on Venus Hive, mainly due to the large number of nearby human colonies. The others were an eclectic mix of humanoid aliens – though most would skin you alive if you referred to them as such. After all, no human would want to be described as a Sarenoid alien. I liked most species. Many were rather attractive and above all, friendly. Sarenians were gorgeous; tall, lithe, dusty blue skin, silky long hair and small horns shaped like a crown. I could spend hours admiring their beauty. Except they treated women even worse than Braxians.
A large portion of the entertainment provided by pleasure barges such as the Hive Network – more than half of it – was of an erotic nature. Therefore, the patrons, regardless of species, tended to be sexually compatible. The common areas of the station imposed strict rules of conduct. However, specific venues within the station could set their own, less restrictive, custom rules. It was essential due to cultural differences that could engender ugly situations. That said, venues focused on cultural events such as this opera house, museums and concert halls, catered to a more diverse variety of aliens where anatomic compatibility didn’t matter.
We weaved through the patrons, Anton exchanging pleasantries with a few of them while I sipped on a glass of fruity white wine. I almost chose champagne, which I loved, but the bubbles made me sneeze. It wouldn’t look very dignified.
To my relief, Caleb and Sheila didn’t appear. In fact, I was one of the only performers in attendance. While artists at Sheila’s and Seria’s level earned substantial wages, Venus Hive was meant for the elite and priced accordingly. Without a ‘benefactor’ to foot the bill, most people employed on the Hive couldn’t afford more than the occasional attendance in the VIP section’s events. As a performer for Risqué, Sheila got to eat there at cost, and as Caleb’s squeeze, she got to tag along on some of his fancier outings.
Bored with the droning ramblings of Anton’s latest interlocutor, I asked to be excused while I made a quick stop in the ladies’ room. Anton nodded. His smirk told me he knew exactly why I was running. My gut told me he would like to do the same. I almost felt guilty abandoning him like that, especially considering I didn’t actually need to go. Strutting to the washroom, I took my sweet time examining the patrons and especially the latest fashions from the outer rim.
Thankfully, I didn’t find a line at the bathroom. In the Commons, if you wanted to go to the toilet, you might as well make reservations weeks in advance. Here, only a handful of women stood inside. We exchanged polite nods and I ‘fixed’ my messy bun by messing it up a bit more and retouched my still perfect makeup.
The performance wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Running out of excuses to dally, I left the washroom, intending to make a detour to the bar. I wanted to grab a glass of mineral water to wash out the sugary taste the wine left behind. On leaving, I almost crashed into the tall Sarenian man who had been staring at me. The slow smile that stretched his lips made my stomach drop.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to circle around him.
He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “What’s the hurry? I’d like to get to know you.”
He was stunning, yet creeped the fuck out of me, far worse than Caleb. His voice was melodic with a purring element to it. The spicy scent of his cologne was enticing.
No, not cologne… pheromone.
I glared at him. “Please step out of my way,” I said, my voice clipped. “My companion is waiting for me.”
“No one is waiting for you.” His voice took on a strange vibration.
Stupid girl! How could you forget?
Sarenians were dangerous, able to ensnare and mesmerize their prey. The males could release pheromones that enticed their victim. They also hypnotized vulnerable targets with a direct stare and the vibration of their voice. I knew better. Marcus warned me against them plenty of times. But I never imagined one would target me in such a public venue.
I opened my mouth to argue, but my mind went blank. Frowning, I tried to remember who I had intended to see after leaving the bathroom. The Sarenian held my gaze, his scent heady. I needed to avert my eyes, but they were glued to his. Through the fog clouding my thoughts, the image of a Braxian half-breed appeared before starting to fade. I clung to it.
“Anton,” I whispered.
The Sarenian man hissed. Holding my jaw, his face inches from mine, he said, “Obey. Be silent. Surrender.”
His eyes seemed to flash with a light glow, and my body went numb.
He pushed me towards the back corner of the corridor leading to the washrooms, never breaking eye contact until he was certain I was fully under his control. My thoughts remained my own, but my body was his to command. I screamed inside for someone to rescue me. But we were on a pleasure barge. While the opera house expected a certain level of decorum and restraint, no one would frown at a couple giving into their urges in a dark and discreet corner.
“You will never speak of this to anyone. Nod if you understand.”
I wanted to claw his face off. Instead, I remained silent and nodded. He slipped his hand under the thigh high side
slit of my dress and went straight for my pussy. Finding me without any underwear, his smile broadened and he made a purring sound again.
“How convenient. You make everything so easy, my sweet beauty. But you’re too dry. Get wet for me,” he said while freeing his cock from his pants.
My eyes widened at his statement. Get wet for him? How the fuck did he think that would happen? Like I would even want to! Burning bile rose in my throat when I felt moisture pool between my legs. I shook my head in denial, shamed by the betrayal of my own body. My vision blurred as tears poured down my cheeks. This couldn’t be happening, not here, not now, not to me.
A cruel laughter rumbled in his chest. “Yes, beautiful, the mind is a wondrous thing.”
He crushed my lips with a brutal kiss and painfully squished my breasts. Letting go, he lifted my skirt and placed his hands on my bare ass, lifting me.
“Wrap your arms and legs around me, and hold yourself up while I fuck you,” he whispered against my lips.
I watched in horror as my arms wrapped around his shoulders against my will. Suddenly, I fell to the floor and he slammed into the wall behind him. My heart all but stopped when I saw an enraged Anton holding the Sarenian by the throat. I scrambled to my feet and lowered the skirt of my dress. Tears flowed down my face. Anton took in the state I was in. The look on his face spelled murder. I wilted under his stare, fear choking the breath out of me.
He moved so fast, his fist blurred as he smashed it into the Sarenian’s shoulder. The Sarenian’s bellow of agony didn’t cover the sickening crunch of his bones shattering. I covered my mouth, my gorge rising. This Anton sent deadly chills creeping into my bones, turning my blood to ice. He breathed heavily, veins bulging on his temple and forehead.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked through gritted teeth, while the Sarenian whimpered in pain, struggling against Anton’s immovable hold.
I shook my head. The Sarenian’s command still bound me to remain silent.
“Did he hurt you?” Anton shouted this time.
Startled, my body jerked in fear. I pressed myself further against the wall, wishing it would swallow me whole and take me away to some place safe. My mouth refused to open. Shaking my head, I tapped the tip of my fingers on my throat, hoping he would understand. His eyes narrowed and his face twisted with blind fury as the message sank in.