Alien Read online

  “Why doesn’t Klykka have one of these installed in her palace?” she muttered to the walls. She was already looking forward to her next shower. “This is too cool.”

  Five minutes later, Kari strolled out onto one of the penthouse’s many terraces. Still naked, she sipped from a chalice of warm jumya, a beverage that was brewed from the blue leaves of jumyun trees. An array of fruits, breads, and the Galian version of cheese was spread out on the terrace’s only table, ready for her to eat. She smiled. “It’s going to be difficult to go back to the basics after living in the lap of luxury for three moon-months.”

  Why oh why did Klykka keep the palace so stark and simplified when she could obviously afford to live like a queen? Bathing chambers that sensed your needs, instantaneous food delivery at the click of a button, high-rise crystal structures with elevator-like machines that transported you in less than a heartbeat from the building’s entrance to a luxurious penthouse 700 stories up…

  This was the life. Indeed the only thing missing from it was a sexy, virile male to share it with.

  That thought led to another, namely to the man she shouldn’t be thinking about.

  Plopping down on a vesha-soft crystal chair, Kari sighed as she set down her chalice of jumya and picked up a piece of fruit. Seventeen Yessat Years and the first male to arouse her was the one she couldn’t have. Talk about bad fucking luck!

  She bit into the fruit with the disgruntled force of a vampire who couldn’t locate a good vein. Klykka had told her there would be humanoid males from all across Trek Mi Q’an galaxy in Crystal City. Kari hoped at least one of the various species looked like the warrior from Tryston she’d seen yesterday. She glanced poignantly toward the chalice of warm jumya and frowned.

  Seventeen years. If she were a man, her balls would have been bluer than that fucking drink by now.

  * * * * *

  Nervousness set in as Kari walked into Mettle Tavern. The boisterous atmosphere should have been welcoming, but tonight, her first night on the job, it was unnerving. Wearing the black, sparkly zoka she’d purchased from Nyoki, her long, wine-red curls cascading past her butt, she looked pretty damn good if she did say so herself. Klykka must have been correct about Kari rating a perfect 10 on the exotic scale because every male who saw her walk past stared at her as though she were the sexiest woman alive.

  It’s about time, she sniffed, holding her head up high. Every woman deserved to feel like the belle of the ball at least once in her life. Apparently her turn had finally arrived. She conceded she’d probably enjoy her proverbial moment in the sun more if she didn’t feel nervous enough to vomit on the customers.

  “Kari Gy’at Li.”

  She came to a stop and looked around, unable to find the female voice that had called out her name. A group of Trystonni warriors were staring her down from the table they shared, their arousal obvious. Seated almost at floor level, they still looked taller than her while standing. She swallowed roughly, breaking eye contact.

  Similar to a Japanese or Indian restaurant back home, the customers of Mettle Tavern sat on vesha pads that kept them close to the ground. The patrons shared their meals around tables that appeared to automatically adjust to the perfect height for every group. Humanoids and non-humanoids—holy shit did that thing have an ass for a head?!—interacted, but mostly sat or lounged with members of the same species.

  “Kari Gy’at Li.”

  Kari crooked her neck. The voice was distinctly feminine, yet the only females in the tavern were the ones serving food and drink to the clients. For some enigmatic reason it gave her a thrill to know those women were warriors in training, yet the visiting males believed them to be, in their eyes at least, “lowly” serving wenches.

  That’s right, misogynists, she thought on her second haughty sniff of the night, score one for the home team.

  “Kari Gy’at Li.”

  At last Kari spotted her. The gorgeous Galian female making her way toward Kari had to be Arista, the warrior who owned Mettle Tavern. Klykka had instructed her that Arista would know who she was when she walked through the doors.

  “I see The Gy’at Li did not exaggerate your beauty,” Arista purred in Trystonni. Kari knew the table of warriors from Tryston were listening, which embarrassed her a bit. Coming to a halt in front of her, the female warrior ran a hand through her hair. “Fire-berry indeed. Leastways, this explains your name.”

  Kari. The Galian word for fire-berry.

  “Yes, Mistress,” she returned in Galian, hoping the warriors didn’t speak their tongue. “My hair is unusual for Trek Mi Q’an.” She smiled, her dimples popping out. “Or so I’m always told.”

  “And you have a small patch of fire-berry above your mons?”

  The warriors made appreciative murmurs, indicating they spoke Galian just fine. Shit. How mortifying.

  “I do,” Kari stated, hoping the heat she felt on her face wasn’t showing.

  “I am Arista.”

  “I know.”

  Her smile was slow and sensual. Kari hoped that meant she was being accepted as an apprentice. She knew protocol dictated that she say nothing until spoken to—at least not until Arista decided to take her under her wing.

  The seasoned warrior Klykka had praised as the best teacher of the erotic arts in Galis took her time visually inspecting Kari. Her violet gaze raked all over her body, making her aware of her near nakedness. She managed to remain stoic despite the earthly instinct to shrivel into the shadows. She just hoped the teacher accepted her so no shame was brought to the House of Gy’at Li.

  After what felt like forever, Arista resumed eye contact. Inclining her head, for the average Galian woman stood several inches taller than her, the tavern’s owner gently cradled Kari’s face and began to kiss her. Kari could sense the Trystonni warriors’ arousal. They obviously thought this was an erotic show, but Kari knew what it meant.

  Arista thrust her tongue inside Kari’s mouth, her hands falling to tweak her nipples. Kari moaned and wrapped her arms around the Galian’s neck, kissing her back with everything she had to give, excited and grateful Arista had accepted her as an apprentice.

  To outsiders, this was a show of sexuality. To Galians, the meaning was dependent on the situation. Regardless of the condition, the physical joining allowed Galians to link with each other in fatoomi—or fearlessness—a lesser form of thought-lock.

  Kari’s mind merged with Arista’s in the void she’d learned long ago to not resist. It permitted them to have conversations nobody could eavesdrop in on.

  “I accept you as mine, Kari Gy’at Li.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.”

  “You will retain the name of your sector, though you belong to the House of de Valor whilst under my dominion.”

  “The House of de Valor?” Arista was from the royal line itself! “I am not worthy.”

  “Aye, you are. If my finest, strongest warrior sends you to me, you are worthy.”

  Kari’s eyes widened. “I did not mean disrespect to Klykka, my adoptive sister. My love and respect for her is—”

  “I know, child.” Arista smiled. “’Tis 750 Yessat Years since the day I was birthed. There is little I don’t know.”

  Kari nodded, but said nothing.

  “When we break fatoomi you will follow me without words into my private chambers. There we shall discuss your next three moon-months.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I give you leave to speak to me at your will.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.”

  Arista broke the kiss and the fatoomi came to an end. The Trystonni warriors looked ready to come, assuming they already hadn’t. Either oblivious or unimpressed, Arista paid them no attention. She turned on her heel and strode away. Kari cleared her throat, quickly broke eye contact with the male warriors, and obediently followed behind her.

  * * * * *

  Arista’s private chambers were also on the 700th floor. She dwelled in the soaring white crystal tower behind the