Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
“Something new for you from the mistress.”
Lyrace leaned against the door of my quarters, beautifully outfitted in an amethyst suit playing up the lavender and gold veins slithering up his neck, a small silver box between his pearlescent hands.
I glanced up from the vanity nestled across from the door and put down the brush I’d been running through my waves to tame them.
Once I nodded, he made his way in and placed the box down on the polished metal table in front of me.
It was not unusual to receive gifts from patrons, though I usually gave them to Lyrace or Kafita unless they could be sold for credits.
However, it was unusual for Lunastra to gift me anything.
Such gifts were typically followed with a request, or a special guest who would be joining us tonight.
It was how I’d received the two opalescent hair combs waiting in front of me and the crystal bottle of Nycium perfume beside it.
The heavy lid took me a few tries to pry open. I passed it to Lyrace, who tucked it beneath his arm. Nestled inside was what looked like thousands of gems, but when I pulled one from the box, they all lifted, held together by fabric so opaque it looked invisible.
“It is from the sister moon of my planet,” Lyrace explained. “The most beautiful clothing is made from our crystals and Mistress had this made for you for tonight.”
I spread them out in front of me, tracing the curve of one smooth stone and studying the rainbows it cast onto my hand from the halo orbs overhead. Between this and the silks, it would look like I was dressed only in the glittering crystals, something I knew would tantalize our clients.
“Who is it she’s bringing?” I rasped, rising from my stool and slipping off my dressing robe.
Lyrace barely batted an eyelid at my nakedness—it was something I had learned early in my service here.
It took a very special something or someone to move him to desire and, thankfully for me, I was not it.
Instead, he placed the lid of the box back on top and crouched to help me slip my foot through one of the openings for my leg.
I’d been right, the effect was breathtaking: it covered up only my most intimate parts, but left swaths of skin exposed.
“I do not know, only that he is powerful and important.” Lyrace swept my hair back from my shoulders and picked up the box.
So it was a night to impress.
He moved to the control panel beside the door, watching me expectantly.
I sighed and, after another moment of inspection in the mirror, slipped the robe back over my shoulders for the walk up to the lifts.
We made the journey in silence to the small chamber above the main room where most of the patrons would begin their night.
I stepped into the pile of silks, the fabric cool against my skin, and climbed, twisting myself around into the pose I usually entered in.
Lyrace waited beside me for my nod before the hatch in the floor opened beneath and the ends cascaded down below.
My breaths slowed as I lowered through the opening, the glittering halo orbs hovering around me bright after the darkness of the hold.
The room was packed, as it usually was. Tonight, a Haptium woman Lunastra had hired for the week crooned from one corner, her strange string instrument haunting as I flipped in the air.
It was simple, this sort of thing, and my mind quieted with each turn, each climb, each stretch of my legs and arms. Here was a place where I might have known what it meant to be safe, where I was the master of my universe, though it was just an illusion, the way safety always was.
But I could fall or I could fly, and at least that much would be my choice.
Lunastra was there, as I knew she would be, perched in a high-backed chair in a glittering gown of Louxurian crystals. We would look like a set, she and I.
The male beside her was steeped in shadow, the hood of his cowl so deep his features were indiscernible.
But even seated, he loomed over Lunastra, his wide shoulders too large for the dainty chair.
I paused, legs split wide, covered by the draping silks and glittering crystals, and somehow, I could feel his eyes on me.
His head tilted to the side and he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees, black gloved hands loosely clasped.
My mistress hummed in his ear, but she was watching me too, her slate eyes twinkling.
Others gathered around the stage, but they gave this male a wide berth.
My arms flexed as I inverted, hair skimming the shiny floor below when I curved my back, reaching for my foot before turning to glance again at the male.
I could not see his face because he had none. A shiny black helmet covered his entire head, the bottom coming to a sharp point, with grooves around the eyes and cheekbones to give the impression of a face.
A hollow pang echoed through my belly and frost crept its way through my veins.
There was something strange about him—almost haunting.
Perhaps it was the slight tilt of his head, or the cowl keeping his helmet in darkness.
But the weight of his gaze was there on my face, on the lines of my collarbones, on the curve of my neck swept with crystals.
A Fahtushian male stepped up to the stage in front of the masked male, the nostrils of his wide, snout-like nose flaring and skin rippling to match all the different colors around him.
A fine cloak lay across his shoulders and he flipped it back theatrically as he stared up at me cradled within the silks.
A forked tongue slipped between his teeth, no doubt scenting the air.
Behind him, the male with Lunastra straightened, one hand sliding to his hip.
“What will it cost for a night with you?” the Fahtushian male crooned at me. “Anything. I will pay anything.”
I recognized the male from how often he frequented the ship, though this was his first approach. Slowly I spun, my eyes dancing from him, to the other patrons, and to the masked one behind him.
Lunastra uncrossed her legs, a tinkling laugh slipping through the music while she subtly gestured to the security stationed around the room. “Ah, Huzard, you know our gem is well booked.”
The male’s eyes narrowed at me, as if I had been the one to speak. His tongue slipped through the air again and a muscle ticked in my jaw. I twisted to climb a little higher and when I turned the Fahtushian made a grab for me so fast it was difficult to see.
But the masked male was faster. In less than a heartbeat he appeared behind the Fahtushian, a black-tipped quara blade to the dip in his throat. Even from here I caught humming off the sharp edge of the metal—it was a weapon designed for quick killing and little cleanup.
The black cowl now dipped low to Huzard’s ear. Of course I could not hear what was said, but the Fahtushian male who had made to grab me paled until he bore no camouflage at all. He slipped from the room, stumbling over a low table in his haste.
“Dearest,” Lunastra called.
I was almost to the top of the silks again, the hatch above just within sight. With a sigh I flipped, bending back to see my mistress where she stood at the edge of the energy shield with her guest.
She flicked three fingers at me, arcing them in a half circle before turning her hand into a fist. It was the symbol she used to indicate she would meet with us privately. I gave her the barest of nods before climbing up through the hatch and sliding onto the cool metal floor.
“Did you see him?” Lyrace asked, waiting for me with a gown hung over his arm.
I frowned at the bundle of slippery fabric, unsure why he was going through so much trouble for me tonight. But he only stepped to my back to undo the fastenings of the crystal suit I wore.
“A Quinzyr here on our little ship,” he said.
I almost huffed a laugh at that statement.
Our little ship, with its sixteen floors, thirty-five pleasure rooms, and two ballrooms. “I only caught a glimpse of him, but did you see those shoulders? Maker, I knew Quinzyr were fearsome but I didn’t know one could be so handsome. ”
The crystal bodysuit fell to the floor with a soft crash. I wasn’t quite sure what it meant that the male was a Quinzyr, but I had to assume he was some sort of federal mercenary or law enforcement.
“He’s wearing a helmet,” I rasped.
A huff swirled the hair across my neck. “You almost never speak, Juniper, and the one time you deign to open your mouth it is to say words that do not matter.”