Chapter 6
Lena stumbled up to the bar, her eyes glazed as she tapped in the order for another round of Thren ales.
Ochin sidled up next to her, poking her ribs lightly.
“I told you he liked you.”
Lena shot her a glare, boss or not.
“What’s his deal? He seems to think I’m going home with him tonight.”
He seemed to think she’d be going home with him forever.
“I told him you weren’t an escort when he requested your services. I’m not sure what else to say, but I think it’s just some harmless flirting.”
Ochin disappeared with a wink, and Lena groaned, biding her time until she had to return with more drinks.
“Everything alright?” a high-pitched voice asked, and she turned to see Adrax sitting at the bar with a half-finished vodka tonic in front of him.
“Oh yes, everything’s fine.”
A blatant lie.
He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she smiled at his touch. He was one of her favorite customers, always telling her wondrous stories of his travels across the galaxy and leaving the best tips.
“Is this person bothering you, pet?”
Oh, shit.
Lena turned to Screl, towering over both of them, his eyes shooting daggers at Adrax.
“No, not at all,” she said, shuffling out of Adrax’s grasp. “This is my friend, one of our regulars.”
“Friend,” Screl grunted, clearly unhappy. “He put his hand on you.”
Adrax was quivering in his seat, his eyes wide with the same fear that Lena felt thumping in her chest.
Screl let out a snarl, reaching into his jacket and withdrawing a vicious dagger glowing faintly with an eerie blue light. The edges looked razor-sharp as he stepped toward Adrax with the weapon raised.
The bar had grown quiet. Someone had stopped the music, and all manner of eyes and optical attachments were on the group.
Zegrox stalked over, but even he seemed reluctant to step in.
Breaking up an altercation between two regular bar patrons was one thing, but in this case, one of them was the prince of a tenuously peaceful race and protector of this very station.
And it was just a day before the first Peace Accord.
Without thinking, Lena stepped in front of Adrax and grabbed Screl’s knife-wielding arm with both of her hands, attempting to pull it down. He reluctantly allowed her to do so, dropping it carefully.
“Go back to your table,” she hissed, pressing one hand to his chest while keeping the other on his arm. “Please.”
He made a deep humming noise, but sheathed his weapon without an argument. His weapon, which was not supposed to be allowed at Ochin’s in the first place.
“Just go. I will be back with another round of drinks shortly.”
Lena was shaking, her hand on his chest as it had been at Cosmic Pulse last night. With a sigh, Screl turned, trundling back to the curtained area with only a vicious parting glare directed Adrax’s way.
“D-Did I do something wrong?” the Galyian asked, his voice trembling.
“No, no. You didn’t. I don’t know what his problem is,” Lena said.
Ochin walked around from behind the bar, directing a sharp glare at any patron who was still staring at the group. The music and conversation recommenced as Ochin patted her back with a tentacle.
“Are you okay, dear? Do you want me to bring the drinks?”
Lena shook her head, taking a deep breath.
“No, I’ll take them,” she replied, determined to figure out what this guy’s issue was.
Screl sat with his legs spread wide, one arm resting on his thigh. His head was down, eyes on the floor, even as she entered. Was this how a Thren sulked?
After closing the curtain behind her and setting the drinks down, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I can smell that creature all over you,” Screl growled, finally bringing his eyes up to meet hers.
She scoffed.
“I’m not sure how they do things on Botune, but I do not belong to you. Adrax is a regular here and a kind male. He has my permission to touch me like that.”
Her brain was urging her to take a step closer, but she froze, willing herself to stay still. Apparently, Screl did not have the same inclination.
He stood slowly and plodded toward her, tentacles gently undulating as if blown by a light wind. He stopped just before reaching her, looking down as she tried to stand her ground.
“Do I have your permission, little pet?”
Lena swallowed hard. The warmth of arousal filled her body, starting in her core, a pleasant tingling sensation that she desperately tried to push away.
She should say no. Then, this little game would be over. She bit the inside of her cheek, willing the word from her throat. Why was it so difficult to say?
“No,” she finally managed, though it pained her.
Screl closed all his eyes with a grumble and took a few steps back.
With a flick of a tentacle, he gestured at one of the empty chairs, and she dutifully sat down.
Her heart rate jumped as she sensed his presence behind her, but he didn’t touch her.
Instead, he took the seat opposite her and sighed.
Lena narrowed her eyes, unsure what he wanted. Honestly, unsure of what she wanted. She was grateful that he had respected her wishes, but why did some part of her crave his touch once more?
“How long will you be on the station?” she asked, sliding his drink closer to him.
Screl didn’t answer for a long time, those iridescent blue eyes glistening in and out between darkness and light.
“I will leave after the Peace Accords,” he said, turning away.
“Are you taking part in them?”
He nodded, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at her without blinking.
“I am part of the diplomatic envoy. I’ve helped oversee trade between Botune and Henios since this station’s conception. This treaty is very important to me.”
“Will you be returning to Botune when you’re done?” she asked, clasping her hands in her lap.
Lena tried not to look too eager as he glanced at her, his eyes dimming as if he were sad about the idea of leaving.
“Yes, I will be returning to my homeworld.”
“What’s it like there?”
A strange part of her didn’t want to leave, didn’t want the conversation to end.
Screl seemed to laugh to himself before his voice became a deep grumble.
“If you come with me, I could show you.”
She took a sharp inhale of air and tried to control her breathing.
There he was again, telling her to come with him.
Why would she do that? To be an escort for a night?
To be used and discarded like the men back in Westlip?
She could only imagine how embarrassing it would be to make the walk of shame from his docked ship.
“The planet looks so beautiful from the station,” she said, blatantly ignoring the offer. “I can see it through the window in my quarters.”
“Your quarters…” Screl mused. His tentacles curled along the table in rolling waves, like he was reaching for her but holding himself back. “I would like to see that view.”
Of course, another invitation to bed her. Did this male ever quit?
“I’m sure you would,” she purred before she could stop herself.
Her eyes widened at her own audacity as Screl let out a long, low laugh. She wondered how that would even work. She knew nothing about Thren reproduction.
Did they even have sex organs? She’d felt something when she’d danced against him last night, that was certain, but it was surprising how many species reproduced asexually, even ones with vaguely humanoid appearances. Though there were always those tentacles…
Her brain needed to stop.
Why would she even be thinking about that? Wondering if he had a dick or not. Wondering what those tentacles could do? That split tongue? She stood up suddenly, trying to quell the lewd thoughts swimming in her head.
“If there’s nothing else that you need…” she trailed off, backing up to the curtain.
Screl moved with an agility surprising for his lumbering size.
He was on top of her in an instant, his tentacles surrounding her, but not touching her.
Her body screamed for him, eager for his embrace, but she tried to resist. He waited, breathing deeply as he watched her with an intensity that made her shudder.
It was clear what he wanted, however that may work between a human and a Thren. She had seen that look in many eyes before.
Commander Screl wanted her, and for some reason, that turned her on. Even if meant yet another one-night stand. Even if it meant another ghost in her life. It turned her on, and it was taking everything in her power to reject his advances.
“I think you know what I need, Lena,” he growled, his voice like the low rumble of a stormy night on Earth.
She swallowed the growing knot in her throat.
Before she could stop herself, she reached out for one of his tentacles and, upon contact, he was on her like a magnet.
His arms wrapped around her waist as the tentacles brushed through her hair, and she pressed her cheek into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his jacket.
One of the tentacles ran across her neck, eventually coming to rest on her chin as he pulled her up to face him. Screl grazed the tip across her lips, and arousal shot deep into her core.
“Come with me,” he breathed, not loosening his grip.
Why the hell did some part of her—and not a small one—want to obey? The thought of following him to his ship and letting him have his way with her caused her skin to prickle with goosebumps, a dark exhilaration coursing through her.
Would he tie her up like the wolf-alien? Or did he have something else in mind?
Lena snapped out of her daze, upset with herself for reacting this way. What the hell was she doing? She struggled in his embrace, once again experiencing the fight-or-flight response that he imbued in her.
Why was her body reacting this way to someone who so clearly was dangerous?
Because you’re desperate. You’ve done it before, gone home with someone when you knew you shouldn’t have. You have no self-respect, no sense of worth. So desperate for love, and yet no one is willing to give it to you. No one truly wants you.
Screl finally released her with an irritated hum, and she took a step back, feeling the silky curtain brush against her.
“I can’t. Really, Commander Screl. I hope you enjoy your time here on Henios.”
Her voice cracked, and she felt a knot welling in her throat as she pushed her way out of the enclosed space.
She didn’t wait to see his reaction, just hurried back to the bar, tears dotting the corners of her eyes.
When she told Ochin she was leaving, her boss just nodded, squinting with unasked questions.
She needed to get the fuck out of here before she let Screl drag her ass to his damn ship.
Without bothering to clock out, she hurried from the bar, needing to put as much distance between herself and the commander as possible. She went straight to her room, only letting out a sigh of relief when the door whooshed shut behind her.
Now would be a nice time to have a friend to talk to, but she hadn’t gotten past the casual acquaintance stage with anyone on the station yet.
Instead, she picked up her console, searching Threns to gather as much information as possible.
She needed something to do, her thoughts racing too much to attempt to sleep, even though it was late.
She scrolled quickly through basic species facts before stumbling on something that caught her attention.
Her eyes whirled across the screen, soaking in the information as a pinch of panic began to form.
Apparently, Threns could secrete subtle pheromones when they touched someone with their sensory appendages. Screl’s weird tentacles, which had been all over her tonight.
And at Cosmic Pulse.
Bastard. That was the only reasonable explanation for why she was acting completely unhinged. Her stomach turned, tears dripping down her cheeks, though she tried to stop them, sniffling hard.
Lena shuffled to the bathroom, changed into her pajamas, and downed two sleeping pills, which would hopefully knock her out within a few minutes. She needed her mind to shut off, needed something to take away the edge of panic.
She hated the sense of helplessness, like she wasn’t in control of her own emotions. She’d felt the same before, that desperate need to jump headfirst into something without thinking things through, and it had always backfired.
Luckily, the meds worked swiftly, drowsiness tugging at Lena as she slid under the cover of her bed. She didn’t even have the energy to shut the window shades, eyes blinking shut as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Screl would be gone soon, and she’d never have to worry about him again.