Chapter 8
Leah
“Yes,” I said, watching the swirling lights of the station grow larger on the panoramic viewscreen. “Request a private berth, please, in whatever VIP docks they have.”
The privacy would cost extra, but money had never been an object for me.
What had been missing was freedom—the kind I’d seized when I bid on a blue-skinned Tholkon at the charity auction.
That first risk had only been a few days ago, but the change in my life felt so profound that it seemed like longer.
My body still ached deliciously from our last encounter.
I stretched, feeling the pleasant tension in muscles I hadn’t known existed until Aano and Yahn introduced me to positions that defied several laws of physics.
As I moved toward the bridge controls, I caught the low murmur of their voices down the corridor, but Aano and Yahn stopped talking the moment I entered.
I tried to brush it off as nothing, but still felt the prickling awareness that I might have invited someone dangerous onto my ship.
Then that familiar craving for adventure roared back to life, drowning out the warning bells.
This was sex. Whatever they were really up to, it wasn’t my business. What mattered was how Aano’s massive blue hands felt gripping my hips, how Yahn’s prehensile tail could curl around my thigh while he fucked me, how both of them together had made me come again and again.
I rounded the corner, pretending I hadn’t heard a word.
The sight of them standing there sent a fresh pulse of desire straight to my core.
Aano’s broad shoulders and towering height made the corridor look suddenly small, his blue skin gleaming under the soft lighting.
Beside him, Yahn’s lithe form and alert posture reminded me of a predator at rest—ready to spring into action at any moment.
His tail swished lazily behind him, and I couldn’t help remembering how it had felt inside me, curling against spots I hadn’t known existed.
“There she is,” Aano said, his eyes sweeping over me with unconcealed hunger. “Looking like a fucking dream.”
I’d changed into a short dress that hugged my curves like it was painted on, paired with high boots that emphasized my legs. The outfit had been chosen with a specific purpose in mind.
“So.” I posed with one hand on my hip, feeling bold and reckless, “Space Station 5 has this club called Nebula. I’ve read about it in all the travel logs. Supposedly the best dancing in this sector.”
Yahn and Aano exchanged a look I couldn’t quite interpret. There was tension there, something unspoken passing between them. For a moment, I thought they might refuse.
“Dancing,” Yahn repeated, his orange-red skin darkening at the cheeks—a blush, I’d learned. “Is that what you want to do tonight?”
I stepped closer, letting my fingers trace the defined muscles of his forearm. “Among other things,” I said, watching his pupils dilate. “But first I want to move. Feel the music. With both of you.”
Aano’s massive hand settled at the small of my back, burning through the thin fabric of my dress. “Not sure it’s safe,” he said, but his dual-toned voice—the unique Tholkon resonance that vibrated through my bones when he spoke—betrayed his interest. “Someone might try to steal you away.”
I laughed, though the protective note in his voice sent a thrill through me that had nothing to do with fear. “I doubt anyone would dare, with you two watching over me.”
“You have no idea the attention you attract,” Yahn said, his tail curling around my ankle for the briefest moment. The touch, though fleeting, sent heat spiraling up my leg. “Humans are rare enough out here, but one like you...”
“One like me?” I echoed, enjoying the way his eyes followed the movement of my lips.
“Beautiful,” Aano supplied, his hand sliding lower, fingertips grazing the curve of my ass. “Unafraid. Fucking perfect.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. Not long ago, those words from a stranger would have made me roll my eyes. Now, standing between these two aliens whose bodies I’d come to know intimately, whose taste still lingered on my tongue, I felt both powerful and desperate.
“I meant that she’s wealthy.” Yahn rolled his eyes. “In a place like this, money can make you a target.”
Somehow, Yahn’s concern warmed me just as much as Aano’s. “Then I’ll need adequate protection,” I said, pressing back against Aano’s hand while reaching forward to trace Yahn’s jawline. “Good thing I have two strong aliens to keep me safe.”
“Docking procedures initiated,” the Nova’s computer announced. “Please prepare for deceleration.”
“I’ve got this,” I said, reluctantly pulling away from their touch to take my position at the controls.
Piloting was one of the few skills my mothers had actively encouraged—they believed every woman should be capable of handling her own transportation in an emergency.
Little did they know I’d become not just competent but exceptional.
I guided the Nova into the private berth with precision that made Yahn raise an appreciative eyebrow. Aano stood behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his massive body, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of my neck.
“Impressive,” he said, and for some reason, that simple acknowledgment of my skill felt as intimate as his hands on my bare skin had earlier.
The shuttle settled into its dock with a tremor. I engaged the magnetic locks and powered down the main drives, leaving only essential systems running.
“Nova, standard security protocols,” I instructed. “Notify me of any unauthorized access attempts.”
“Order confirmed. Enjoy your evening.”
I turned to find both guys watching me with identical expressions of hunger. My pulse quickened. We hadn’t even left the ship, and I was already soaking wet, my body primed and eager for whatever they had in store for me.
“Ready to dance?” Yahn asked, offering his hand.
I placed my fingers in his, feeling the slight roughness of his scales against my skin. “More than ready.”
Space Station 5 didn’t have the luxe VIP docking area that I was used to, and the private berths were only a step above the common berths.
The moment we stepped through the airlock, my senses were assaulted by the stench of cheap synthetic alcohol, burned engine fuel, and the unmistakable musk of interspecies pheromones.
Every corridor curved away into shadowy promise, lined with vendors hawking everything from contraband Rigellian spice to pleasure bots that would make my mother faint dead away.
Aano’s hand rested possessively at the small of my back, while Yahn walked slightly ahead, his orange skin drawing appraising glances from the station’s diverse inhabitants.
I loved it instantly.
“This is amazing,” I breathed, drinking in the spectacle of a seven-foot Zangrel haggling with a diminutive green vendor over what appeared to be weaponized jewelry.
Most people wore translator chips while speaking in their native tongues, and the clash of languages created an intoxicating soundtrack.
“Stay close,” Aano said, his massive blue hand sliding to grip my hip. The proprietary gesture sent a flutter through my stomach. “This place eats pretty little humans for breakfast.”
I tilted my head back to meet his azure gaze. “Good thing I’ve got two big, bad aliens to protect me, then.”
Yahn’s tail flicked in what I now recognized as amusement. “You seem to believe we’re the safe option,” he said, those reddish-brown eyes scanning the thinning crowd as we moved deeper into the station. “Interesting assumption.”
“Oh, I never said you were safe,” I replied, letting my hand brush against his firm ass as we walked.
We turned down a service corridor that pulsed with low, rhythmic vibrations.
The music grew louder with each step, a primal beat that resonated in my core, making my pussy clench with anticipation.
A neon sign flickered overhead: NEBULA, in swirling script that occasionally morphed into alien characters I couldn’t read.
The entrance was guarded by a bored-looking Tholkon female with luminescent patterns tattooed across her blue shoulders. She glanced at Aano and Yahn, but her eyes widened when they landed on me.
“Human female,” she noted, her dual-toned voice modulating into the station’s common dialect. “Rare treat in these parts.”
Aano eyed her. “She’s with us.”
I slid my credit chip across the scanner, paying for all three of us. The doorkeeper’s mouth curved into something between a smirk and a leer. “Lucky her,” she said, stepping aside. “Or lucky you. Hard to tell.”
The doors hissed open, and a wall of sound slammed into us—deep, throbbing bass that vibrated up through the soles of my boots and rattled my teeth.
The club was a cavernous space, carved into the asteroid that anchored this section of the station.
Lighting systems threw fractal patterns across the writhing crowd, while hovering drones sprayed fine mists of what smelled like aphrodisiacs and mild psychotropics.
“Fuck,” I whispered, watching an Aikkoan with iridescent green skin dance with three partners simultaneously.
Yahn leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. “Second thoughts?”
I turned to face him, our lips nearly touching. “Not a single one.”
His tail brushed against the back of my thigh, a deliberate caress that made me shiver despite the club’s heat. Aano guided us toward the bar—a curved expanse of what looked like liquid metal, tended by droids that moved with uncanny precision.
“What’s your poison?” he asked, his voice pitched just loud enough to carry over the music.
“Something that’ll make me forget I was ever well-behaved,” I replied, surprising myself with the raw honesty.
Aano’s laugh was dark and promising. He ordered in a language I didn’t recognize, and moments later, three iridescent shots appeared before us. The liquid inside shifted colors like oil on water.