Chapter 1
ONE
Virak Braal ruled one of the underground kingdoms, or “cities,” on the planet Virilia as his parents had before him, and theirs before them, and so on.
He sat on the same ornate throne as his ancestors.
He wore the lofty expression he’d been trained to wear from birth, but underneath the regal mask, Virak struggled to sit still and not tap his fingers on the arm of his chair.
He was nervous. You wouldn’t know it to look at him. You wouldn’t know anything to look at him.
An attendant walked into the room. Like all Virilian males, this one was tall and strong. He wore a black vest edged with silver thread, showing the status of personal attendant as an agent of the king. “The female has arrived, sir.”
“Thank you, Raan.”
His attendant held up a clear flat screen. “Allow me to set your v-link device to translate her words into our language.”
Virak nodded, and the small device that hugged the back of his ear hummed. After Raan was finished and had departed, Virak sat back with a heavy sigh.
He had been through this before. Another human female from Earth had come to Virilia to mate with him to produce an heir. Offspring were few since a virus had swept through their numbers, killing most of their females. Because of it, his species was facing extinction.
Humans were one of few known species compatible with Virilian genetics to produce offspring.
Only a handful were approved to pair with a male each year and those males had to be high-ranking, in accordance with the humans’ demands.
Humans had strange demands. Virak knew his rank did not make him an ideal choice for a match.
In fact, he was certain that assigning him a female was a waste.
This one would request transport back to Earth, just like the last one.
Virak held perfectly still as the female was escorted into his throne chamber.
He’d shifted slightly to the side, chin resting on a loose fist. The first thing he noticed about her was her height.
She was tall, for a human, making her stature closer to that of a Virilian female.
At first, he half expected to see a long blue tail swinging behind her with a barbed tip.
There was no one thing he noticed next. A package was coming into focus. Long black hair. Eyes that missed nothing. A serious mouth. Defiance in every part of her like a sharpened knife. She looked like someone prepared to be judged for a crime.
She was older than the last female who had been sent.
That one had been twenty-two. This female looked closer to thirty as humans went.
She wore a simple white shift, like those he knew were given to women in the selection process.
He’d sent other clothes, far more lavish and regal.
Why hadn’t she chosen to wear them? Below her collarbone lay the black, crittine gemstone in its simple platinum setting.
The gemstone of his family line looked natural on her, matching the shine of her black hair and the defiant glint in her dark eyes.
“King Virak, this is Jessa Robson, chosen as your match by the High Sage Ferias.”
Ah, Ferias. He was very fond of the female who had become like an aunt to him over the years. Since she made the match, he could not dismiss this female. He flicked his fingers and the two guards backed out the double doors, closing them.
The female, Jessa, did not blink. The only sign of her nerves was the movement of her throat as she swallowed heavily. “Getting to it straight away?”
He raised an eyebrow. The female’s voice held challenge and determination. Not the ideal combination for someone supposedly about to embark on a sexual relationship. “Getting to what?” he asked.
“It,” she replied. “The sex.”
Virak’s lips twitched as he rose from his seat and closed the space between them.
He got as close as he could without spooking them both.
She did not back away. She was either extraordinarily horny or eager to get “the sex” over with.
He would wager anything it was the latter.
“Was your journey pleasant?” he asked, as though she had not spoken.
“This courier service is the best in this quadrant.”
“It was fine.” One shoulder hitched upwards. “They were nice.”
Fine. Nice. This female was as nervous as he was, or profoundly dull. “You chose not to wear the clothing I sent.”
“Was it mandatory that I change?” She crossed her arms, plumping up full breasts that already strained against the thin material. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be insulting. The dresses were beautiful, but kind of over the top for me.”
He peered down at her, revealing nothing of the curiosity he felt. “Over the top?” he inquired. “What does that mean?”
Her lips pursed. Her gaze moved over him quickly, then settled on a spot over his shoulder. “It means they were just too much. Sparkles and straps and layers of fabric. I—I was uncomfortable with the idea of wearing them. And I was uncomfortable enough.”
Ah. There was a slight concession of nerves. “I see.” He nodded, pacing a few feet away from her. “I should have sent a better selection.”
She shrugged. “It’s okay. It was a nice thought.”
Another “nice.” When all he did was gaze at her, she rolled her eyes and sighed. “Look, I’m here for the fee, not to be your spoiled, pampered pet. I don’t need shiny things or romance or seduction. Consider me your very expensive surrogate.”
He took a moment to work through the words. The translation wasn’t perfect, so he wanted to make sure he understood her correctly. “You have no interest in fine things and affection?”
“No.”
“What about the child we may produce?”
She dropped her gaze but shook her head. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about parenting. But I’m sure you’ve got it covered.”
He did. He had a staff of hundreds, but he wanted to know more. Like what caused the shadow that crossed her expression when she replied? What did money buy for her that she would cross the galaxy for? Instead, he gave the slightest of nods and turned his gaze away.
No matter how interesting this female was, she would not be here long.
He looked at her lush curves, swelling beneath that light dress, and wondered what they would feel like.
A normal male would be eager to find out.
He would eagerly accept her blatant offer and would not pass up the opportunity to touch, explore, possess.
But Virak was no normal male. Despite his power and privilege and wealth, he was as isolated as a hermit in his grand palace.
He had been so young when his parents died that he barely remembered them.
Since their passing, he touched no one, and no one touched him.
Attendants, teachers, advisors—all of them treated him like a king, not a child.
So, perhaps his aversion to touch had begun accidentally, then turned into a habit.
Whatever the cause, it was now as much a part of him as the bones in his body and the skin covering them.
The greatest secret of King Virak was that he could not tolerate the touch of another—a challenging malady for one expected to produce offspring.
There was no way to explain that to this female.
In time—probably not much—she would become confused by his lack of attention.
She would find him strange, eccentric, and any spark of attraction that might have grown would fade.
The request would come from her to be sent back to Earth. And he would comply.
“You may retire to your rooms,” he said to the female, with a flick of his tail. A weariness swept through him, but it was easy to hide, like so many things. “An attendant will summon you for dinner.”
There was a pause, then the automatic doors sighed, and she was gone.
Such a waste, for a perfectly good match to be spent on him.