Chapter 2 #2
If only people on Earth could see this. Many people followed the lives of the women who had been chosen to mate with Virilians.
Those who returned to Earth—and not all had—were the subject of tremendous attention.
Those who were interested got reality show gigs and book deals and appearances on daytime talk shows.
Everyone wanted to hear about experiences in space, and what it was like to hook up with a Virilian.
Some women told all and reveled in the fame.
Jessa wanted none of that. After she returned to Earth, she planned to change her name and disappear somewhere remote and wild.
Maybe Montana. She would invest the five million so she could live off the interest and build a small farm with animals, a big garden, and never need to depend on, or be at the will of, another person again. In the meantime…
Her gaze met that of the gruti, who maneuvered higher up where a loose circle of thin fronds had been woven together, like a nest. With his beak, he pulled the nest apart, tossing the long grasses to the floor. Jessa collected them and placed them on the dirt floor on the other side of the stream.
It was kind of Virak to keep the gruti and provide it a safe place to live. It made her wonder if he really was as cold and distant as he initially appeared to be.
Jessa lounged in the solarium for a while longer, then investigated the rest of her rooms, until Paeri returned and told her to prepare for dinner. The bedroom was lovely, with a soft, thick bed and a closet so large, it could have held her apartment’s bedroom.
Clothing hung on racks, similar to Earth closets, but the hangers were flat, full body forms that appeared to mimic her exact measurements. Some forms were illuminated with a white light. Those were the ones she was supposed to wear to dinner, apparently.
The garments were ridiculous. Long and flowing with layers of delicate fabric and embroidery, the dresses were from a fairy princess’s closet and the opposite of anything she would choose to wear.
There were a few styles in pants, so she chose a strapless jumpsuit in deep blue with full, flowing legs and a cinched waist. It was still flowing and embellished with glittering stones around the bandeau bodice, but ignoring the dress code on the evening of her first day on Virilia did not seem like a wise move.
She dressed quickly, scooped her hair up into a high ponytail, and met Paeri in the corridor outside her room.
The attendant appeared relieved at Jessa’s appearance. “Good. You look very nice.”
Jessa rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to look nice. I’m here to—”
Paeri raised a hand. “King Virak will be pleased.”
“Why did the last woman leave?” Jessa asked as they walked through the corridors. “What happened there?”
There was a pause. “King Virak and the other human female were…not compatible.”
Jessa should have left it there, but the attendant’s reply only intrigued her more. “What does that mean? He likes to cuddle, and she likes it rough?”
Paeri’s tentacles curled up like Medusa’s snakes.
“I have no knowledge of King Virak’s sexual behaviors.
” There was a finality to her voice, making it clear to Jessa that there would be no further discussion on the matter.
This female, who was not even Virilian, clearly had great loyalty to the king.
“Why are you here, Paeri?”
“I was abducted from a ship I was traveling on and sold to smugglers who needed a certain type of interpreter. King Virak’s spies at the trading post my captors were at, heard of my presence and rescued me.
I was given the funds and freedom to go wherever I wanted, but I chose to stay here and take a position here. ”
Jessa mulled over this new information. “So he rescues creatures and people from these trading posts?”
“He does, when he can find them.”
“And you like it here?”
“I choose this life, so yes.” She stopped before a set of open doors and gestured for her to enter. “Enjoy your dinner, Jessa.”
Jessa entered the dining chamber with a head full of thoughts.
Virak sat at one end of a table. Conversation filtered through her translator, which was unable to interpret the five or six others—a mix of mostly older Virilians—who were seated and speaking at the same time.
The only empty seat was next to the king.
Her gaze met his, clashing with his ice-blue eyes, which regarded her with steady intensity. He nodded to the seat beside his, offering her no other option.
She sat, feeling the eyes of the other male diners turn to her in curiosity.
“This is Jessa,” said Virak in a quiet, yet commanding voice. “She will be joining us for a time.”
The others nodded and murmured greetings to her. She wondered who they were—friends, allies, political pawns, or something else entirely? She wasn’t comfortable enough to ask. The only person she knew here was Virak, and that wasn’t saying much.
The alien male had barely spoken to her when they met earlier and his attention was down the table, on a heated conversation, and not on her. He wasn’t likely to start answering her questions now.
Food began arriving. Large, lidded platters placed before each diner. Servers lifted clear domes off the lavish trays. Jessa’s eyes widened at the three tiers of gorgeously prepared foods sitting before her. It was all hers, which was inconceivable. There was no way she could eat all of it.
Virak leaned toward her. “These are meant to be eaten from the top layer down.” His voice was low and his eyes held just the slightest twinkle.
“We begin with food that is less filling, and work down to the richest. Do not worry about eating it all. When you are done with a layer, lay your utensil on it and servers will know to remove it.”
“Thank you,” she breathed with meaning. “I don’t know what any of these foods are.”
A faint smile curved his lips. “I hope you are adventurous. There is something for every palate.”
Jessa found herself sinking into those piercing eyes.
There was a weight to his gaze that felt like he saw more than most did.
His face was poetic in its beauty. The sounds of conversation faded to a dull buzz.
The glimmering trays and the vividly decorated room blurred out as her focus narrowed to Virak.
A faint line formed between his brows but his gaze was riveted to hers, appearing to be held there, just as she was.
Heat suffused Jessa’s bare chest and neck.
Her heart beat harder. Her breath quickened.
Her appetite for food vanished, replaced with a new and surprising hunger.
Unlike at their first meeting, lust glittered in his eyes. His gaze flickered over her face. Tension radiated from him as if a hand caressed her. The pull was mutual and powerful, but even as she leaned forward, Virak clenched his hands and sat back in his high-backed chair.
He closed his eyes, wrenching his gaze from hers with flared nostrils and a tense jaw.
Connection broken, Jessa stared at her tower of food without really seeing it. That was weird. Sexy, totally hot, but weird. The guy wanted her, clearly. Her earlier questions about whether he was attracted to her were answered, but something powerful kept him from giving in to it.
Of course, they were sitting at a dining table surrounded by a group of arguing Virilians.
But still. He looked almost angry when he backed away. No suggestive warmth lit his eyes. No promising glint. He listened to the conversation around him with vague interest, as though she were no longer there.
Jessa speared a random thing from the top layer of her food tray and put it in her mouth. If this was going to be his policy with her, making a baby was going to be a challenge. As her heart rate slowly eased back to normal, she studied him from the corners of her eyes.
Jessa turned her attention to the meal before her. She could feel his gaze return to her again as his dinner guests talked around him. She didn’t look back. He wanted to observe. So she ate, savoring what she liked and setting aside what she did not.
The reality was becoming clear: She would have to figure this guy out, then find a way around whatever his issues were. These were not things she’d signed up for when she applied to this program. Also, she wasn’t a therapist—now, that was something she could use herself.
Jessa couldn’t be sure which of them was more broken—the cold, lofty king or the neglected, former foster kid. She wasn’t sure either of them could be helped.