Page 21 of Alien Healer’s Mate

He tilted his head, those violet eyes narrowing slightly. “It would be polite to attend. And most Latharian males would be honored by the presence of a female, even if it is at their memorial.”

She shifted her weight, looking down. She wore a pair of grey joggers and a royal blue hoodie, the lower hem frayed where she’d pulled the threads to play with the robot. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.

“I can’t,” she said, gesturing vaguely at herself. “I’d feel like garbage showing up to something formal in sweats. It wouldn’t be right.”

Kellat studied her for a long moment, and his expression was unreadable.

“One moment,” he said, then turned and vanished down the corridor before she could reply.

She stood there, her arms wrapped around herself. She glanced toward the bunk where the robot was hiding, then back at the empty doorway.

Wait, what… what was ‘one moment’ supposed to mean?

Before she could stick her head out into the corridor and call after him, he reappeared in the doorway, holding something in his hands.

It was a dress.

But it wasn’t the kind of cheap, scratchy things she and Harper used to buy at the malls back home to wear on a night out… the ones that smelled like chemicals and clung to her skin in all the wrong places. This was a Dress.

The fabric was heavy but fluid, the color shifting from a deep, iridescent plum to a shimmering silver as it caught the light. It was the kind of dress that belonged in a high-end boutique with security guards and air that smelled like expensive perfume every time the door opened.

Her jaw dropped. Kellat had a dress? How—where on earth had he gotten a dress?

“Where did you⁠—“

“Get changed,” he cut her off, shoving the dress into her hands. Then he simply stepped back and let the door slide shut. She stared at the closed door, then down at the fabric in her hands.

“Well, okay then.”

She kicked off her joggers and peeled out of the hoodie, leaving a pile of laundry on the floor that looked pathetic compared to the shimmering heap in her hands. Holding the dress up, she turned it around. Then frowned. Okay, it didn’t make sense. The straps were in the wrong place and way too long.

“How the hell do you put this thing on?”

She tried to slide it over her head, but the fabric slid right off her shoulder and pooled around her ankles in a heap. Huffing, she gathered it up and tried again, this time wrapping it around her waist and trying to find a waist-tie or a hidden clasp. But there was nothing. No zipper. No buttons. No nothing.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

She spent the next five minutes in a full-blown wrestling match with the damn thing. At one point, she had it wrapped so tightly around her midsection that she looked like a very fancy, purple burrito, and the neckline gaped open at the shoulder, exposing half her chest to the air. She twisted, tugged, and nearly tripped over the hem, her face flushing red.

“I am smarter than a damn dress,” she snapped. “I’ve broken AI systems. I can figure out a piece of fucking cloth.”

Taking a breath, she stepped back and tried a different angle. She draped it over her shoulder first, crossing the fabric diagonally across her chest and tucking the end under her opposite arm. There was a slight click, and suddenly the fabric tightened. It flowed over her hips, hugging every curve before spilling down to the floor in a soft, shimmering wave.

It didn’t just fit. It settled into place like it had been made specifically for her.

She froze, her eyes wide. Then she turned slowly, glancing at the dark porthole glass since the cabin didn’t have a mirror.

Annnnnd… she didn’t recognize the woman looking back at her.

The color made her blue eyes pop, and the silver highlights caught the light with every move, showcasing her curves. The dress didn’t make her look like the girl who’d spent her signing bonus on tequila and crashed a flyer car.

She looked… elegant. Sophisticated. She looked like the kind of woman who belonged at formal events and memorials. Like someone who didn’t have to apologize for taking up space or laugh off her mistakes to make other people comfortable.

Someone worth choosing.

The thought hit her hard, making her suck in a breath. Then she blinked, and the spell broke.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Dee,” she whispered to the glass, and jumped as there was a knock on the door.