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PENN
I spend a while getting ready in the Aelyd bathroom. It takes me a few minutes to realize that this is a bathroom, because the entire thing looks like a large white corridor, and it’s only when I press my hand against the wall that I realize there are doors lining this room.
They’re practically invisible to the naked eye. Not helpful when I need a mirror and good lighting. The only thing I have on me is a foldable mirror with powder. It’s about the size of my palm, so it’s not like I’m going to be able to see what my outfit looks like.
I take a step into one of the stalls, curiously looking around. Each stall is surprisingly big, ten square feet by ten square feet, a chrome seat that I think is supposed to be a toilet on the far end wall. I put my bag on the closed lid, grimacing as I do, and start to undress.
I’ve gotten ready for plenty of parties in bathrooms, but never an alien bathroom before. This is the kind of thing I would be texting Layla about.
Fuck, I just really, really hope she’s okay.
She’s smart and she can take care of herself, but this is still a world full of aliens who are twice our size. I slide my pants down my legs, making sure to keep my feet on my shoes. This bathroom looks clean, but I don’t want to put my bare feet on a bathroom floor if I can help it.
As soon as I take my tank top off, the fabric brushes against my nipple piercing. The tracker.
The sensation is brief, but it immediately reminds me of the way Corvus was looking at me, and that sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine.
I can’t help myself. I grab it and tug at my nipple hard, eliciting a groan. Maybe it’s that I’ve been deprived from my recent dry spell, or maybe it’s the way Corvus’ eyes flickered with gold when he drank me in. Whatever it is, it’s doing it for me.
I lean against the cold chrome wall and tell myself that I don’t have time to make myself come right now, no matter how much I want to. I’m going to have a room to myself and a whole king to fuck before I murder him in his sleep—I think it’s going to have to be that way—so I swallow my arousal with a gulp and take the nicest outfit I own out of my backpack.
I chose something that would survive the trip without getting creases, a belted jumpsuit in black and beige tones with a bejeweled trim. It’s classy without being excessive, and since I’m going to meet a king, I think it might be best to avoid the two-piece with the skirt slit that goes all the way up to the juncture of my thighs.
Though I do look amazing in that.
I shimmy into my jumpsuit, tie my hair up in a loose messy bun, and touch up the make-up on my lashes. I look at myself in the portable mirror. Despite the bags under my eyes, which are mostly covered by my foundation, I look good.
I think Atlas en’Ganivet is going to be pleased.
And I can always ask the man who’s supposed to be transporting me, anyway, if I have any doubts.
I know that Keon, his cousin and second-in-line to command the Ganivet Family, is going to pick me up. There’s scarce intelligence about him, but I know a few things.
Because he’s supposed to be a fucking superstar.
When I was told that aliens had rock stars, I laughed. The idea of that seemed so very human. But of course Aelyds have music, and it stands to reason that they would have creative people; culture, art and music.
Of course, that means celebrities.
I’ve never heard Aelyd music, but I guess I’m about to have a lot of firsts.
I step out of the bathroom. I’m supposed to wait for Keon’s hovercade in the secure dock on the ground floor, where the second ship landed, and I have to time it so he thinks I got there with that later flight.It’s not far. I just have to leave this building and take two hard rights. But Solis is a maze, and despite how comfortable I am with my knowledge of the maps, it’s different when you’re in the belly of the beast.
Especially when you’re a prized human, and when having heirs is clearly important to this species.
There’s no place for me to hide wearing this, especially not when I take my stilettos out of my bag and put them on my feet. I’m good at walking in heels, and I’m good at commanding attention, but when I hear theclack-clack-clackon the floor under me I can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.
I might be able to walk in heels, but running in a city I don’t know, trying to get away from a hulking Aelyd male…yeah, I don’t know if stilettos are the best way to do that.
But I’m good at faking it. I’m a little afraid, but I don’t need to show it. This is all new, but if anyone asks about it, I can chalk it up to nerves.
Even then, I attract quite a few looks as I finally step out of the building. I look up at the spindly buildings, swirling around me and dwarfing the landing pad. These are tall enough to almost block the sunlight, and the alleyways are surprisingly cool, especially in this thin jumpsuit.
I can feel eyes on me. I look at my nails, red and bright to match my lipstick, but I’m actually scoping out the situation. I can see three exits if I needed to escape, but I don’t know which one I would get to quickest.
I’m still putting on this performance of looking at my nails when a hovercar pulls up to the curb in front of me and stops without slowing down. It’s weird, but the hovercarlooksheavy, and as people stop to gawk, I realize that this is a somewhat uncommon occurrence.
