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There were only a few females available, with many more males, as that was often a Lycan preference, and this was a Lycan moon, after all. It was a preference on other planets in their galaxy too, up to and including the Tygerians and their well-known weakness for male lovers. Rumor had it that King Davos was boringly and oddly faithful to his human consort. Kalen found that strange, when the man could literally have had anyone he chose.
He'd seen pictures of the consort, however, and he was quite a handsome man, not to mention witty and charming, according to the stories they told about him. He wondered if his grandson, who had inherited his Tygerian father’s looks, had inherited any part of that much praised human charm.
If he were into men, he might have been intrigued by the possibility of a handsome, charming and witty Tygerian—if such a thing were possible. But he’d never been attracted to any men, though there was a distinguished and good-looking colonel in his army who had let him know in a number terribly subtle ways that if he were ever to be interested, he need look no further than his own officers.
Kalen picked up one of the “menus” from the table and spent a few minutes looking over his limited choices. He finally settled on an exotic Jayronian girl, with long, navy blue hair down to the backs of her knees. He used his communicator to order her, along with a room and placed an additional order for a bottle of Cygnarral to be delivered to the room at the same time.
The woman had been listed as a love slave, which just meant prostitute really. Love slaves weren’t slaves at all, though they had been back in the bad old days before the Axis took over. Ironic, considering the Tygerians were the most notorious of all the planets for collecting so many Alliance prisoners and turning them into love slaves. King Davos had even married one of them, and perhaps the king’s consort had been one of the driving forces behind ending that practice.
Now love slaves were more like independent contractors. The good ones charged exorbitant prices and were supposed to be quite skilled at whatever anyone could want.
While he waited for a confirmation of his order, he enjoyed another of the strong drinks, tossing it back and trying not to wince at the burn. Beside him, Dartan and the others were doing the same. Kalen looked around the room and tried to remember why he’d thought this place was seedy and dirty when they’d first came in, because it was beginning to grow on him, with its dim lights and the perky, alien sounding music that seemed to involve a lot of horns.
A tall, vigorous looking woman with red hair came over to their table and asked him to dance by holding out her arms and pantomiming it, so he drained his glass and stood up to take her in his arms. The music began again, and she took off, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and dragging him along with her. He was shocked at how strong she was as she manhandled him across the floor, but she was laughing joyously, and the music was loud and catchy, so he soon got in the spirit of the thing. He even began to enjoy himself.
When the music paused, she reached into her rather ample bosom and brought something out in her hand. She pressed something into his and said something in a language he totally didn’t understand, while giving him a huge smile. He looked down at his palm and found a couple of small, white pills, damp with sweat. She popped one in her mouth and offered the other one to him, and his brain told him it was a very bad idea to put something like that in his mouth. The liquor he’d drunk, however, said,Oh, why not? Go ahead. Live a little.
And he wanted to dance the way she did, so uninhibited and unafraid of what anyone thought of her—to be taken over by the music and this forbidden night and forget obligations and other people’s expectations. Just for a little while.
Nothing happened at first. Kalen didn’t get dizzy or sick or feel particularly uninhibited. But as they twirled through the next song and then the next, he began to feel the little explosions of pleasure throughout his body. He knew she was flying, because he was pretty sure it hadn’t been her only little white pill of the night, and he wanted to fly along beside her for a while. They danced and laughed and flung themselves around the room, daring anyone to get in their way. It helped that she was so large and flamboyant, because people saw the two of them hurtling their way and ducked for cover like they would have dodged out of the path of a runaway space shuttle.
The music finally ended, and just in time too, because Kalen thought if it had kept on much longer, there was a good chance he’d have been sick. The room was beginning to swirl with bright, jewel toned orbs. When he saw one of them splash onto a table and cover everyone in a shower of emerald, he managed to explain that he didn’t want another dance and made his unsteady way back to the table, dodging the many orbs floating in the air along the way. Kalen fell into his chair, a little out of breath as the room swung drunkenly around him, and the orbs flew up to the ceiling like champagne bubbles in a glass.
“Are you all right?” Dartan asked, and he nodded and threw back another shot that was waiting for him on the table. It burned all the way down and made a few of the bubbles pop on the ceiling, releasing a shower of gold and blue.
Kalen was beginning to like this place more and more with each passing moment.
It was a while later that one of the barmen tapped his shoulder. “Your room is ready,” he said, jerking his head toward the stairs. “Take the left staircase to the third floor. Turn right at the second stairwell. Then it’s the fourth door on the left.”
Kalen made an attempt to get to his feet and was surprised when his efforts failed. He doggedly tried again, and this time he made it out of his chair, although he had to hang onto the table for support. The orbs had diminished to the size of little colorful stars, shooting wildly around the room. He ducked down to miss one coming straight for his head, and Dartan peered up at him with squinty eyes.
“Wha-what are you doing? Are you dancing again?”
“No. I’m going up to a room. Second floor right, third left door. No, wait…second stairwell, first door on the left of the third floor.”
Dartan, swaying in his chair, blinked at him. “You better lay off that Cygnarral. I think you may be drunk.”
“I’m fine. I’ll only be a little while. Keep ordering drinks for them,” he said, trying to jerk his head toward his uncle’s guards and surprised by the fact that his whole body followed his head around. He managed to stop himself from twirling around by grabbing the table. He passed a hand over his face. “You know, Dartan…maybe I did have just a little bit too much to drink.”
“Lemme take you upstairs,” his friend said, but then looked confused as he seemed to be unable to stand up.
“No, no,” Kalen said, shaking his head vigorously. Maybe a bit too much as he may have pulled a muscle in his neck. “I’m fine. Really. Firth floor, second left, third right door. Igot this,” he said with supreme confidence.
He turned then and began weaving his way through the tables toward what he thought were the back stairs. He almost immediately slammed into a table filled with big Lycans, knocking over one of their drinks, which spilled into the lap of its owner. At the same time, one of the stars spun into a Lycan’s head and exploded, covering him in red glitter. The huge man jumped to his feet with a menacing growl, as Kalen backed away from the mess, hitting one of the posts that held up the ceiling and reeling off that into the bar.
“Buy that man another drink,” he told the bartender, pulling out a wad of cash and waving vaguely toward the Lycans. “No, for the whole table. With my abject apologies.”
The bartender nodded eagerly, raking the entire pile of bills Kalen dropped on the bar swiftly toward him. “As you say, sir.”
“Good man,” Kalen said, and began feeling his way toward the stairs again, only trying to be more careful this time and still ducking to avoid the occasional, wayward star. He found the way up after a moment and started climbing, wondering as he got halfway, where it was he was going again. The memory of choosing the Jayronian woman from the menu was receding farther and farther away.
What was it the bar man had said? Oh yes, left on the firth floor, or was it the second left on the third? Firth right? Something about a stairwell… and what exactly was afirth, anyway? Anyway, he’d go to the second or third floor and try to find out. He wasn’t sure, so he’d simply have to try them all. Having fixed his uncertain course, he kept climbing up the damned steps that seemed to stretch out above him to the crack of doom.
Then from behind him he heard a loud shout. He turned, halfway up the stairs, and saw the entire table of his uncle’s guards jumping to their feet and pointing at him.
“Stop!” the one who seemed to be their leader yelled at him. “Wait right there and don’t you move!”
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