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She makes eye contact with me in the mirror and says, “Not bad, right?”
My expression must betray my thoughts, because Raina quickly looks away, first at the floor and then to the mirror.
She runs her hands down her sides, smoothing the fabric that covers her curves. I want to repeat the motion with my tongue on her bare skin. I want to tear all this from her body and tell her that she isn’t going anywhere. I will drag her to my room, ignore her kicking and screaming, and lock her inside with me once again. Then I’ll kiss her and lick her to climax until she forgets her courageous little ideas about saving other people from danger.
But I don’t do any of those things.
Instead, I tell her, “You look very beautiful.”
She surprises me by quietly saying, “Thank you.”
Her eyes look brighter blue, shining as she stares at her reflection. It takes me a moment before I realize something is wrong.
“Raina,” I say, taking her small hand and squeezing it. “Are you okay?”
“I forgot what it felt like,” she says. Her eyes are wet, welling up with little beads of water in the corners.
“What?”
“Dressing up, looking pretty.” She coughs out a laugh. “I took it for granted. Never bothered with my appearance much, but it feels good.”
“You do look like a goddess,” I agree. “Even if it isZaledian.”
I can’t stop an image of my Raina dressed in mating ceremony garb from slamming into my mind. Her nipples painted red, covered in tiny woven chains . . .
She sniffles like she’s sick.
“Why are your eyes watery? Is it this fabric? Is it giving off fumes? What is wrong?”
“Fuck . . . I’m just crying,” she mutters in annoyance, wiping the corners of her eyes.
“Crying like a baby?” I’m confused.
She glares at me. “What, your people don’t cry?”
I shake my head. “Not once we can communicate in other ways.”
“Yeah. Humans cry like babies,” she explains, chuckling hoarsely.
I smile. “You’re hungry?”
“I’m sad,” she says, voice cracking. “Niko, I . . . I swear I never do this. I never—”
I pull her into my arms, and she comes so willingly, so softly. She folds herself into me and lets me hold her tight. Her shoulders shake and shake. She’s so strong and unflappable that I couldn’t even tell what was going on until she was inconsolable. She’s upset. How could I miss it? I guess I’m a terrible mate with absolutely no instincts for my female’s emotions.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say. “You don’t have to go at all. I thought you wanted to, so I stood back and let you decide for yourself, but if you’re afraid—”
“I’m not afraid,” she sniffs, lifting her face from my chest. “It’s not that. I’m going, and I’m happy that you had my back about doing it.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“It just hit me. For a minute, I felt beautiful. I was enjoying this because things have been so ugly, and I forgot what it meant to just look pretty. And the way you looked at me felt so good.”
These don’t sound like bad things, but it seems she’s struggling to speak from holding back more of her crying.
“And for that moment, I forget them. Frankie and Kaye. They’re the reason I’m doing this, and here I am, dressing up and admiring myself in the mirror. I’m here. I’m free, eating good food and getting fucked and laughing. I get tochoosewhether I go into that auction house, and they’re suffering! It feels so wrong to be happy, even for a moment.”
With a sigh, I squeeze her close once more, running my hands across her back. The dress exposes her from the nape of her neck to the perfect curve at the base of her spine.
