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“I’m glad he met you. Please be safe,” Grace said before hugging me.
I returned her embrace. At that moment, I realized that my instant affection for Grace had been partially caused by how similar her personality was to my late sister, Sevina. Like her, she had been a submissive, gentle soul with her heart on her hand. She had only ever wanted to live in peace with others and be loved for who she was.
A firm knock on the door startled us. I didn’t need to ask to know who it was. Grace released me, and we both rose to our feet.
“Oh!” Grace said. “I almost forgot. Just so you know, if you are using contraception, it probably won’t work with a Braxian.”
A second, more forceful knock on the door kept me from answering.
“Come in!” I said, shoving the dilator bottle back into the bag and slipping it inside my luggage.
The door opened on Ravik, looking even more imposing than I remembered. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Grace, who smiled at him with a semi-guilty expression on her face. I grabbed my bags and stepped in front of her, breaking his line of sight.
He refocused on me as I marched up to him. “Ready when you are, big boy.”
He snorted. “I assure you, little bird, I am no boy.”
Grace’s chuckle joined mine as Ravik took my bags from me, and we headed for the elevators. My farewells to Anton and Grace were bittersweet. However odd this couple appeared to be at first glance, they were seriously growing on me. I regretted not having a chance to see their children and missing the gladiator finale that would take place the next day. But destiny awaited me ahead.
Chapter 5
Ravik
Distracted by my woman supervising the transfer of her vessel to my shuttle bay, I half listened to Baldur, my ship’s captain, as he gave me his report. I wanted him to go away, his voice like so many gnats buzzing in my ears. Ravena fascinated me and stirred emotions within me that I’d never thought to experience again.
It frightened me.
Even before that too brief taste of her, I’d known she would become an obsession and a weakness. I couldn’t understand her obvious attraction to me. By intergalactic standards, nothing about my face would ever qualify as handsome. On Braxia, beauty was not a common trait for males, nor was it sought after. The more feral and bestial the features, the purer the bloodline, and the more fearsome the warrior. Beauty was only required for females. Stunning, smart, and with an irresistible sass that bordered on insolence, Ravena could have any man she wanted. Yet, the scent of my woman’s arousal lingered in my nose, and her heated response at my touch still had my blood boiling with the need to conquer her.
But what does she want?
In this liberal era, most prosperous and technologically advanced planets enforced strict rules of gender equality in all aspects of life. A large number of single females came on pleasure barges such as those in Anton’s Hive Network on a quest for exotic entertainment. The many dominatrices and mistresses leading their pets around on a leash were further testimony of how the world had changed, and how we’d been left behind.
No, we’ve been refusing to change with it.
On Braxia, a female caught seeking sexual fulfilment would be cast down as a whore and declared a clan toy to be used by any male, at any time—however he wished—for his pleasure. But here in the rest of the world, females were encouraged and empowered to explore their sexuality like males had for millennia. Was I entertainment to her? A fleeting, exotic affair to scratch an itch during her short, planned stay on Braxia?
While that very probable prospect triggered a dull ache in my chest and ignited an irrational anger deep within, reason dictated it would be the best possible outcome for all concerned. Having such a gorgeous female as my concubine for a short while would gain me praise and admiration. Anything more serious would trigger some major outcry. But even if I wanted to weather that storm, what did I have to offer her? She was the outrageously wealthy heiress of the once, most successful slaver in the galaxy. I was the ruler of a backwater planet on the verge of bankruptcy, if not war.
Looking around the shuttle bay at my four dozen shuttles and fighters, Ravena’s small vessel sitting amongst them further highlighted the gap between us. Sleek, elegant, and at the height of technological excellence, it put my own battleship to shame. Clearly of Guldan design with its sharp, angular edges, it also possessed some other influences, dominantly Tuurean.
“Has everyone returned to the ship?” I asked.
“Everyone except some of our guests, Magnar,” Baldur replied. “The non-warriors stated that, as they would be of no use in the hunt, they would remain to honor the Braxian gladiators in the championship.”
Ravena’s soft but determined steps resonated on the dark metal plating covering the floor as she approached us.
“Pattel returned as well?”
“Yes, Magnar.”
As much as I wanted him with me on Braxia, this wouldn’t do. I resisted the urge to place a possessive hand around Ravena’s waist when she stopped by my side. Baldur’s eyes flicked towards her before he quickly averted them.
“Have him come to my quarters and prepare for immediate departure.”
“Yes, Magnar,” Baldur said.
He slightly bowed his head and struck his chest with his fist as a salute before leaving.
