Chapter 10

TEN

After her treatment with Zharek was done, Bea was escorted by Ortan—who piloted a floating transporter—to a lounge area, where she was supposed to wait for Mavrel to return with her shoe.

She didn’t really understand why he, a highly trained tech guy, would be tasked with fixing a damn shoe, but she wasn’t complaining.

Somehow, it had been decided that he would accompany her to the ball.

A date, if you will.

One that was complicated by the existence of this so-called Mating Fever.

“Please, have a seat. Make yourself at ease.” Ortan offered her a stiff, oddly formal bow. “If you would like, I can request that one of the humans come and keep you company while you wait.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Bea awkwardly sat down in a comfortable armchair. “I’m fine to wait on my own.”

She didn’t want to drag anyone away from the big event, and she didn’t really have the headspace for socializing right now, especially with someone she’d never met before.

After everything Zharek had revealed, she just wanted to take some time to regain her composure and try to process it all.

“Very well. I’ll take my leave, then. If there’s anything you require, just say. The system will pick up on your voice-activated commands or requests, and I’ll be summoned.” He pointed his chin in the direction of a small kitchen-type area. It looked surprisingly human in its design, as did the rest of the room. “Refreshments are available from the bots.”

“Thank you. Ortan.”

The Kordolian disappeared, leaving Bea to study her new surroundings.

She wriggled her toes in the fluffy slippers she’d been provided. They were pale blue and impossibly soft.

Ridiculous.

The aliens on this vast and highly advanced space station were considerate enough to provide slippers in her exact size—as if she were in a fancy hotel.

It was a bit of a flex on their part—that they had the time, resources, and knowledge to cater to her on this level.

They already knew her this well.

Bea leaned back in her chair and looked around the room.

It was a modestly sized space, with a sleek minibar in one corner equipped with all the mod-cons and two cozy armchairs in the middle—one of which she currently occupied.

This was the first time she’d seen decent lighting anywhere on the station. Lights in curved sconces illuminated the space with a warm golden glow.

It actually felt rather cozy and relaxing, as if she were in the VIP lounge area in some fancy bar.

For the time being, she was okay. Safe. The Kordolians had done everything to put her at ease, even though it had been a wild ride so far.

Bea thought about the unlikely series of events that had led to her being here. Mavrel and his boss showing up at Garner Tower—and the chaos that ensued. Her good friend Clarissa getting pulled into the orbit of a high-ranking Kordolian called Jerik Garul and deciding that she would indeed like to pursue the relationship further—at Bea’s urging, no less. After all, Bea had heard things about Kordolians. Seductive, too-good-to-be-true things.

Apparently, these guys revered the humans they took as their mates.

Clarissa had certainly told her good things. She didn’t have a bad word to say about the former High Commander.

Then, there was her interaction with Mavrel. The fact that she’d had the occasional thought about him since then and perhaps indulged in a flight of fancy more than once.

The invitation had been a surprise, but by then, she’d been mulling Kordolians over in her mind so much that she’d been primed to accept.

Bea had never been the overly cautious type.

She was intrigued, excited, wanting, and a little wary all at once.

The curiosity was killing her, too.

She wanted to see him again.

She wanted to know what it would feel like to spend time with him—to be the focus of all his attention.

At the same time, she realized how absurd all of this was because, really, she knew next to nothing about him.

Except that he could be kind under pressure, that he didn’t lump her in with the humans who had acted stupidly, he was quick to apologize, he was protective of her, he made her feel funny inside…

As if her whole body was filled with tiny fluttering butterflies, and the collective beating of their wings was causing her to levitate.

This was an insane dream.

And based on the little she knew about Kordolians… if she and he got together, that was it.

Kordolians mated for life.

If she spurned him, she would never see him again—and he would suffer.

Did she really have a choice, or was choice just an illusion?

Bea tried to come to terms with her conflicting emotions. The unknown was killing her.

Calm down. Nothing’s decided yet. You just need to take this step by step.

She took a deep breath and tried to visualize herself in her own Happily Ever After—with Mavrel, the alien.

Bea hadn’t been actively looking for a man. She’d been content to date, party, and have the occasional one-night stand with someone cute—but with clear expectations set. She wasn’t looking to have children anytime soon, either.

What would Mavrel make of that?

But more importantly, what did she want?

Him, physically, of course. She wouldn’t hesitate.

And after that…?

We’ll see. It’s out of my control now, anyway.

Bea got up and walked to the mini-bar. She might as well get herself a drink. Did they have anything lightly alcoholic? Something to calm her nerves?

The beverage bot was instantly familiar, although she couldn’t determine the make or model. Unsure whether the voice command function worked, she tapped the control panel and fixed herself a half-strength Martini spritz over ice.

When she turned around, drink in hand, he was standing there, in the doorway.

Bea nearly dropped her glass. Her hand trembled as she took a slow sip, trying to conceal how shaken she was—without success, probably.

She set her drink down on the bench and opened her mouth to speak.

No words came out.

With nothing else left to do, she stared.

Is that… really him?

Mavrel had transformed from a slightly disgruntled, utilitarianly dressed alien tech guy into a High Elven Space Prince… or something like that.

Bea couldn’t believe the transformation. She couldn’t help but ogle him from head to toe.

His pearl-hued hair—almost the same shade as her braids, come to think of it—had been brushed and smoothed into lustrous lengths that cascaded past his shoulders. Bea had the sudden urge to run her fingers through it.

His elegantly pointed ears were adorned with piercings—three studs of increasing size on each side—glittering green gemstones in black metal settings. The stones looked a little like emeralds; only they were shot through with veins of brilliant amber that matched the color of his eyes.

Opulent robes were draped across his shoulders, which were broader than she’d realized. A shade of blue so deep it almost appeared black, and with bronze-embroidered borders, the robes extended to mid-calf. They were open at his chest, offering her a tantalizing glimpse of his sculpted silver torso until it disappeared beneath a broad, wrapped silken belt.

Fitted, tapered trousers were tucked into knee-high boots, the effect both elegant and rakish.

Aside from High Elven Space Prince, his outfit was also giving Refined Space Pirate vibes.

Bea was thankful for the bench, because it hid her lower body and the fact that her knees were practically quivering.

He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Hello, Bea,” he said softly as he walked toward her.

“Hi, Mavrel.” She barely managed a reply. “You look… amazing , you know?”

“As your escort to the event, I had to come up with something that does you justice. If I look amazing, then you’re transcendent.”

His compliment hit her in the chest like a bolt of warm and invigorating energy. She hadn’t expected that from him at all.

It was as if the goalposts had suddenly shifted to a much higher plane, where anything was possible.

“I’m looking forward to your company, Mavrel.”

He smiled, revealing gleaming fangs. In an instant, the smile transformed his face from sharply elegant to warm—and still achingly handsome.

And yet, the fangs were an inescapable reminder of his otherworldliness.

As he drew nearer, she sensed a certain kind of tension around him—an aura of sorts, palpable and faintly dangerous.

He wanted her.

It wasn't just the logic of understanding the Mating Fever. It was something else. A certain feeling. She didn’t know how exactly, but she could tell .

She was sure of it.

The realization sent a jolt of delicious warmth through her. Desire flickered between her thighs.

Still smiling, Mavrel beckoned with a soft nod. “Come. Let’s go. I don’t normally enjoy these large events, but with you accompanying me, I’m sure it won’t be painful at all.”

“Hang on a sec.” Bea took a big sip from her glass—almost finishing the drink—and walked around the bar until she was standing right in front of him.

She looked down at her fluffy slippers. “What about my shoe? Or should I make a fashion statement and turn up in these?”

A look of mild horror crossed Mavrel’s features. “Absolutely not. You will be dressed as you had intended.”

He fished into some mysterious pocket in his robes, retrieving her shoes—not one, but two.

Bea’s eyebrows rose.

“I had both of them remade. You can’t have one new, and the other scuffed and slightly worn. This makes more sense.”

“A stickler for detail, I see,” she remarked, looking at her new shoes in disbelief. They were the exact same pair of silver strappy heels, as perfect as they’d been on the day she’d bought them.

“Always.”

Before she realized what he was doing, Mavrel had dropped down on one knee, shoes in hand.

“What are you?—”

“Allow me,” Mavrel ordered, and even though he was kneeling and helping her put on her damn shoes—something she would have happily done herself—it felt like he was the one in charge.

Feeling a bit like Cinderella, Bea had no choice but to slip her foot into the shoe, a faint, pleasurable tingle dancing down her spine as Mavrel’s fingers grazed across the top of her foot.

Then, the other one.

Mavrel rose to his full height: graceful, elegant, and carrying an air of authority that she hadn’t really appreciated before.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. The alcohol was starting to take effect, suffusing her cheeks with heat.

He offered her his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman. Where had he learned to do that?

She took it, curling her fingers around his arm, around his powerful biceps. He might be lithe, but there was no mistaking the fact that he was very fit and toned.

“Are you ready, Bea?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then, let’s go.”

With that, her unexpected date escorted her out the door and down a dark and curving corridor toward the unknown.

But that was okay because somehow, as if in a fantastical dream, she suddenly had him for company, and she couldn’t wait to find out what made this delicious man tick.