Chapter 5

FIVE

Mavrel stared intently at the holoscreen, trying to make sense of Earth’s interesting topography.

Tarak wanted to build an impenetrable land-based defense shield. That meant they would be installing the highest possible level of Kordolian tech on Earth’s fertile soil.

The shield would be comprised of colossal plasma generators that could be activated instantaneously in case of an enemy attack. The goal wasn’t necessarily to surround the entire planet in a plasma shield all at once—that was practically impossible—but to respond to direct attacks over a discrete but substantial area. Created by massive ground-based generators and powered by fusion, the plasma shield would be stabilized by a powerful magnetic field.

The generators had certain requirements.

They had to be away from major population centers—not an easy feat on an already crowded planet.

They needed a stable base—bedrock was preferable.

They had to be located within a certain distance of each other in a pattern that ensured not even the tiniest patch of land or ocean on Earth would be undefended.

This was Mavrel’s kind of project.

A challenge involving the most advanced military technology in the Nine Galaxies.

A welcome distraction from the infernal discomfort of the Mating Fever.

Zharek’s drugs had reduced the severity of his symptoms by about half, but he was still restless, irritated, and bothered by the faintly throbbing ache in his temples.

It didn’t help that she would intrude on his thoughts at any given moment, and it took a considerable amount of willpower for him to pull away from them.

If he wasn’t careful, he could lose himself in a ridiculous flight of fantasy.

But his thoughts would remain merely that— fantasy.

Real life was never so simple.

Mavrel zoomed in on the detailed survey of Earth’s lower pole. The solid ground beneath was much smaller in area than the vast layer of ice that concealed it.

Interestingly, from revolution to revolution, the ice would contract and then expand, depending on the climate at the time. It was different from the ice on Kythia, which always stayed the same.

The ice on Earth was softer, more pliable, less permanent.

Fascinating.

Mavrel became so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice when the junior tech slipped through the door… until the lad was hovering over him, and something overwhelmingly familiar was trying to slip past his defenses.

Traces of her…

Scent.

“What the…?” he groaned, whirling around to come face-to-face with Junik, a young tech he supervised from time to time. He was very green, but he was quick. With time, he’d become an excellent technician.

Junik had an unusual mutation—one eye was golden, and the other was crimson. His differently-colored eyes narrowed in consternation as he regarded Mavrel, his lips twisting wryly. “Sir, one of the human guests has had a mishap. A broken shoe.” He held up the offending item.

“ That’s a shoe?” Mavrel shook his head as he studied the ridiculous thing. It was little more than a sole with an impractically tall heel—which had snapped off at the adhesion point. Thin silver straps crossed over the top, presumably to hold the foot in place.

Mavrel remembered. That day, in the human office…

He’d seen females wearing these kinds of things. Tall heels of all colors and odd shapes, some sharply pointed, others comprised of precarious-looking straps like the one before him.

They had the effect of elongating the leg, increasing one’s height, and accentuating the calf muscles.

Of all things, he remembered catching sight of her shapely calves.

“ Hmph, ” Mavrel snorted. Why did humans attire themselves so? Those things couldn’t be comfortable, and they certainly weren’t practical. What if one suddenly had to escape, to run fast and far in an emergency?

What kind of anatomical deformities might be caused if one wore them for too long?

He had to admit, though, she had looked good…

“Uh, Sir?” Junik waved the thing around, trying to catch Mavrel’s attention. “They want you to put this into the synthesizer and create an identical replica. It’s rather urgent. The guest is waiting and currently shoeless.”

Mavrel glowered. “I’m a little busy. Is there not even a single spare pair of human shoes onboard this station that she could use?”

“Not anything that would match her dress,” Junik said mildly.

Dress?

It hadn’t occurred to Mavrel that she might have gone to great effort to dress for the event.

Part of him was intensely curious to see what she was wearing.

Human fashions could be so interesting… and provocative.

What if she was…?

Hm.

Visions of sensual curves and sumptuous human softness swam through his thoughts.

And he found himself… becoming aroused.

It wasn’t the first time.

There was no mistaking her scent. He could probably pick it out of a room full of thousands, and the logical part of him knew it was because his olfactory system was biologically attuned to hers.

Nature had programmed him, and the more he came into contact with any trace of her, the stronger the recognition grew.

Potentiation.

With each and every interaction, the circuit was reinforced.

Unable to help himself, he inhaled deeply.

There was no doubt about it; the shoe was definitely hers.

Mavrel shook his head.

It was a shoe, for fuck’s sake.

What was he turning into, some sort of pervert?

“Leave it with me,” he snapped, turning back to his work.

“Uh, Sir…”

“What is it?”

“Are you… all right?”

Mavrel closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m all right, Junik. Don’t worry about the shoe. I’ll sort it out. You may return to your regular duties. I’ll comm you when it’s ready.”

“Understood.” Junik kept his voice cautiously neutral. “I’ll be back in a short while, then.”

Mavrel waited until Junik left the room.

Then, he allowed himself a moment of pure and utter madness before he became alarmed by his increasing arousal, for which there would be no relief.

That’s when he remembered the little experimental vial full of nanites Zharek had given him. This very substance was supposed to suppress his olfactory system and prevent him from experiencing this.

He hadn’t expected to need it so soon, but who could have predicted Junik would bring him something of hers—something that carried her scent so powerfully?

She’s here…

On this very station.

Right here. Right now.

He could just… go to her.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet. He wasn’t ready.

Mavrel reached into his pocket. His fingers slid around the cool metal of the vial.

Without thinking, he retrieved the cursed thing and pressed it against his neck.

The tiny needle shot out, piercing his skin, the pain momentarily taking his arousal to a new level.

The drug entered his system.

His eyes shot open.

His nostrils flared.

His heartbeat accelerated, his heart almost pounding through his ribcage.

The pain in his temples became excruciating.

And… his cock went as hard as fucking Callidum.

Almost immediately, Mavrel understood what had happened.

Zharek hadn’t given him an olfactory inhibitor—quite the opposite. Whatever was in that vial had heightened everything.

And the effect was so powerful he couldn’t fight it.

That devious, scheming, meddling bastard.

I’m going to kill him.