CHAPTER 5

Nitiel couldn't stand the thought of what had nearly happened. He thus tried to ignore the thought, but to no avail.

His mind kept supplying the image of the female in his lap, all those soft curves pressed against his hard body, her eyes boring into his, lips slightly parted in the most inviting of ways. The weakling that he was, he had nearly kissed her. Had nearly savored the lips of the female meant for his commander.

He rumbled, unable to hide the disdain he felt for himself.

Hloe Davison shot him a startled look but said nothing. She quickly returned her gaze to the window, through which the space port was now clearly visible.

But was Nitiel watching their descent? No, he was too busy watching every reaction on the Terran's lovely face.

How in the Goddess' name was he going to pilot the ship off the planet, when his eyes were constantly drawn to the female? Once off Terra, he would engage the autopilot, but until then… This mission couldn't end fast enough.

Silence reigned in the limo during the several minutes it took them to land at the VIP parking lot. Unlike at the start of the trip, however, Hloe Davison was silent because she was busy taking in the port with an awed expression, and not because she was glued to her communication device. Nitiel actually found this silence pleasant.

As soon as the vehicle landed, he exited and stretched his wings. He usually preferred to fly medium distances himself rather than aboard a transport. Especially given how restless this mission had made him, a flight would do him good. He should go for a flight in the space station's Arboretum after he delivered his charge to Commander Siriniel.

Nitiel went to open the door for said charge, only to find her halfway out the limo.

"Lady Hloe, wait!" He quickly offered her his hand.

She raised one elegant brow but placed her hand in his. "Thank you. Who knows what would have happened had I exited the car on my own."

Was she being sarcastic? Nitiel was too busy marveling at the sight of her hand engulfed by his to care. How could someone so pale and fragile be a match for the full force of a Gaenthian male's passion? The Goddess truly worked in mysterious ways.

"Subcommander?"

The hesitant tone made Nitiel snap out of his thoughts. Only to realize he was still holding her hand.

"Forgive me, my lady." He quickly let go of her and offered her the back of his hand, forearm parallel to the ground. He gestured at the rocket-shaped building before them. "Shall we?"

She stared at his hand for a moment. Then a tiny smile touched her lips. "Well, when in Rome..." She placed her hand on top of his with a flourish and lifted her chin way up. "Lead the way, my lord."

Nitiel nearly choked, and the soldiers standing in front of them shook their wings awkwardly.

"I am no lord, Lady Hloe. That title is reserved for the head of a clan." Not a bastard who didn't even have a clan.

"Oh. Sorry."

He was surprised to hear her genuine apology. He must have looked truly distressed to her. "No need to apologize. You are new to our culture, my lady." Nitiel nodded to the soldiers to get going and began walking toward the spaceport in small strides, to allow the female to keep up. "During the flight to the space station, I will provide you with the necessary reads so that you will be well-informed of the basics for the first meeting with your fated mate."

She huffed. "I'm familiar with all the basics I need for my one and only meeting with the Commander. I'll curtsy, act all shy and innocent like a fine lady from 18th-century Europe, then ask politely to be sent back home. Because this is a mistake."

"Lady Hloe–"

"I won't be calling you lord, Subcommander, so can you do me the honors of addressing me by my name only?"

His wings tensed. "The protocol…"

"It will be just the two of us on the ship, right?"

"Yes?"

"Then the protocol is what the two of us say it is, no? We'll be parting ways afterward, so what's the harm?"

Nitiel scratched the pointed tip of his ear, his nerves getting the best of him. "It's improper, my lady."

"More improper than the two of us alone on a ship for an entire day?"

"That is not improper, my lady! I am a male of impeccable honor!... See, you are not as familiar with our culture as you claim."

She huffed again. "Fine. You're Lord Nitiel to me, then."

Goddess, help him.

"So, Lord Nitiel, your kind built this space port?"

He ground his teeth. "Yes. Though the design was adapted to fit Terran architecture and the rocket shape was chosen to honor your space flight history. It's the third biggest passenger port on this continent. The fated mates from the entire southern part of your country depart for space from here. Their visiting relatives and the humans who work for the Intergalactic Alliance off the planet also use the port."

"It's so massive and futuristic." The awe was back in her voice and in her gaze, which was taking in the thirty-storey building of silvery metal and dark-blue glass. "It's much more imposing than it looks on TV."

"It's a regular port to us. If not a bit small for our standards."

"No surprises there, given you're big all over–I mean, bigger than humans." She cleared her throat. "This must be like a train station to you: just a regular stop on your way to work."

"It is yet to become a regular stop. I've just been assigned as Commander Siriniel's representative on Terra."

Her step faltered. "Whoa, am I your first assignment?"

He nodded.

"Sheesh, and I'm making your first day at planet-side work hard, aren't I?"

She had no idea. Or at least, Nitiel hoped she had no idea how he had hardened upon her landing in his lap back in the limo.

Before he could think of a polite answer, they reached the port's entrance. The double doors of reinforced tinted glass slid open to let the four of them in.

"Huh, this looks like the ground floor of an ordinary airport," Hloe Davison muttered. "But when you look up… surprise! It's stunning."

Nitiel tried to see the interior from her point of view. The first floor was basically a large hall where documents and baggage were scanned at check-in desks. Six elevators with a panoramic view led passengers from the center of the hall to the level where their boarding gate was located. The lack of a ceiling in this central part of the building and the glass walkways connecting the elevators to every floor made it possible for one to see all the way up to the very top of the rocket. If Hloe Davison found this somewhat outdated design stunning, she was up for a big surprise on the station.

"This way, Lady Hloe." Nitiel gently guided her with his wing at her back toward one of the glass elevators. "As a fated mate, you can board right away, no security checks needed."

"Seriously? Dang, this fated mate mistake has its perks."

His wings drew in at her stubbornness. A part of him was eager to get her to her niel just so Nitiel could see the look on her face upon realizing Commander Siriniel was the male of her dreams. In most cases, the realization struck upon the first time the fated mates looked into each other's eyes. In rare cases, it took a bit longer but the powerful attraction was there from the very start, no exceptions.

"Where is he going with my suitcase?" the Terran asked as all but one of their group boarded the spacious elevator.

"Officer Burziel will make sure your baggage is secured in the cargo hold."

"What if I need something for the trip?"

"Anything you need is already aboard."

"Yeah?" She crossed her arms over her chest, accentuating the gentle swell of her breasts. "How about a change of clothes? I might get cold in space in this dress. Which you insisted I stay in."

Nitiel hadn't wanted her to change because they had wasted enough time in her apartment as it was. Now, he wanted her in that dress for an entirely different reason. One he had to squish in the bud, or else the trip would be extra hard. Literally.

"You won't get cold, Lady Hloe. The onboard temperature is regulated by an AI."

"Ha! Now that's reassuring."

He cast her an exasperated look.

A smile tugged at the corners of her pink lips. "What, Lord Nitiel? Given my luck with AIs, I'm simply mentally preparing to die a popsicle."

Hloe Davison wasn't going to die from the cold, but at this rate Nitiel feared he might die from an aneurysm.