Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Lomax

I had never seen a drunk Draax before.

And I saw a lot of Draax. A girl didn’t do what I did to get the juice without seeing a lot of Draax up close and personal.

Very close.

I inched a little nearer. I hadn’t expected to see the massive Draax from the night before at the bar again tonight. I definitely hadn’t expected him to be drunk off his piehole and surrounded by three - I squinted - make that four women who were hanging off his bulging biceps and sitting on his tree trunk thighs.

I recognized all of them. We traveled in the same circles, so to speak. Desperate women hitting the bars every night, willing to do or suck anything to get some gallberry juice to save themselves or their loved ones.

“Another of these disgusting drinks, barkeep!” The Draax roared, slamming his beer stein on the table in front of him. The usual emerald colour of his skin was flushed a dark green from the beer, making the thin white scar from below his left eye to just above his lip stand out in stark relief. The women shied away, mistaking his enthusiasm for beer as anger. They didn’t have translators like I did. Most of them had been lowers their entire lives.

The Draax tugged two of the women back into his lap. “Come, little females. I like the feel of your soft asses against my cock.”

I rolled my eyes and slipped into an empty seat at the bar. I scanned the bar. It was full of Draax tonight, and I would have my choice of who to sleep with, assuming they were willing to trade.

The bartender didn’t bother to take my drink order. He knew I wouldn’t have any money, knew I was here for one thing only. I used to be ashamed of that. Now, I was too tired to be ashamed.

I scanned the bar. Not that I thought the Draax from last night would be here again, but maybe I would get lucky. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Sigan, and I swallowed my disappointment. Last night had been an anomaly, a blip in the regularly scheduled programming of my life. Getting gallberry juice without having to fuck for it was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and that moment for me was last night. The fact that it’d been primo gallberry juice was just the icing on the cake.

This was the best I’d felt in weeks, and while I probably didn’t need to be out tonight, why not take advantage of how good I felt? I could save whatever juice I got tonight for when I was too weak or exhausted to fuck. Which, frankly, was happening more and more often.

The last few times, I’d had to stop halfway through the sex, my heart skipping beats, my chest tight, and too short of breath and dizzy to continue without a break. The Draax so far had been understanding, but what happened the first time I fucked one who wasn’t so patient? I probably wouldn’t be the first woman to die of a heart attack while fucking a Draax, but I didn’t exactly relish the idea.

As if to remind me why I was here and to get on with the fucking program, my heart skipped a couple of beats. I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling my heartbeat in my ears and my chest getting tight.

I took a couple of calming breaths. Not that breathing deep would heal aortic valve disease, but what else could I do? Besides fuck the Draax for juice, that is.

The high-pitched squeals drew my attention back to the drunk Draax. He had his tongue down one of the women’s throats, and her hand was down his pants and jacking him with hard, brisk strokes.

Newbie mistake. You never gave them the good stuff, like handjobs or blowjobs, until they gave you at least a few swallows of juice. She wasn’t new to this, but maybe she was as drunk as the Draax. Usually, the Draax wouldn’t go near us if they even suspected we might be drinking, but it’s not like the drunk Draax was thinking clearly.

I looked away. Even a few feet away, the tent pole the Draax sported in his pants nearly poked my eye out. The women were in for one hell of a ride.

Better them than you.

Wasn’t that the truth. I sometimes struggled to take Draax dick, and more than once, I’d be forced to grit my teeth and insist that no, it was fine, it didn’t hurt at all, keep going, you sexy alien stud.

I took one last look at the drunk Draax before turning away. No amount of juice was worth death by giant Draax dong. I’d rather go out the way God intended me to go… randomly dropping dead of a sudden heart attack.

A Draax sat on the stool beside me. He wore a plain cotton shirt with black pants and, unlike many of the Draax, didn’t carry a sword at his side. He did, however, have the tell-tale bulge of a juice flask in his pocket. He looked me up and down, and I pushed my arms together to give my cleavage a boost and smiled at him.

“Hi. I’m Lomax. What’s your name, handsome?”

* * *

Tonight was turning out to be a bust. There wasn’t a single Draax in the bar willing to trade some juice for sex. Scratch that. I couldn’t find one who was interested in trading juice for sex with me . Plenty of the women had found their alien for the night and disappeared to the numerous cheap hotels that littered the area like dead bugs on a windowsill.

I stared at myself in the dirty, spotted bathroom mirror. I had the body type the Draax loved, and while my looks had never stopped traffic or anything, I didn’t usually have trouble finding a Draax. In fact, my translator usually meant I was one of the first of us to snag an alien.

They know you’re sick. They can smell it on you.

I ignored my inner voice. They couldn’t tell just by looking at me, and while the Draax had many skills that humans didn’t, smelling an illness wasn’t one of them. Besides, they didn’t care about that. Half the women banging the Draax for juice were sick and the other half? They had loved ones who were ill or dying.

I pinched my cheeks to bring a little colour to them, adjusted my tits in my tight shirt and took a deep breath. I still had a few hours before the bar closed. I could do this.

I left the bathroom, dismayed to realize there were even fewer Draax now than five minutes ago. Christ, it was getting to be slim pickings and -

“Hey, gorgeous, how the fuck are you tonight?”

I closed my eyes and sighed loudly before turning. “Hello, Mitchell.”

The skinny blond man with thinning hair grinned at me, poking his tongue into the space where his two front teeth should have been. “You look good tonight, sweetheart. How’s the ticker?”

“Fine,” I said shortly. “What do you want?”

Most of the women who fucked the Draax worked freelance like me. But having a translator equaled a better chance of hooking up with a Draax, and some of the more desperate ladies turned to Mitchell. He got them translators, although half of them malfunctioned most of the time, and set up “dates” for the women with the Draax in exchange for a cut of the juice.

In short, he was a goddamn parasite who preyed on women when they were at their most vulnerable.

He sidled up to me, his greasy fingers fingering a lock of my dark hair. “When are you gonna come work for me, Lomax?”

“Why would I do that?” I asked. “I have a translator. I don’t need the black market, barely functioning translators you stick in your girls.”

His fingers touched behind his ear and the base of his throat before he scowled. “My translators work real good.”

“Yours does. But sure as shit, you aren’t putting the good ones in the women. Do you think I didn’t hear about Angie? You stuck that second-rate translator in her brain, and it gave her a stroke. She’s in a fucking coma right now.”

He made a sucking sound with his teeth, his face turning into a scowl. “You’re such an uppity bitch, Lomax. You think a translator is all I got to offer to my girls?”

“Yes,” I said.

“You’re wrong. I hook my girls up with the Draax who got the good juice, baby.”

He moved even closer, and I grimaced when he tapped my chest with his dirty finger. “You’re looking paler and weaker every time you hit up this hellhole bar, sweetheart. You ain’t got much time left, and that watered down juice you fuck the Draax for just ain’t gonna cut it. You and I both know it.”

“Get the fuck away from me.” I pushed him away, my chest tightening at my surge of adrenaline. I tried to breathe slowly and evenly as Mitchell made a kissy face at me before winking.

“You come see me anytime, sweetheart. We’ll talk.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

He swaggered away, and I pressed my hand against my chest. I hated that fucking pimp asshole, but I hated even more that he was right. I was running out of time. But fuck him, I’d rather drop dead than ever do business with a low life asshole like -

My beleaguered heart kicked up a notch when I saw the Draax sitting at the bar. Holy fuck, could I be that lucky? I hurried past the tables and slid onto the stool beside him, breathless and my heart working overtime from just that extra effort.

He glanced at me, and while he didn’t smile, he gave me a silent nod of acknowledgment before staring at the amber liquid in his glass.

“Hi. Sigan, right? We met last night. I’m Lomax.”

“I remember,” he said. “You are one of the little females who trades sex for juice.”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, yes, that’s right.”

“I will not give you juice for sex tonight, just as I refused to last night,” Sigan said. “It is illegal, and if your Earth authorities catch you, you will be punished, little human.”

Disappointment laced my chest, but I gave him a flirtatious smile and leaned forward so my cleavage was on display. “I know. I just find you so handsome that I can’t resist talking with you.”

He gave me a look that made me wilt. “I am aware that I am far inferior in looks compared to most of my kind, human. Please do not infuse smoke in my ass.”

“The phrase is blow smoke up my ass,” I said with a grin. “And I like the way you look.”

While it was true that Sigan might not have been as good looking as many of the Draax were - if you found giant, muscular green aliens with tails good looking and a shockingly large number of us ladies did - I liked the uniqueness of his features.

He just shrugged. “Complimenting me will not get you into my bed. Even if I were a rakart who chose to disobey my king’s command by trading juice for sex, I am not attracted to you.”

“Ouch,” I said.

He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my face. “You are not unattractive, but my body does not react to yours.”

“Hey, I don’t make your dick hard, I get it,” I said.

“Yet, you still hope I may change my mind,” Sigan said. “I can see it in your face.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I said.

He frowned. “The juice I gave you last night did not help?”

“Oh no, it did,” I said. “It was great. I’m pretty sure I’ve never had gallberry juice that hasn’t been watered down. So, thanks.”

“You are welcome,” Sigan said. He was still studying his drink but hadn’t taken a sip.

“You’re not drinking your drink,” I said. Maybe if I got Sigan even a little tipsy like the giant scarred Draax who had quieted but was still sitting in the corner and being fondled aggressively by the four women, I could convince him to give me more juice.

My mouth watered at even the thought of the juice. The constant craving I felt for it was a maddening itch in my brain, almost as horrible as feeling my heart skip beats and my chest go tight. The craving was a side effect of drinking the juice when you were ill. Once you’d tasted it, your body demanded more until it healed.

Unfortunately, I needed a fuck of a lot of juice to heal my heart and the flasks of watered down juice I managed to scrounge up a few times a week would never get the job done. So, I lived in a constant state of longing for the juice.

But what choice did I have? I could crave the juice, or I could die.

“I do not like the taste,” he said.

“If you’re not here to get laid or to drink, why are you here?” I asked.

“I am attending a conference your kind is doing on human healing,” Sigan said.

“But why? Your magic gallberry juice heals everything,” I said.

He shrugged. “I enjoy learning new things, and my king encourages it.”

“What Draax province are you from?” I asked.

“The west one, obviously,” he said with a frown. “We protect the California state. Therefore, the Draax that come here are from the western province. Draax from other provinces are not allowed to visit states that are not under their protection.”

“Buddy, a good three-quarters of the Draax in this bar are from different provinces.”

He gave me a sharp look. “How do you know that?”

I shrugged. “I ask, they tell me. Nine times out of ten, a Draax that I… hang out with is from the eastern province.”

His nostrils flared, and his fingers tightened around his glass of booze. “I should not be surprised by this.”

I squinted my forehead in thought. “You know, now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever fucked, I mean, spent time with, a Draax from the western province.”

“You would not have,” Sigan said shortly. “We do not trade juice for sex.”

“I’m sure there’s at least one or two who do,” I said. He gave me a look, and I quickly said, “Or probably not. I’m sure you’re all very, uh, loyal to your king and his demands.”

He turned on the stool and looked me over. “What illness do you have that forces you to barter sex for juice?”

“Bad ticker,” I said, knocking on my chest.

“I assume you were tested and are not breeding compatible with our kind then?” Sigan asked.

“I’m one of the unlucky thirty percent who aren’t,” I said. “So, signing a breeding contract and popping out one of your kids in exchange for some juice isn’t happening.”

“Are you a,” he paused, seeming to search for the word, “lower? Is that why you cannot afford the necessary medical treatment?”

“I used to be a middle,” I said. “I had a nice cushy job with good pay and benefits, but then I got sick, and they fired me under some bullshit pretense that they were making cutbacks, but it was really because they didn’t want to deal with me and my life-threatening disease. Without a job, my medical bills quickly bankrupted me. So, now I’m a lower.”

“Why do you have a translator?” Sigan asked.

“My previous job required one, and they don’t remove them even if you’re fired or let go,” I said.

“You dealt with Draax in your previous job?” Sigan asked.

“Yes,” I said but didn’t elaborate.

Sigan studied me for a few minutes. “Are you homeless? My research indicates that many lowers are homeless.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I couldn’t get a job doing what I did before. No one in my social class would hire someone who could suddenly drop dead in her cubicle, but I work at a convenience store. It pays enough that I can live in this shitty neighbourhood in an apartment the size of a postage stamp and buy enough food to not starve to death, but it doesn’t cover any medical care.”

I hated the pity in Sigan’s gaze and planted a wide smile on my face. “So, I fuck Draax for the juice. I’m really good at it, by the way.”

I rested my hand on Sigan’s thick thigh, rubbing gently. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind about sleeping with me? I’m discreet, and it won’t bother me if you want to keep your eyes closed the whole time and picture someone you find attractive.”

Ugh. I hated how desperate I sounded, but Sigan had the premium juice, and if I was careful, if I doled it out in small enough increments and supplemented it with the other watered-down stuff I’d get, it might be enough to keep me going for another few months.

A few months? It’ll help keep you alive for a month. If you’re lucky. You’re one brisk walk from dying, Lomax, even with the juice. You know that, right?

Of course I fucking knew it. But I was only twenty-five, and I didn’t want to die. Even if my life was shitty and sad and everyone I believed cared for me had abandoned me, I still didn’t want to die.

“No,” Sigan said. “I will not change my mind.”

I took my hand off his leg, disappointment gutting me like a sharp knife to the abdomen. “All right. Have a good night, Sigan.”

Before I could slide off the stool and try my luck with another Draax, Sigan said, “Wait, little human.”

He reached into his pocket, and my mouth watered again when he pulled out a silver flask and held it out to me. “Take this.”

I snatched it from him with the greed of a woman dying of thirst in the desert. I quickly tucked it out of sight in my purse. “Thank you, Sigan. Truly.”

“You are welcome, human.”

He had pity in his gaze again, but I didn’t care. Not when I now had an entire flask of gallberry juice in my purse and another one a quarter full at home.

“Sigan? Aiden and I would like to leave. Like last night, the little females in this bar are not interested in fucking unless we give them juice.” A second Draax joined us. His thick dark hair was cut shorter than Sigan’s, and he had brown eyes instead of silver like Sigan’s. He also carried a sword and had a king’s guard crest on his sleeve.

He eyed me up and down with an appreciative look that made me flush a little. “Unless you have found one?”

“No, Thromi,” Sigan said. “She will not fuck you without juice.”

“Oh.” The hopeful look turned to disappointment. “Sigan, will you leave with us to find another drinking establishment?”

“Yes.” Leaving his drink untouched, Sigan slid off his stool.

“Try the The Oasis bar. It’s only a few miles away, but it’s in a much better neighbourhood, and you’re more likely to find women who won’t ask for juice for a fun night with a Draax,” I said.

Thromi gave me a delighted grin. “Thank you, small human. We will try our luck there.”

He turned and waved at a third Draax before shouting, “Aiden, come. I know of a new place to visit.”

Sigan glanced at me before turning to his friend. “Thromi, give me your flask.”

“What? Why?” Thromi asked.

“Just do it,” he said.

Thromi handed him the flask from his pocket, and Sigan held it out to me. My eyes wide, I took it from him.

“That is my favourite flask, Sigan,” Thromi said.

“For Krono’s sake, the flask is available at every corner store in our city,” Sigan said irritably. “You can buy another.”

Thromi grumbled but didn’t ask for the flask back. Just watched me tuck it into my purse with the other one. My hands shook, and I was tempted to hug Sigan like he’d saved my life.

Of course, he had saved my life, at least for another few months.

The third Draax joined us. His copper eyes studied me as I stared at the king’s guard crest on his shirt sleeve and the sword around his waist.

“Aiden, give me your gallberry juice,” Sigan said.

The Draax glanced at him. “Do you not have your own?”

“Give it to me,” Sigan repeated, his long tail with the tuft of black hair at the end flicking agitatedly in the air.

He handed it over, and Sigan pressed it into my hands. “Take this as well, human.”

My hands still shaking, I added it with the other two in my bag.

“Thank you, Sigan,” I said, my voice hoarse with emotion.

“You are welcome.” He studied me for a moment longer. “I wish you luck, small human. May the goddess Krono shine her light upon you.”

He walked away without looking back.