Chapter 1

Gravon winded through the empty corridors of the Imperial Nirum, making sure his impressive ship was prepared for the journey ahead. Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, his latest travels for "exploratory purposes" had been little more than an attempt at brief respite from the overwhelming duties he faced as the newly appointed king of Nirum.

He needed a break to ease his troubled mind, even if he had to pretend the trip served some indecipherable political purpose for his people. As king, everything was expected to be for his people.

"Like it would be the worst thing in the world to admit I wanted a vacation," he muttered when he was sure no one could overhear.

Just an hour ago, the ship had buzzed with dock workers loading food and supplies for the return trip to Nirum, but now that everything appeared to be in place, most of them had dispersed to other jobs around the space station. Only his personal and trusted servants remained, though Gravon had no complaints about the relatively peaceful state of things.

"What else does His Majesty require?" A voice at Gravon's back filled the silence he had embraced.

So much for getting some quiet to myself.

The time Gravon had to himself had come and gone in the blink of an eye, the way it perpetually seemed to, since assuming the throne at the death of his father eight moons ago. Gravon had been raised as the heir apparent and thought he was prepared for the position, but the way it had rattled his brain over the past few moons had him beginning to suspect there was no such thing as truly being ready to rule over an entire planet.

He hadn't even had the time to grieve his father properly, though he tried not to think about that too much. Truthfully, some would probably say this trip was to address that buried need, but Gravon chose to ignore them.

He swallowed his annoyance at having his solitude breached and turned to his head servant, Jakam. Jakam was a Niri who had served his father for many years. Though he had no political education, Jakam was a very useful advisor when it came to kingly behavior, and Gravon typically found his presence soothing.

Just not today, when he wanted to be left alone.

"I don't know yet, Jakam," he admitted. "I'd like to personally take an inventory and make sure nothing is missing. Then I think we'll be ready to depart. Why don't you relax for a moment. Make sure your personal effects are stored properly and you're prepared for liftoff."

Jakam frowned, his scaled face wrinkling with uncertainty. "Your Highness, are you sure you wouldn't like to delegate that to the help? Ekra's been checking things off as everything is loaded. Would you like me to look at the log for you? I can have everything double-checked, if that makes you feel better. You shouldn't be doing this yourself. You are the king, sire."

Heat rose in Gravon's throat, and he faked a cough to mask his exasperation. His staff was well-trained and reliable. After all, only the best served the king. But the suffocating tedium of constantly watching cogs turn in a well-oiled machine was beginning to drive Gravon mad. Why couldn't he check his own ship? By the goddess, why couldn't he pilot it without someone assuring him they had a worker for that task?

What the heill did Gravon need his hands for these days? He didn't regret his fate at being born into the royal family, not really. But lately, he had found himself craving normalcy despite his limited exposure to such a thing as a member of the ruling group. His brain was taxed to the breaking point, and he craved the order of being locked in the hull simply counting boxes of dried food.

Gravon knew he could never admit these things out loud. No one would understand, and there was a good chance they would use his words against him. Just another way that becoming the king had added to his loneliness.

"I'll take care of it, Jakam." Gravon took a cold tone with his head servant. He didn't mean to vent his frustrations on Jakam, but he could not help it at the moment.

"Your Majesty, are you sure?" Jakam kept his head bowed.

Gravon paused, training his slitted yellow eyes on the other Niri. The words that came out of him next did not seem like his own, shocking even himself.

"Did you ask my father this many questions, Jakam? Perhaps you'd like to join him. Maybe he could use your company right now."

Jakam backed away, a frightful look flashing in his eyes. Gravon almost felt bad, knowing the Niri did not truly deserve what he said, but he stood by his words, not backing down. He would not give off the notion that he was weak. No, not at such a vulnerable time as this. This was the time to keep his deadly reputation, not tarnish it by appearing soft.

"I apologize, Your Majesty. I did not mean to offend." Jakam quickly turned and slithered away without another word.

Alone again, Gravon glanced around before winding his way through the corridors once more as he headed to the cargo hold. His only hope was that no one else tried to bother him on his way. He wasn't sure he could control his anger if anyone else were to question his actions.

Thankfully, he was able to arrive without running into anyone. He began surveying the storage areas, checking that everything he requested was present.

Gravon knew anyone could do this job, and it didn't necessarily need to be done. He couldn't explain why he felt the urge to do it regardless. Maybe it was his need for control.

He checked the crates, making sure his personal belongings were there along with the food he had requested. All appeared to be in order so far.

But as Gravon got farther into the cargo hold, something felt off. Very off. It was foreign to him. He wasn't sure what, but his green scales were uneasy, rippling in anticipation.

Of what?

He did not know.

He breathed in while also flicking out his tongue to taste the air. He listened intently, concentrating all of his senses. One sense in particular blared a repeating alarm in his brain.

A scent like no other hit him. It was strong, but there was more to it than simply strength. He closed his eyes and breathed more of it in, trying to place it from memory, but he couldn't. It was intoxicating. Alluring.

Delicious.

Gravon's eyes snapped open, and he looked around the space, a fierceness in his gaze that had not been there a moment ago. He knew whatever this was, it wasn't coming from the cargo itself. At least, not from the things they had packed at his request.

He slithered forward, toward the end of the storage area. The scent grew stronger the further he moved until it was almost unbearable. Gravon stopped when he got to the end wall. He narrowed his eyes and stared straight forward.

Someone was in here with him—someone trying not to be found. That much he knew. He turned his head to the left and then to the right. No. Right was wrong.

Somebody was definitely present somewhere on his left side. He could feel them. Sense them. Practically taste them, and his fangs ached. He flicked out his tongue, following that sensual aroma and flavors.

Gravon wasted no time whipping around, searching everywhere until his eyes landed on a small framed being pressed up against the wall between two stacks of crates. He dashed forward and grabbed the creature, swiftly pulling it out from its hiding place.

A high-pitched shriek pierced the air, stunning his earholes for a moment, but the sound was gone almost before it started as the light brown eyes of the being stared at him. No, not simply a being, but a human. Her eyes were as wide as could be, and along with the potent, delicious scent he now knew was coming from her, he also smelled her fear. Great fear.

He wanted to be angry, to dispose of this creature for daring to enter his vessel without permission. But as he stared at her heartbreakingly beautiful face and dark skin framed with wild, curly dark brown hair, he couldn't bring himself to move. Instead, he set her down, dropping his hands, but staying in place, unwilling to back away.

"Who are you?" Gravon demanded.

Her lips quivered, and he could hear her heart beating faster by the second. As they stared at each other, he found it hard to focus on the answers he needed from her with that sweet aroma wafting up from her and into his nose. He also needed to get control of his tongue, which writhed within his mouth, anxious for another sampling of her flavors.

"I… my name is Nimaria."

Gravon scented the lie as soon as it left her lips. He narrowed his eyes at her and leaned in close—a mistake on his part. Her scent only got stronger, and he forced his head back before he forgot what he intended to say.

"You lie." He hissed, errant tongue sneaking out to taste the air. "What is it really?"

Her mouth dropped open in shock. She sputtered before squeezing her eyes shut and then looking back up at him. "Azha. My name is Azha."

Truth. That much he knew.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"Because I don't want to go back to… them."

This piqued his interest. He had to know more. "Who are you hiding from?"

For a moment, Azha looked as if she might not answer him. She clearly did not trust him, and why would she? Still, he waited for her to speak. Determined. Immovable.

"The Jorvlens."

"And why would they want you?" Gravon narrowed his eyes.

"Because I am their slave. I belong to them."

I belong to them.

The words echoed in Gravon's earholes, and something about them didn't sit right with him. His possessive nature took over, and he couldn't stop himself. His tongue lashed out toward her, stopping just before it touched her face. It flicked in the air, not quite making contact but tasting her all the same.

Azha flinched, but she held still. The scent of fear was still there, unwilling to fade.

He retracted his tongue before opening his mouth to speak. "How long have they possessed you?"

"Since I was born."

An eternity, then. "And you wish to escape them?"

"Yes."

"And you chose my ship as a way to do so?"

"I… I can leave. I will leave. I apologize."

Azha moved, but before she could get far, Gravon's tail whipped out to stop her, holding her back by her waist. He could feel her curves against his muscled tail, and this did not help the wakening desire coursing through his body and heading straight for his mating pouch.

"You will not leave," he informed her.

He knew that harboring a lost slave in his ship could result in trouble, but he did not care. A king held more power and sway than the Jorvlen scum who called Noxxa a home base.

Besides, she chose to shield herself within his ship. His. He could not let go of this thought, and something told him that letting her go back to the Jorvlens would result in far worse than if he were seen showing sympathy for this slave.

"How did you get away from them?"

Azha opened her mouth to answer, but she paused, eyeing Gravon as if she wasn't sure she could trust him. She would learn she could trust him with everything. "I triggered a false alarm on their ship. When they were distracted, I was able to sneak out."

At that moment, Gravon decided her fate. The sheer bravery of this girl would've been enough alone for him to grant her this, but coupled with that overwhelming scent of her that seemed to draw him in, there was no question about it.

He would hide her on the Imperial Nirum and bring her back to his planet.

"Get back in your hiding spot and stay here. I will return for you," he told her.

Without waiting to see if she obeyed, he darted past her, out of the cargo bay and through the corridors until he reached an exit to the ship. He slithered outside, surveying everyone who passed.

As he stood watch, he spotted a group of Jorvlens nearby. He eased forward ever so slowly, using the crowd to his advantage as he slowly extended his body's hood and opened his mouth, fangs dripping venom. Unfortunately, as soon as they saw his flared hood and fangs, they scurried off. They knew exactly who he was and what he could do to them with his venom should he choose.

Gravon was the deadliest Niri alive today. No one would interfere with his decision to keep the girl.

Not even her.