“If you want to leave so bad, be my guest!” I let my voice boom, her absolute f’teeing insolence firing me up.
“I will!” She stomps into the bedroom, never turning her eyes to the windows. She flings the door open with gusto—but she is unable to avoid the view of the ocean from the ballroom’s ceiling. Her escape attempts are seemingly dashed as she grips the frame of the door, and her knees begin to buckle.
My anger at her stubbornness changes so quickly to protectiveness that I don’t even feel my feet as they move. I reach her in record time, putting my hand neatly in the small of her back before she crumples any further to the ground.
Just then, my butler steps in front of the door, a floating cart overflowing with food in front of him.
The elderly fi’len male’s eyebrow raises, giving me a simultaneously judgmental yet confused look.
“Dinner, Your Grace, as requested.”
Marta clings to me, as if by sheer necessity. Her fingers leave blue marks on my forearms.
I pull us from the doorway and deposit my mate back into the dressing room, closing the door behind me.
“I wasn’t aware you wereentertaining…” Jens’i side-eyes me as he moves the abundance of food to the table in the parlor area of my room.
“I’m not.”
“Ah, well, what are we doing with the human woman in one of your best dressing gowns, currently locked in the closet?” He lifts one hand elegantly toward the room I’ve shut Marta in.
“I…I’m helping a human refugee.” I stumble over my words.
“Ah.” His tone is condescending, but only in a way my practiced ear would hear.
“I’d appreciate it, Jens’i, if you could keepherpresence a secret for the time being.” I keep my voice low on the off chance she can hear me through the door.
“Is this situation something I need to contact the royal attorney for?” He inclines his head to me.
“Gra’eth? Absolutely not!” That’s the last person I need knowing about my “guest.”
“Well, do promise me you’ll let me know should anything here escalate to the point we’ll need to address the optics?”
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” I growl as I lift the lid off of a steaming tray of sq’aurks. The pastel puff balls wriggle around as they’re eaten alive. The steam coming from their body temperature is akin to their volcanic homes.
“I think it’s best that you don’t bring up the human unless I do going forward.” I can’t tell if it’s some protective part of my mating bond or not wanting to get caught with Marta—maybe it’s some combination of the two that’s putting me on edge.
Jens’i nods in acknowledgment as he bows. He walks backward to the doorway before turning as a sign of respect for my position.
“Jens’i?”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“I’m serious, not a word.”
My butler raises a brow but nods. When he leaves, I rush to the dressing room doors to check on Marta.
She’s back to sitting on the ground, nursing the thru’ik. She looks up at me, tears threatening to spill over her lashes.
“How am I going to have a life here if I can’t even leave this fucking closet? I want to go home!”
CHAPTER5
?A TASTE SENSATION?
?MARTA
“What part of ‘no’are you not picking up?” I don’t stop Raf’ere when he snatches the bottle of alien booze out of my palm. I can already feel myself getting sloppy, sad-girl drunk. The alcohol doesn’t have the telltale burn that the high-proof stuff has on Earth—I fear that I may have slipped past sober with little warning.
