“You have nothing to be worried about, human. To be a female on the Korlyan Moon is to be treasured. So few of them remain.” His words are kind, but he keeps his eyes straight ahead and his voice neutral. Maybe he’s just trying to remain professional?
“Thanks,” I whisper.
I look back over my shoulder at my mate before we walk down the unassuming corridor for what feels like miles.
Will they keep their word? Will I see Kitaico again?
I stare at my feet as I listen to the rhythm of our steps on the shiny stone floors. Abruptly, we stop, my nose nearly smashing into the guard’s back as we do.
“What is your purpose here?” a stern voice says in front of us.
When I peek my head around my escort’s torso, I see two more guards standing post beside a large door.
“To deliver this female to the care of the jewels,” he says before stepping aside, leaving me awkwardly gawking as the two tentacled men appraise me.
“Female?” one says reverently.
“Yeah.” I nod slowly.
“Compatible?” My head pivots as the other guard speaks.
“Um…” I’m not sure how to answer that question.
“Undetermined,” my escort thankfully answers for me. “The Chancellor's orders are that she be remitted to the jewels.”
The two guards nod, stepping aside. They both turn and press some kind of key fob into the wall panels on either side of the door. There’s a clicking motion, and it slides open.
The aroma is the first thing that hits me. Sweet fruity notes and toasted incense. This place is such a contrast to the nest I’ve spent all my time in.
The view is just as opulent. This place must be as expensive as it smells. In the room, there’s a set of circled chaise lounges. Maybe fifteen, each tufted with fine fabrics in jewel tones.
And on each of those sits what I can only assume are the Jewels.
Female Andjin of all shapes and colors recline. Soft alien bodies are dripping with precious stones and gold chains. Curled between delicate head tentacles are thin gold rings. I assume their level of modesty must be akin to that of my clothing-hating mate when I see their bare chests. Everyone’s nipples are adorned with what look like rings.
If I ever make it back to Earth, I’m going to have to tell Rachel, my tattoo shop’s piercer, that aliens think nipple rings are just as hot as we do.
I realize I must be lost in awe as the guard nudges me with his knee to enter the room.
“Who is that?” one of the made-up females asks, her eyes dragging down my body judgmentally.
“Human female from Earth.” The guard pauses and looks at me.
“Hi, I’m Lena.”
19
picked apart
The stares arethe only thing that cut through the silence as the guard sneaks out the door behind me. The feeling of being sized up and appraised as less than is universal, I realize as I’m silently picked apart.
“Lena.” My name lingers on the lips of a pale chartreuse Andjin female who gracefully rises from her chaise and glides toward me.
My throat tightens, and I quickly gulp. Her commanding presence leaves no doubt that she will be the one to speak up on behalf of the group.
As she puts a hand on her hip, the stack of bangles on her wrist jingles softly.
“Are we supposed to usher you in? Are you to be fought for like the rest of us?” Her voice thankfully seems more annoyed than disgusted.
