My brother is sprawled across an obsidian divan, loose robes sliding off one shoulder, and a glass of Arcus Flare in his hand. Beside him, half-kneeling in a pose that isalmostcasual, is a woman.
She’s a high-born lady from Reima Two. I recognize the jewels braided into her hair, House Irel, one of Alba’s most powerful families. Her stunning bare breasts are accentuated by the glittering jewels that rest between them.
Lorian doesn’t move when he sees me. “Good morning, Brother. What brings you here so early andunannounced?”
I remain standing. “The Octopod Syndicate lost another shipment near the Heme Drift. Pirates,they claim. It's sloppy and insulting. Retrieve it. Make sure they understand our displeasure.”
His lips curve into a predatory smile. “Naturally. But that's not why you interrupted my morning’s entertainment, unless you came to indulge…”
“Sovereign Director,” the woman next to him purrs. “If you’re not here for pleasure, you should be.” She stands and walks toward me slowly and seductively, and when she reaches me, I let her fingers brush the side of my neck.
“Quite right, Rafe. It’s been too long since we shared a woman.”
“I would be honored,” the Reima Two woman says. Her words are elegant, practiced, and completelyexpected.
“Not today.”
Her lips twitch. “You’ve become disciplined in the wrong direction, Rafe. There are still stories about how you and Lorian…”
I interrupt her. “I’m working.”
She continues, unbothered by my statement. “I heard you tie up some of your lovers as you worship their bodies, again and again, and again.” She runs a hand suggestively down her trim grey body.
I swallow. My mind is already envisioning sharing her with Lorian, right here, right now, but I can’t. We can’t. We have work to do.
“They say you always enter a woman first, Rafe. First born, first to re-enter.”
“Stories grow,” I say.
“So does anticipation,” she says, and cups each one of her breasts.
“Sorry to disappoint you this time,” I reply.
Her eyes narrow slightly, not offended but registering the power dynamic. She’s not used to rejection from a man. But we aren’t on Reima Two. So, I don’t have to keep the same level of politeness just because she’s a woman.
“Always the colder twin,” she comments, echoing society gossip. “You really enjoy being off-planet, don’t you? I’d love to see you both try to dominate me in the bedroom. Doesn’t that challenge entice you, Rafe?”
“He’s thinking about someone else,” Lorian says, giving me a way out without being rude.
“Lorian and I have business to discuss.”
The woman walks away from us with the graceful fluidity of Reima Two’s elite. “Then I’ll leave you to your little conversation,” she says condescendingly. “I need to be back in Alba, anyway.” She puts her dress over her head and then adjusts her cloak of charcoal silk embroidered with the insignia of House Irel. Finally, she bends to kiss Lorian’s temple. “Don’t get too serious; itcan damage men’s brains, you know.” Then we both watch as she walks out, taking her perfumed scent with her.
Lorian swirls his drink. “You could’ve said yes; she wouldn’t have minded.”
“I mind,” I say, and toss a datapad onto the low table. It lights up, showing the personnel file, the playback thumbnail frozen on Eve’s parted lips mid-orgasm. “Commander Sor authorized a human companion by the name of Lyric for a performance session last night, and Eve Eden accepted.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I soundconcerned.”
“You sound like a man who’s human moaned for someone else.”
“She didn’t moan. She submitted.”
Lorian laughs and sets his drink down. “Is that better or worse, Rafe?”
I don’t answer.
