Page 11 of Chosen By the Dragon Alien
She studied him carefully. The silence stretched between them. Her cheek twitched slightly—a tiny change—but enough to signal,maybe, the flicker of doubt in her mind. “If that’s the way the quadrant works,” she replied after a moment, her tone cold yet thoughtful, “then perhaps it’s the quadrant that needs changing.”
He dropped his hands with effort—her skin was impossibly soft—and moved back to sit on the chair opposite her. “Tell that to the females who work here, who earn credits and plan to retire in wealth and comfort. Unlike you, they were raised for this life. They know nothing else.”Heknew nothing else. “Courtiasare experts in the art of pleasure. Here, we give them safety and choice.” For years, he’d been part of the elaborate games of power and manipulation, thinking he understood every nuanceof how these dynamics worked. But confronted with Fivra’s quiet refusal to play by those rules, he realized for the first time that perhaps there was a path outside the one he had always followed—whether he liked to admit it or not.
She frowned. “I see your point. For them. But Cyprian…” She lifted her hands and let them fall. “I know what happens in these rooms. When Terian females show the gold spots and our hair changes color, we’re taught about the mating act to prepare us for bondmating. The older females tell us how to make the males complete fornication as fast as possible. With as little pain as possible.”
He frowned. “It shouldn’t be painful. It should be enjoyable.”
She shrugged, clearly unconvinced. “This is what we’re taught. Our elder females advise against doing things to make the males want to copulate more, or to draw out the process.”
Fek, no wonder she was resistant to, well,everythinghe was trying to show her. If she associated sex with pain, or at least, annoyance, the job of acourtiamust seem like torture. “That’s not at all what good sex is like.”
She met his gaze with one raised eyebrow. “Do all thecourtiashave good sex with their clients?”
“No,” he admitted. “But they do not havepainfulsex.” And if they did, that client never set foot in Erovik again. “Clients need to win over ourcourtiasin order to be granted access to their suites. It’s an honor for one like Viparia to welcome a male to her bed.”
“And you?” she asked quietly. “Does anyone welcome you totheirbed, Cyprian?”
The question nearly knocked him off the chair. He stood up abruptly, walking a few paces towards the window. Hevatica Station’s light painted half of the room in an icy glow, piercing through the room’s warm lights like a cold eye judging him from above. If she knew how much that question affected him, she’dbe shocked, at the very least. He felt her presence behind him, still seated in that impossibly composed posture. “No. I am not a client.”
“Never?” She sounded skeptical. “Viparia and Siku are so beautiful. It must be hard to be around females like that and never be tempted. Surely, they’ve been interested in you.”
He let out a garbled laugh. “It’s not as hard as you think. Thecourtiasare beautiful, but they are a lot to manage, and as for being interested in me, no. They’re not.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“Why not?” He turned and looked at her, puzzled.
“Because you’re…” She waved a hand up and down toward him. “Very attractive.”
Cyprian dragged his gaze back to the illuminated station beyond the window as he grappled with the turn of the conversation. She thought he was attractive. Attractive enough to draw the gaze of one of Erovik’scourtias. “There is a hard rule within these walls,” he explained with a tight throat. “Management does not touch thecourtias,and thecourtiasdo not seduce management.” Turning back to Fivra, he dragged in a ragged breath and forced away the thoughts of Fivra in his bed. Whether either of them liked it or not, she was acourtiain training. She wasnothis. Would never be his.
If only his body would listen.
She met his gaze steadily, even as color crept into her cheeks. “I see.”
“Good.” He clasped his hands behind his back so she couldn’t see the claws that threatened to extend. “Your resistance to the ways of Erovik is understandable, but you will pick up on the tools you need and learn in time. We are throwing a party of sorts for our regular clients two cycles from now. I want you to attend—notas acourtia—but as an observer, to see howinteractions work between clients andcourtias. I will make it clear that you are not available.”
Her face went blank. “What do I have to do?”
“Mingle,” he replied. “Talk to those who approach you. Watch the othercourtias.”
Her brows furrowed. “You’ll be there?”
“Of course. I’m the host.” Cyprian reached out and tucked back a lock of pink hair. It was impossibly soft, just like her skin. “I will keep a close eye on you.”Very close.
She looked pinched. Her hands knotted together. “You promise?”
“Yes.”Fek, yes.Anyone who touched her would be expelled from Erovik so fast, his head would spin. “Let’s put these lessons aside for now,” he said. “I can see we will not get far today, and I’m not one to beat a dead bot.” He offered her a small, wry smile, hoping to ease some of the tension that crackled in the air between them.
Fivra’s posture relaxed ever so slightly, the barest hint of relief showing in her eyes. “So, we’re done?”
“For now.” He nodded, crossing the room to settle back into the plush chair opposite her. The soft hum of the station’s lifeblood pulsed around them in time to the thick beat of his heart, which was sendingfartoo much blood to his cock to keep his head clear. It was time to change the subject. “But I’m curious. Tell me more about your previous world. I’m curious about this overseer,” he said, leaning back and fixing her with an intent look. “I’ve never met another Zaruxian, and yet, here you are, speaking of one as if they were commonplace.”
Fivra’s gaze dropped to her hands, which were folded in her lap. “The overseer… He is a figure of authority and protection in our settlement.” Her voice was quiet with the weight of memory. “He’s the one who communicates with the Axis, who mediates disputes, and who ensures we meet our crop quotas.”
“Crop quotas?” Cyprian echoed, his interest piqued. This was the first he’d heard of such a system in the penal colonies. It made sense that the Axis would try to squeeze as much resources from their inmates as possible. It was a veryAxisthing to do.
“Yes,” Fivra continued, her gaze distant as she recalled her past life. “We are required to provide a certain amount of produce to the Axis at regular intervals. If we fall short…” She trailed off for a moment before beginning again, her voice barely above a whisper. “We receive fewer resources of food, medicine, tools. Our fathers are afraid of the Axis. They have to be. The Axis doesn’t tolerate failure, and yet we never produce enough to please them.” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if the memory of those harsh times sent a chill through her bones.
