Page 17 of Meteor Storm

“My clients are waiting,” Pek-Tol said. “Should I disappoint them or should we get you bathed and ready?”

There wasn’t much of an argument to be had. For whatever reason, I wanted Penny safe, so with a single, tense nod of my head, I agreed.

Before the day’s end, I was cleaned and my hair was braided back from my face in a manner that was basic and unimpressive. Not like I would have done myself with the proper time. Then I was given a white sarong that left little to be desired. My mostly naked body was on display for Pek-Tol’s clients as he intended. My toal kef markings were out for all to see as well as my scars. There were few, but they were prominent.

It takes a lot to make a monrian bleed. We often heal too quickly for there to be a scar left over, but the heat of a kildrek blade and a blast from a plasma rifle had definitely left their marks. One across my shoulder blade and one on my abdomen.

Pek-Tol did not usually let me cover them. Not that monrians were ashamed of battle scars and toel kef markings, but knowing who they were on display for was an insult.

I was escorted into Pek-Tol’s office first so he could approve of my appearance. He looked me up and down. It was the kind of look I’d grown up with. Even my own people scrutinized me that way, searching for imperfections that did not suit the cause, but judgement from my own kind was an honor to receive. Pek-Tol’s gaze, however, was sticky and lingering.

As he was distracted transferring credits to his account from the control screen that covered the entire surface of his desk, I took a glance at a little silver object sitting on the corner. The desk was reading it as it was everything else Pek-Tol had on it and in my brief glance, I could see it pulling human DNA from its edges and analyzing it, storing the information away with heaps of other facts that it was likely extracting.

It was Penny’s and it appeared to be filled with things I could use.

When Pek-Tol was finished receiving payment for me, he waved a long, bony finger in the air and the guards herded me onward. I left the office and was taken to an elevator that moved to an upper level. One that captives were not permitted unless requested by interested parties willing to pay. My collar hummed, a reminder that I’d feel the consequences of any unruliness if I stepped out of line. And, as always, two guards followed my every step. They’d be watching the whole ordeal along with the personal guard of the clients most likely, shock sticks and firearms at their sides.

An ornate gold door stood before me, made to look grander than it actually was. It hissed open when we arrived and inside, the room was made up like a royal chamber. Holographic walls turned the space into a tropical, outdoor villa and long strips of light blue fabric hung over a sizeable round mattress that sat on the floor full of pillows. On the mattress were two valerian women, long and slender and stretched out beside a table filled with expensive fruit.

Valerians were beautiful. The most beautiful, some said. Their skin, usually an almost translucent, color-changing landscape of heavenly hues, made them a sight, no matter what species you were. Each of the females seemed young. Their crowns were small and delicate, indicating that they were barely of breeding age. Their eyes were large and filled with colors that no other species possessed.

They both smiled at me, giggling when their eyes traced over my barely clothed body. They stood in unison, their slender forms draped in flowing, purple fabric. Both of their complexions rippled with blue and violet colors, a symbol of their nervous excitement.

“I’ve never seen one so close,” one said in Yikal, the most common tongue known across the far reaches of the galaxy. She approached me first. Her hair was wrapped up in a strange, figure-eight style on the back of her head. Her hand came up to brush my front, tracing every striation and contour. “He’s just as big and strong as I imagined.”

“Of course he is. They’re designed to be perfect.”

The other female stared, unblinking, licking her lips as her eyes drifted downward.

“Designed to be perfectly useful. But I did not think he’d be designed so handsomely.”

“Do you think all of him is as big as they say?”

“Let us see, then,” the other companion giggled, her fingers pulling the tie on the side of my sarong and prompting the fabric to fall from my hips.

She joined her friend in looking at me, linking arms with her. I stared blankly at the artificial scenery across from me as the females studied my physique. I wasn’t concerned over my size or whether or not they approved. All I was concerned about was getting through the time they paid for.

“Hmm,” the one with a loose braid pouted. “He seems disinterested.”

“Give him the tea.”

Both walked to the table filled with fruit and picked up a silver cup big enough for a single sip and walked it to me. Their expressions were mischievous and eager as one held it to my lips. That was the only time I truly looked them in the eyes and the small glimpse seemed to excite them both.

“Drink,” they said.

I gave a sideways glance to one of the shikari guards and he simply cocked his head, his finger on the activation trigger on his shock stick.

So, I took the cup from the female, and I gulped down the bitter contents. They both beamed at my willingness like it had not been forced on me and then returned to the mattress, sitting back on their hands as if to await something.

“Come here, you monster,” one said. “Let us get a better idea of how beastly you monrians really are.”

“It is forbidden for them to take a mate,” the other said, feigning a shocked gasp. “One must be approved by their clerics or priests so they do not muddy their genetics.”

“That makes it so delicious, doesn’t it? So naughty.”

My mind quickly became foggy. My blood began to race, hot and frantic. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath only to get a lungful of female arousal.

And my own.