The Iriduan’s Mate by Susan Trombley

Twelve

Molly wanted to kiss Shulgi again as she watched him pick up his pistol from the desk and reattach it to his armor at his hip. She hadn’t stopped wanting to kiss him since they’d broken from their last kiss.

She wasn’t sure she would ever stop wanting to feel his lips on hers. Their time together had been far too brief, and though her body buzzed with her pleasure from their encounter, she also felt the return of the hollowness as he readied himself to leave the office.

He’d signed the contract. She’d gotten what she’d set out to get. In the process, she’d also enjoyed sex in a way she never had before, finding her own pleasure in the alien body of her partner. Yet, at the end of it all, he still had to leave, and she still had to stay and play her role.

When he’d offered to take her away from here, she’d been so tempted she’d trembled with her desire to say yes. Even though she knew better.

She knew how these things worked.

Still, she eagerly tilted her head back when he finished dressing and arming himself, then lowered his head to claim her lips in a kiss that told her his hunger had no more abated than her own. After a long, breathless moment where they seemed almost as connected as they had been while he was inside her, he finally stepped back and reattached his mask around his head.

Though she could no longer see the lower half of his face, his eyes still seemed to burn as they met hers. They weren’t black any longer, but the green shade of them glittered with the intensity of his desire. He was so beautiful, so perfect, that she knew he was too good to be true.

Reminding herself of that was the only way she could say goodbye to him without begging him to take her with him. He hesitated at the door, almost as if he hoped she’d ask him to stay, but then he finally bid her farewell, promising to contact her the following business cycle before stalking through the opening doors.

Molly slumped into the chair behind the desk as the doors slid closed after he’d passed through them. She flicked the console screen, bringing up video feed from the lobby so she could watch him leave the building, then used the other cameras’ feeds to track him back to the cargo elevator that led to the dreg.

It was only after he stepped into the elevator with the armored Iriduan guards, and the door closed to shut off her view of him that she finally rose on shaking legs from her chair. The fabric of her dress was soaked from his seed that had spilled from her after she’d cleaned up the initial gush of it.

She wasn’t worried about getting pregnant. She never had to worry about that, as she’d been sterilized as soon as she’d been purchased by the brothel. Dreams of having children of her own hadn’t even had a chance to form before they’d been killed off permanently.

And the dream of escaping this life and finding a new, happier one had also died long ago. Shulgi wasn’t the first of her clients to ask her to come away with him. He wasn’t the first male she’d been with who’d made her feel a connection—and a painfully vulnerable hope. She’d once believed that another would save her from the hell of her enslavement.

Yet, he’d turned out to be just as she now knew most people were. Too good to be true. He hadn’t really loved her. He’d just been caught up in the moment, promising to take her away with him, when he’d had no intention of following through. She’d found that out later when she’d approached him with a plan for how he could help her escape the brothel and then leave the planet on his ship. She’d daydreamed that they could be together forever.

He’d put her down as gently as he could, she supposed, though her heart had been broken when she’d realized that he’d been roleplaying with her like he was a caring lover, but he still saw her as nothing but a product.

That was the last time she’d ever allowed “hope” in, though she hadn’t been completely immune to others who played the role of concerned lover, and her heart had been bent a few more times after him.

The problem with Shulgi was that she’d felt so strongly for him from the very first moment, and her feelings were only growing in that direction. With the others, her attachment had grown over multiple visits from them, as they’d been regulars of hers. She’d never been initially attracted to them.

“Is it safe now?” Jenice asked wryly, her voice echoing from the console’s speakers.

Molly sighed heavily, then chuckled as she shook her head. “We got the contract.”

“Honey, I figured that much. I assume he’s gone?”

Molly nodded, touching her tingling lips as she recalled their parting kiss. “He’s gone. I’m going to take the fact that you weren’t sure as proof that none of you were watching the show.”

“It’s been recorded for blackmail purposes, if necessary, but none of us brought up the feed to watch,” Jenice promised.

Molly frowned as she swept her hand over the console, sending it and the partnering one on the other side of the desk back into the desktop. “Honestly, Jenice, don’t you think that’s a little….”

“Mol, you know we record it every time. Hey,” her tone sounded concerned, “you want to talk about it, hon?”

“Later.” Molly stepped towards the inner sanctum doors which slid open at her approach.

To her relief, neither Jenice nor the two Ultimen were around, giving her the privacy to retreat to the bathroom to clean herself up, then change.

During her shower, she touched her body where Shulgi had touched her, recalling with the return of her arousal the way his hands had skimmed over her skin, the way his mouth had kissed along her neck, then sucked her nipple, the way his feelers had trailed along her thighs. She shivered as she brought herself to another climax. Then she flattened her palms on the black obsidian tiles of the shower, tears leaking from her eyes to blend with the water droplets pouring down over her head as she bumped her forehead against the cool glass between her palms.

She could live with having no hope. She’d lived that way for so long. It was only when she started hoping for more that her life became unbearable, and each moment was a struggle.

Once she left the tube of the dryer and dressed in her lounging clothes—which Jenice called “jammies”—she made her way to the sitting area of the sanctum. She smiled hesitantly when she saw Jenice seated on the couch, her eyes lifting from a tablet in her lap that probably had a book on it.

“Hey there.” She smiled encouragingly, but Molly saw the solemnity in her eyes.

Jenice didn’t like what Molly and the other “flowers” had to do. She’d tried her hand at it a couple of times and had been so emotionally traumatized by it that Molly had insisted she never put herself through that again. They’d all decided that Jenice should be responsible for the business side of things instead.

Prior to their escape from the brothel, Jenice’s short stint as a slave had been difficult. She’d never made it to the actual clients, because Uthagol and her minions were still trying to break Jenice’s will in order to make her more obedient, using torture and deprivation. It was one reason they preferred to buy their slaves as young as possible, since those who were enslaved as adults tended to fight a lot more and a lot harder against their bonds.

Molly held up a staying hand as Jenice set aside her tablet and made to rise. “Relax, Jen. I’m fine.” She grinned, her cheeks flushing as she thought about how much her body hummed from her encounter with Shulgi. “Better than fine, actually. He was….”

Jenice waggled her eyebrows. “Hot, right? I saw enough, girl! Those Galactanet forums weren’t lying about how fine the Iriduan males are.”

Molly gasped. “You saw how much exactly?”

Jenice grinned, waving a hand vaguely towards the monitors. “I didn’t watch anything, but I had to check the feed before cataloguing it, didn’t I? By the way, he has a really nice ass, even if he does have two strange thingies coming out of his back right above it.”

“Jenice!” Molly shrieked, picking up a decorative pillow to chuck it at Jenice, who only laughed as she caught it.

She knew what her friend was doing. Jenice wanted to lighten the mood, and make light of the encounter, as she often tried to do when one of the “flowers” actually had to go all the way to close the deal. Most of them, Molly included, were so inured to the job that they weren’t usually too bothered by it, but Jenice seemed to suffer vicariously, and always tried to make them feel better, when it was really more her own emotions that were deeply affected.

Not that it was always easy for Molly to put aside her feelings. She also appreciated the intent behind Jenice’s teasing and attempts to make light of these things.

Their laughter died down as Jenice set the pillow next to her against the arm rest of the couch, then patted the other side. “Cop a squat, Mol. I want to hear the details.” She swiped her other hand over the console on the arm of the couch to summon a bot carrying a tray of snacks and drinks.

Molly eyed the bot as it rolled in once the hidden panel leading to the kitchens slid open. She grinned when she spotted the offerings. “You’ve been flirting with the chef again, haven’t you?”

Jenice shrugged. “What can I say? I think his horns are sexy.” She waved towards the approaching tray. “Plus, I really wanted some pizza, and I would kill for some fresh, buttered popcorn!”

Molly chuckled as she inhaled deeply of the scent of food Jenice and the others assured her came right off an Earthling menu. How closely their ramsuta chef managed to make it probably had to do more with how much time Jenice spent in the kitchen teasing him mercilessly than it did with his familiarity with the cuisine.

“So,” Jenice said, recalling Molly’s attention to her as the pizza, popcorn, and “pop” as Jenice called some of the drinks, rolled up to the coffee table, “how are you doing?” Her expression sobered as she leaned forward and placed a hand on Molly’s jammie-covered thigh. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I know the suppressors were set to your voice command, but it was difficult not to watch over you, just to make sure he wasn’t….”

Molly patted her hand. “He was perfect, Jen. He treated me very well.”

Jenice smiled and sagged back in her seat. “That’s a relief! I swear, the problem with researching the Iriduans isn’t the lack of information on the Galactanet. It’s that there’s too much of it. I can’t tell what’s real and what’s bullshit, and the official sites hosted by the Iriduan Empire are so damned vague and even conflict with themselves on the information they provide.”

She leaned forward to snatch up a handful of popcorn in one hand, picking up a pop in the other. “The only thing that everyone who isn’t an Iriduan really seems to agree on is that they’re real bastards. So,” she took a sip of her pop, pulling a face because according to her, no matter how hard he tried, their chef couldn’t get the recipe exactly right, “naturally, I was worried about how he might treat you.”

Molly grinned as she plucked up a dish with two of the pizza slices on it. She’d tried them before and liked them, and Jenice and the others told her they were remarkably close to the real deal. “I ran into the same problem. Lots of rumors and urban legends and horror stories about their species. Many of them didn’t make any sense at all.”

She lifted a slice of pizza, about to take a bite, but then lowered it as she glanced at Jenice. “I did read some theories about why they always wear masks though. A few of them seemed… plausible. Yet, if the ones I suspect might be true really are, then I wonder why Shulgi was so willing to remove his mask for me.”

Jenice swallowed the popcorn she’d been crunching on while Molly spoke. “Are you talking about the deadly allergy theory? Or the air quality vulnerability theory? Or that pheromone theory?” She took a quick sip of her drink. “Or, ooh, the hideous face theory?” She frowned. “Obviously, from what I’ve seen, that last one is definitely not true. It didn’t look like he had vampiric fangs either, so I’m guessing the bloodsucker theory is wrong.”

Molly laughed aloud, shaking her head at Jenice’s list of only some of the many different speculations on the Galactanet about the Iriduans’ strange culture and habits. “Since Shulgi took his mask off for me, I wonder if the theory that the mask is for visual intimidation, anonymity, or for religious beliefs are the most accurate theories. Maybe it really is true that Iriduans only reveal their faces for those who are close to them.”

She liked the idea that Shulgi felt close enough to her that he might want to reveal his face to her. Especially if such an act was truly meaningful for his people. Obviously, he couldn’t have been concerned about air quality or allergens or pheromones.

Or the urge to bury fangs in her neck and drain her of blood. That last theory had seemed ridiculous even when she’d read it on a particularly lurid conspiracy site. Still, there had been some convincing stories told about such things, and despite the empire’s official stance on slavery, way more than a few slaves disappeared from the Rim into the dubious “care” of Iriduans, never to be seen or heard from again. It didn’t seem all that far-fetched that the species was doing something nefarious that required victims.

Jenice studied her face as she took another sip of her drink. “Mol, just… I don’t want to be a wet blanket or anything. I can see that you’re practically glowing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so… satisfied, but I don’t want you to get hurt, you know. I mean… emotionally.”

Molly sighed, setting her plate down on the armchair of the couch without yet taking a bite of the pizza on it. “I appreciate your concern, Jen, but it isn’t necessary. I learned long ago not to get my feelings involved in these types of transactions.”

Jenice cursed, turning her head to glare at the wall as if she could see some monster through it. Molly guessed the one she saw was Uthagol. “I hate that you have to live this way, Mol. Especially since you’ve never known anything else!”

Molly shrugged one shoulder with more nonchalance than she felt. “The fact that I’ve never known anything else makes it easier, I think.”

Jenice focused on her again, her eyes sad and misty. “Maybe. I don’t know, but my heart breaks every time I think about what you’ve been through.” She lowered her eyes, studying the bubbles fizzing in her drink glass. “And about the way we continue to use you and the others to achieve our goals. It’s not fair! I should—”

Molly placed a hand on Jenice’s arm. “Stop, Jen. What we do now, we do by choice. You have no idea how empowering that is for all of us. Me and the others are well trained for this work, and we have learned to appreciate our skills, no matter how hard won they are. I have no regrets, nor would I want to see someone thrust into this role when they suffer from it.”

“I just don’t know how you do it. I try to keep things light whenever one of you has to… do it, but it’s so hard not to feel like I’m failing you. Like I should be the one taking the hit for the team, since a lot of times, it’s my suggestions for how to expand our influence that force you all into these positions.”

Molly released Jenice’s arm and leaned back in her chair, plucking up her pizza slice again. She smiled at Jenice. “Sometimes, I’m really glad you give the advice you do, Jen.” Her smile widened to a full-on grin. “Especially when it brings someone like Shulgi into my bed.”

Jenice chuckled, and Molly could see her tension relaxing as she sagged again in her seat. “Well, as long as you really did enjoy yourself.” She mirrored Molly’s grin. “And technically, it was your desk, not your bed.”

Molly tapped her chin, looking up thoughtfully. “Hm, you’re right. I think I’ll have to rectify that soon. My bed is looking kind of empty.”

Jenice’s laughter heartened Molly, and she joined in, but her mind was already thinking over how long she’d have to wait before she could see Shulgi again. He’d said that all Ma’Nah’s dealings with Zaska would go through him, and Molly intended to be the only “mouthpiece” he spoke to.

She knew Jenice was right. She knew not to get emotionally attached, but she didn’t see any reason not to enjoy the ride while it lasted.