Owned by Luna Voss
1
Melyta
I startle as the commercial break ends, almost messing up the lipstick I’m applying. From the room behind me, I can hear a human newscaster’s voice:
“Breaking news: the Dilroni system has been liberated! We’ve just received word that our forces have finished securing the capital planet, bravely killing all 6 billion inhabitants without sustaining a single casualty. This is another huge victory in the United Planetary Empire’s ongoing war against terrorism, and also likely an economic boon, as the system’s significant natural resources can finally be extracted. The Rangasta Corporation, which has legally owned the Dilroni system since it was granted exclusive usage rights by the Emperor last year—”
With a sigh, I change the channel from news to music. Life here on Tarsheb 8 is hard enough without stressing myself out over events taking place half a galaxy away.
As I’m finishing up my makeup, I hear Jenyta, my roommate, open the front door. “Hey, Mel!” comes her voice from the front of our apartment. “I’ve had a long-ass day. Do you want to order food and watch something tonight?”
“I wish I could,” I tell her as she joins me in the bathroom and leans against the door frame, “but I’m scheduled tonight. Tez has me catering that event, remember?”
She frowns, still wearing her work uniform. “Oh, right. That’s the Vostra thing?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Jenyta and I are coworkers at a Voorian restaurant. Most of the time we just wait tables, but sometimes we get booked to cater outside events. And a good percentage of the time, those outside events are private gatherings hosted by the various Vostra crime families that operate in Dalax City.
My friend snorts. “You know which Vostra family it is?”
“Well, the address is Southside, so probably the Dultaz Family. Not like I give a shit. They’re all just gangsters.”
“Hey, at least they’regangsters with money,” Jenyta quips dryly. “And some of those younger Vostra guys really know how to fill out a suit. You should have seen this one at the last event I catered…”
Our conversation betrays the complicated feelings I imagine most young Voorians in Dalax City have toward the Vostra. On the one hand, they basically fulfill every single stereotype humans have about our species: the men are brash, hypermasculine criminals who rule their territory with a violent authority. The women are submissive, and are spanked by their mates. And although that basic gender dynamic is relatively typical for Voorians, the criminality is not, and most of us don’t appreciate being associated with it.
On the other hand, for people who grew up like Jenyta and I, the Vostra are easily the most prominent examples of Voorians who have “made it.” Most Voorians I know work hard and have little. We take the jobs that will hire us, can’t save money after paying rent, and do our best to survive in a society that grants us little opportunity for advancement. Compared to that, members of the Vostra have everything. Money. Luxury. Respect. They walk around the city like they own the place, spending credits left and right from their seemingly bottomless currency chips. I serve them in the restaurant at least once a week, groups of big, tough-looking men who always seem to be having a good time, often accompanied by stunning women dressed in the latest fashions I could never afford. When you work your ass off and don’t even make enough to eat at your own restaurant, it’s hard not to be some combination of impressed and resentful of that lifestyle and its casual opulence.
“Mel, what’s up?” Jenyta asks, frowning. “You don’t look yourself.”
“I think I’m just nervous,” I sigh. “I… I’m going into heat in the next couple days.”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “Oh. Yeah, I get it. That sucks. Not great timing.”
Like all adult Voorian women who aren’t taking drugs to suppress our natural reproductive systems, Jenyta and I both go into heat every six months. This means a period of incredible sexual receptivity, to the point of extreme discomfort if we are not knotted and marked. We both know that heats can be unpredictable, and can sometimes happen sooner than expected, especially if we encounter the pheromones of a genetically compatible male.
“I’ll be okay,” I grumble. “My heats are always super regular, so I don’t really have a reason to worry. I just know how grumpy I get right before. I’m sure I’m a pain to be around.”
“Noooo, not at all,” my roommate says sarcastically.
I ignore her, taking the chance to vent. “I hate having to work when I’m this close. Maybe it’s stupid, but I worry that if one of those Vostra guys happens to have the right set of pheromones, he could send me into heat right then and there and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Like, how bad would that be? What the fuck would I even do?”
We’re both quiet for a moment. The thought of going into heat while surrounded by Vostra men is terrifying to both of us. Talk about a dangerous place to lose control of your sexual needs.
“Do you want me to take your shift tonight?” Jenyta offers kindly. “I don’t mind.”
“That’s really nice of you. But I can’t do that, you just got off. I’ll be fine.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “Yeah, you’ll be fine. But let me know soon if you change your mind?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Jenyta. I really do appreciate it.”
My friend giggles. “And hey. If you do end up going into heat, it means you’ve met a compatible guy, right? Maybe you’ll meet your Fated Mate.”
I wrinkle my nose, even though I know she’s teasing. “Yeah, great. So my Fated Mate is a gangster. Perfect.”
But as I finish dressing myself to go out, a little part of me can’t help but find the idea intoxicating. Not in the real world, of course. Just as a fantasy.
Too bad I don’t date criminals.
