Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 87050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
We ascended a grand staircase of what appeared to be polished marble shot through with veins of luminescent blue. Our footsteps echoed as we passed through grand doors into the cavernous space of the lobby beyond, the sound somehow both crisp and muffled at once. The air inside seemed cool and fragrant, carrying the scent of exotic flowers I couldn’t have named.
The lobby presented a breathtaking blend of elegant simplicity and mind-bending technology. Holographic displays flickered to life as we entered, showing scenes from distant worlds and star systems. The floor beneath our feet seemed to ripple and shift, giving the disconcerting impression that we were walking on the surface of a still pond.
I was so caught up in marveling at my surroundings that Sala’s words took a moment to register.
“Tessara,” she said gently, drawing my attention back to her. “Now that we’re inside the embassy, we need to follow Magisterian custom.”
I blinked at her, uncomprehending. “Custom?”
Sala nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, sweet one. You and I will need to remove our gowns.”
My eyes widened in shock. “Here? But… but we’re in public!” Again I felt the very strange mixture of emotions that the lovely blue gown seemed to stimulate—I had become so used to my nakedness on the Conqueror, but here on Prosperia it seemed terribly embarrassing, as if having just gained the right to wear clothing I clung to it with special fierceness.
Alpha’s deep chuckle resonated through the space. “This is Magisterian territory, little one. Our customs apply here.”
I felt my cheeks flush hot, remembering how the women aboard the Prince Hend had almost all been nude. Somehow, the thought of stripping off my beautiful gown in this opulent setting seemed even more scandalous.
Sala turned to Alpha, her posture one of deference despite her nude state being a foregone conclusion. “My lord,” she said, her voice soft but clear, “may I have permission to undress myself and Tessara?”
Alpha nodded, reaching for the sleek handheld device at his belt. With a few taps of his large blue fingers, he seemed to make some adjustment. “There,” he said. “I’ve granted you control over both gowns.”
Sala took my hand, her touch gentle but insistent. “Come, Tessara. There’s a dressing room just off the lobby where we can disrobe.”
As she led me away, I cast a glance back over my shoulder. Gamma’s intense gaze followed us, a hint of something predatory in his eyes that made my stomach flip with a mixture of fear and excitement.
The dressing room was a marvel in itself. The walls seemed almost alive, sometimes appearing opaque and sometimes transparent.
My heart began to race at the thought that I would have to be naked in front of Gamma. The silvery walls of the dressing room reflected my flushed face back at me, multiplying my image in a dizzying array. I watched my cheeks grow redder and redder, the blush spreading down my neck to my chest.
Sala stood behind me, our eyes meeting in the shifting mirrors. With deliberate slowness, Sala reached for the neck of my gown. I held my breath, torn between the urge to stop Sala’s hand and the desire to let it continue. The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, until Sala’s fingers finally made contact with the fabric.
There was a soft whisper of sound, barely audible over the pounding of my heart, and suddenly the gown had begun falling away. It slipped down my body like water, pooling at my feet in a puddle of satiny blue. I gasped softly at the suddenness of it, the way the air of the dressing room wafted over my newly revealed skin.
I stood, trembling slightly, acutely aware of my nudity. The mirrored walls seemed to amplify my nakedness, showing me from every angle. I could see the goosebumps rising on my arms, the way my nipples had hardened in the cool air. My eyes met Sala’s in the mirror, a question forming on my lips.
But before I could speak, Sala turned me gently, drawing me into a warm embrace. I melted into the contact, grateful for the comfort of skin against skin. Then, to my surprise, Sala’s lips found mine in a deep, passionate kiss.
The kiss was nothing like the perfunctory, often cruel kisses I had endured as a Vionian concubine. Sala’s lips were soft, insistent but not demanding. Her tongue teased at the seam of my mouth, asking rather than taking. I found myself responding eagerly, my body pressing closer to Sala’s as the kiss deepened.
When we finally parted, both of us were breathless. Sala’s arms remained around me, holding me close. Her blue eyes searched my face, a small smile playing at the corners of her kiss-swollen lips.
“Tessara,” Sala murmured, her voice husky, “tell me truthfully. Do you like Gamma?”