Page 41 of When the Universe Sings

I dipped my head and my heart jolted in my throat when Asher touched his brow to mine. It was so brief I barely had a moment to register it before he was gone, striding toward the door in a swirl of black fabric.

And, like the good little servant I was pretending to be, I moved to my case and began my preparations. Leaving my nightclothes on the corner of the bed, I took a deep breath before pulling out the dress, hoping it wouldn’t be too indecent.

…

The dress was obscene.

I continued to blink at my reflection in the floor-length mirror set into the crystalline walls of the cleansing room—which had an actualwatershower—as if somehow more fabric would appear on my body.

The dress itself was black, crisscrossing over my shoulders and torso to leave swaths of skin exposed, yet covering just enough that I wasn’t completely naked. Two slits on either hip were so high and wide it was as if the only concern was covering the apex of my thighs, even if the hem brushed the floor. Though my torso was covered, the fabric was so tight it left none of my curves to the imagination, even hinting at ones I hadn’t known I’d had.

The yeska brand on my forearm was left exposed, but the high crisscross neckline covered the one below my nape. Though I knew Lunastra always thought of everything, when I turned to check if it was covered, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I took the time after I rinsed off in the shower to twist my hair the way my mother had taught me when I’d been a girl. The bridge of my nose burned as I went through the process of scrunching and twirling, but eventually my haphazard waves fell in shining wide curls down my back. I twisted them up and pinned the bundle with one of the crystal pins Lunastra had supplied. By the time I finished applying the barest bit of the cosmetics Zoleka had packed, Asher stomped back into the room.

“Juniper, we—” His words cut off as I made my way into the sleeping quarters.

He blinked twice before his attention rose from the tips of my toes in the high shoes I wore—heels I’d had to practice in for a solid thirty minutes before I felt comfortable—to the tendrils of hair I’d pulled out to frame my face.

I raised a brow at him as his mouth opened and closed.

“I don’t know whether to fall to my knees to worship you or lock the door and never let you leave.” His gaze dropped to the creases of my thighs. “Maybe both.”

Though I knew he said it only for the benefit of the cameras, heat bloomed across my cheeks all the same. We stared at each other for another long moment, silence stretching between us, before he finally shook himself.

“The ‘festivities’ are beginning, according to Aristedes.”

Out the window, three suns were setting in the sky, casting orange and purple streaks in every direction, as if it was on fire. When he took a step closer, offering me a hand that was absent of its usual leather glove, the light painted his face in warmth, illuminating his eyes and making me see heat where there was none. But at his words, the reminders of what was in store tonight, I couldn’t help but hesitate before I put my hand in his.

“No one touches you tonight,” he breathed.

I swallowed. “Except you.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. “Yes,j’ska mahsi, except me.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

Lesephous’party was in full swing by the time we made our way through the labyrinthine hallways, led by Aristedes.

We were guided through a lush garden, lit with just the barest hint of the suns dipping below the horizon. Wild greens and deep pinks surrounded us, dotted with vibrant oranges and bright whites that made my throat ache. I stared resolutely at Aristedes’ back rather than taking in the garden, ignoring the brush of Asher’s bare thumb against the exposed skin of my shoulder. Because if I was to acknowledge his touch I didn’t know if I would lash out and beat my fists against his chest until bones broke and I crushed his heart…or if I would bury my face in his neck and sob until I was merely a husk of myself.

I hated that I wasn’t sure which would win out.

But I tried not to think of it as Aristedes threw open two gilded doors at the opposite end and music blasted across our faces, mingled with conversation and the unmistakable sounds of sex.Maker. This made theDaskquahlook like a monastery.

Asher stiffened at my side, but when I looked at him from the corner of my eye, his expression was impassive as those silver eyes flicked from one sight to the other. But his hand flexed on my shoulder, drawing me ever so slightly closer.

Around the edges of the room, tall tables lit with hovering halo orbs were scattered around the mingling, opulently dressed guests. In comparison to others in attendance, Asher looked absolutely ominous and I appeared paltry beside the yeskas trailing behind their owners for the night. Some were dressed inopaque swaths of fabric attached to a silver or gold collar around their throat that led to a gilded leash in their owner’s hand, while others were naked, their bodies adorned with glittering paint and stones.

A depression around the center of the room drew my eye, lined with a ring of plush couches complete with overstuffed pillows and throws. A myriad of guests lounged there, some with one or two yeskas and others alone. Some ate from the hands of their companions for the night, while others appeared content to feast upon those they’d paid to have their pleasure with. But most were focused upon the circular stage in the dead center.

Gauzy curtains hung from the ceiling and I could see the appeal—Lunastra had a similar room where they could be drawn around the action so those watching felt more like voyeurs happening upon a moment they weren’t supposed to see. But tonight, the curtains were gathered together and tied off with a golden cord, framing the three beings writhing within.

A male lay on his back, deep purple skin glinting in the halo orbs bobbing across the stalactite ceilings. He threw his head back and white curls spilled across the shining floor behind him. A female sat astride him, facing toward the majority of their audience, though one could have witnessed it from any angle. But she bounced on his lap, the opalescent skin of her cheeks flushed with heat. Another male with bronze hair knelt in front of the stage, his head between their thighs, and from the keening sounds both made it was clear he was using his mouth to heighten both their pleasure.

The female threaded her fingers through the second male’s waves, writhing atop the first, who reached out with wide hands to grip her hips. Of course, I had seen something similar during my time at theDaskquah. I’d had nights where I’d danced in the silks above such performances. But there was a rawness here I hadn’t witnessed before. I couldn’t help but watch raptly whileshe chased her pleasure, as if she was carving out this moment for herself—not for those who paid to watch.