Page 10 of The Thren's Fated

Heat rushed to her face as she glanced toward the exclusive section tucked away in the bar’s corner. It was typically unoccupied as there were far classier drinking establishments on Henios, but clearly today was the exception.

Silky red curtains partially obscured the group, but there was one Thren looking directly at her. One who looked familiar, his glowing almond eyes unblinking.

The male she’d met last night.

“Me? Are you sure?” Lena asked, a slight hitch in her voice.

She’d danced with Thren royalty?

No wonder everyone at Cosmic Pulse had been desperate to get out of his way. But why had he wanted her, when he certainly could have had his choice of dance—and probably bed—partners?

And why the hell was he here? Was he stalking her?

“Oh, I’m sure. The Threns can be gruff, but they’re not so bad. And the prince usually tips well. It’s important we keep them happy; their government has done a lot of good for this station.”

“Really?” Lena asked, unable to conceal the shock in her voice.

“Who do you think guards Henios? The Alliance may be the ones running this station, but Botune protects it with its proximity and reputation. That’s why the prince is here for the Peace Accords.”

Lena pondered that as she tugged at her clothes, making sure her unofficial work uniform was in order for the group. Her skirt was short, definitely more risqué than her usual black pants, but she had wrongfully assumed that she would work behind the bar today.

“What do I call him? Prince Rohieth? Your Majesty?”

Ochin laughed.

“Commander Screl should be just fine.”

Lena nodded and switched on her customer service smile as she made her way over to the private table, trying to tell herself that this was all just a big coincidence. The prince had happened to be at Ochin’s and recognized her from the club. He was just being friendly by requesting her service. There was nothing weird about this, and certainly her heart was just fluttering from the usual nerves and nothing else.

She pushed her way past the red curtain and tried to ignore her racing heart as she looked around the small area.

All four of the Threns wore a similar uniform—black pants, loose shirts, and structured combat jackets, iridescent and shining like beetles in the mood lighting. And they all watched her expectantly.

“Hello! We welcome you to Ochin’s this evening. My name is Lena, and I’ll be here for whatever you may need,” she said, her quiet voice gaining traction as she spoke. She looked at the male she’d danced with, the prince, as he sat at the small table. “Commander Screl, it is an honor to have you here with us tonight.”

She clasped her hands in front of her and put on her best smile, trying not to make her discomfort so obvious.

The commander looked her up and down, four eyes roving across her body in unison.

“Is there anything I can get you?” she inquired, as all four Threns remained silent.

“Come here.”

He had that same husky voice from last night, somewhat monotonous, though that could be because the inflections were lost in the translation of her neural implant. He raised his arm and beckoned her.

Lena’s breath caught in her throat, sweat beading on her brow, suddenly hot despite the cool breeze of recycled air. What did he want with her?

She stepped forward, trembling slightly, and reached out a hand. He took it with surprising gentleness, and for a moment she wondered if this was the way one greeted a Thren. Then, a blue-gray tentacle circled up her arm, reeling her in closer. It had her in a vicelike grip, pulling her in until she was almost on top of him. She tried to remain calm, knowing that Ochin could taste her with her tentacle appendages, whatever that meant.

Perhaps Commander Screl was just politely saying hello.

Even seated, he was still as tall as her, though at five foot four, she was hardly an above average-sized human. One tentacle spiraled around her bare arm as another touched her waist. The other two were brushing her hair softly before one reached down to caress her cheek.

Lena froze, unsure what to do.

Suckers covered the tentacles, not slimy or wet like one would expect, but warm to the touch as they slithered across her face and body. The small suction cups expanded and contracted, suckling like they were tasting her flesh. One tentacle looped completely around her waist, and her eyes widened in shock.

“What an interesting pet you are,” Screl said with what seemed to be a laugh. The others joined in, a metallic ringing filling the small space. “A lovely little human. One who spurned me last night.”