Page 11 of The Thren's Fated
He tilted her face up with the tip of a tentacle, not letting her look away from his radiant blue eyes. All the appendages tensed for a moment before they released her.
Lena let out a breath and took a step back, bumping into one of the other Threns. It was like walking into a solid wall. She mumbled an apology as she retreated to the edge of the private area.
Screl never stopped staring at her.
“We will take some Thren ale. Ochin always keeps a barrel on hand for me,” he said.
He finally tore his eyes away from her, speaking to one of his friends in a hushed tone, and she nodded quickly, turning on her heel to get the hell out of there.
Back at the bar, Ochin slunk over to her with a wry grin.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was so handsy?” Lena asked, a hint of anger rising in her voice as she typed in their order.
She thought about mentioning last night, but decided against it. He really thought that she’d spurned him? Like she owed him something because he paid her tab and danced with her? What a pretentious asshole.
Now she was glad she hadn’t taken him back to her room.
“I am sorry, my dear. He isn’t normally, at least not with me,” Ochin mused, her hair tentacles pressed tightly to the back of her head. “But I know he enjoys humans.”
“What does that mean?”
“Threns are quite speciesist. It’s why they’ve resisted joining the Alliance for so long. They think the rest of us are beneath them. And the prince… well, he’s not usually so friendly. When he’s on the station, he keeps to himself. But there are rumors he enjoys bringing human escorts back to his ship whenever he is here.”
She grimaced. When Ochin said rumors, she meant it was a fact. Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if her boss was the one supplying Screl with humans.
“Escorts? He knows I’m not an escort, right?”
Ochin sighed.
“Yes, of course, dear. I made that very clear. Do you feel comfortable bringing their drinks over? I understand if not. I can take them myself.”
“No,” Lena assured, grabbing the tray full of ales, but continuing to eye Ochin warily. “I can do it.”
She hoisted it in the air and walked it over to Screl and his friends, pushing the curtain aside with her ass. All four of the Threns watched her intently as she placed the silver tray on the small table. The other three grabbed their drinks, but Screl just continued to stare at her.
“You are new here,” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.
“I am,” Lena replied plainly.
She took a step back from the table, unsure whether she should leave. As much as her body urged her to run, another part begged her to stay, unwilling to listen to her brain as it told her to get out of there.
Screl looked like he had more to say, but he just picked up his glass instead, the others clearly waiting for him to drink. As she watched intently, two tongues pushed into the amber liquid, lapping up the ale like a cat from a bowl. The way they moved simultaneously horrified and intrigued her, her stomach turning as a pleasant pressure filled her lower body. The other three began to drink and converse quietly with each other.
Screl set the now half-empty glass back down, his almond eyes glowing.
“Come sit with me, little pet,” he said, his hand reaching out to her once more.
Sit? Where did he want her to sit? She took a hesitant step forward, and he grasped her tightly, pulling her onto his lap.
Lena let out a gasp as she fell hard, Screl’s tentacles tangling in her hair and resting on her shoulders. His solid arms wrapped loosely around her waist as her body fluttered with nerves, and she locked her muscles, willing herself to stop trembling.
There was quiet shuffling behind her, and she realized the other Threns were leaving. They were leaving her alone with him. A wave of fear threatened to breach, but she pushed it back as he spoke to her with that deep, penetrating voice.
“You are from Earth,” Screl asked, though again it was more of a statement than a query.
“Yes,” she breathed, unsure of what else she was supposed to say.
“Why did you come here?”
