I clear my throat, squeezing the curve of her hip. “If you do not wish to clothe my queen, we will find another.”

I truly hope Leigh doesn’t follow through with her posturing, because he’s the best on the station.

“I do. Please, my queen, I have a rack of traditional garments already arranged for you.”

“Lock the doors,” Leigh says imperiously, and the tailor scurries to do her bidding, as my little redhead marches towards the clothes, peeling one off the rack. “I assume this is where I try on?”

I sweep in front of her, opening the door and checking inside for any possible threats.

Leigh follows me in, then collapses against the corner, where the tailor can’t see her. She’s shaking, and a fine sweat beads her brow. My eyebrows raise, the bitter tang of her fear coating my tongue.

“You are safe,” I tell her. Impulsively, I squeeze her arm through my cloak. “You did well,” I add in a low tone.

She nods once, gathering herself, holding up the black fabric and examining it.

“My mate, let me know what pleases you,” I say, louder this time.

“I’ll try it on by myself.” She scowls at me, back to herself, obviously.

I cough, my power boiling under my skin. I want to see her flesh again, see her body. But I will do as she asks. I would do nearly anything she asked.

Especially after she so thoroughly put the tailor in his place.

I can’t quite keep the smile off my lips as I close the door behind her.

“As you wish, my mate,” I tell her cheerily, laughing at her blatant sound of disgust at the heated way I say the word.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TEN

OceanofPDF.com

LEIGH

The Roth like clothes even less than the Suevans, I’ve decided. Their weird-ass birthday cake slime dessert was good, but the clothes?

I pick at the flimsy, sheer black fabric, shocked into silence.

They’re not going to dress us up like Barbies. At least, not like any Barbies I ever played with. Long gone are my boxy Federation clothes. In fact, I’m pretty sure Nydo made sure the tailor on the space station incinerated them when I wasn’t paying attention.

It’s hard to pay attention to anything but the amount of skin I’m showing off in this damned outfit.

“Does it fit? Does he need to fix anything?” Nydo asks, outside the small room I’ve changed into the first gown in.

And I use the term gown very, very, loosely.

No, this isn’t Barbie’s anniversary or holiday outfit; this dress is what Barbie would wear if she crashed a lingerie-themed sorority party and lost half her outfit in the trashcan punch.

Teensy black straps hold up the side of the skirt, completely exposing my left hip, while sheer black fabric tumbles on the diagonal, barely covering all my lady bits. Eve wore more in the Garden of Eden.

As for the top?

Ha. My boobs are just hanging out, the black fabric doing nothing other than accentuating them, a thin wire propping them up. I mean, it’s pretty and sexy but there’s no way in hell I’m wearing this around anyone.

My face flames at the mere thought.

I thought the Suevan clothes were bad. At least they covered people. Good grief. I turn, examining myself in the mirror. The whole thing is backless, and my left ass cheek is nearly hanging out.

Maybe Roth women didn’t have curves. This is… obscene.

“Am I missing a piece?”

“Let me see it,” Nydo says.

“Absolutely not—”

The door opens anyway. Nydo stares at me, his gaze traveling over my nearly nude body. I stare at him.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” I manage in a harsh whisper. “Mate.” I say it like a swear word.

He swallows hard, his gaze hot as it treks back up my body. Goosebumps prick all over my skin, and I make myself stand up straight, refusing to be cowed or made fun of.

But when his eyes meet mine, they’re pure orange, and there’s nothing funny at all about it. I turn warm all over.

“I refuse to wear this,” I say haughtily, doing my best to sound like a queen. I kind of just sound like a mega bitch, but whatever. I’ve already put on my best mega bitch act for the Roth who owns the store, so I might as well keep pretending.

“I agree,” he says. “You will not wear this.”

I sag in relief, and my arms uncross over my chest.

“We are buying it,” he says.

“What?!”

“You will wear this only for me.”

I blink at him, stunned. “No way,” I whisper in a harsh voice. “I’m not.”

He thrusts another smokey grey and black garment into my arms, and I immediately cling to it, trying to cover up. The tips of his hair spark, and he looks… powerful.

Suddenly, I’m wet between my legs, turned on beyond all belief at the way he’s staring at me, at the little game we’re pretending at.

Maybe I should pretend a little harder.

Maybe I should make him off-balance, instead of always being the one pushed. I am sick to death of being pushed around.

I drop the new dress, and it puddles atop my bare feet.

“Is that right?” I say, tossing my hair over one shoulder. “You want me to wear this for you and only you, my king? My mate?”

His hair catches fire, and his eyes smolder. The markings under his skin swirl harder along his biceps, and I revel in the effect I have on him.

And I wonder at it.

I’m not… I’m not scared.

No. I feel powerful.

I take a step forward, skimming my fingertips down my sides, down my stomach.

“Yes,” he growls.

I take another step forward, drunk on this newfound power over him. Drunk on the lust raging through me, but finally, finally fucking using it. They might have messed me up, messed with my body, but goddammit, I’m going to use it all.

“Do you smell how I feel right now?”

He bangs a fist into the door frame, making the entire stall rattle, his knuckles turning white. “Yes,” his throat bobs.

I do my best to look down my nose at him, despite our nearly foot-and-a-half height difference.

“Then you should know,” I whisper, tracing one finger down his jawline, “you should remember, that it’s because your species messed up my hormones. And it has nothing to do with you. My body is mine, and who gets to see it is up to me.”

With that, I shove him out of the stall, slamming the door behind him. Frustration and loss flash across his face, and then I see nothing except the door where he stood.

My chest heaves, and I rip the top off, then the skirt. I’m on the verge of tears, and I’m not really sure why.

Shouldn’t I feel good after telling him off? After hurting him?

Isn’t that what I wanted?

I try on gown after gown, Nydo barely meeting my eyes, only nodding his head once as I add to the pile of things he’ll purchase for me, his pretend mate, and I think maybe this isn’t what I wanted, not at all.

When I slip the tiny black outfit into the bottom of the pile of clothes to purchase, I’m not really sure why, other than I need to remember how I feel in this moment, and buying the evidence seems like the best way to make sure I do.

I have a sinking suspicion I’m going to need all the reminders I can get of who Nydo is —about who the Roth are: deceptive, murderous, and dangerous.

I'm tired and grumpy, well, grumpier than usual, by the time we emerge from the shop. Nydo’s paid extra to have some of the tailor’s help courier the bags full of our purchases to the ship. There are things for Billie and Piper, too, mostly in black and shades of dark grey, which are apparently all the Roth wear. Boring, if you ask me.

Not that anyone has.

I smooth my hand over the new dress. My hair’s still done up in a regulation bun, coiled tight on top of my head… but the rest of me is bedecked in an outfit the likes of which I’ve never seen before. This one is hands down my favorite, and even though I’m still slightly sick over what I’ve agreed to do with Nydo, I can’t deny it’s gorgeous.