Vel hasn’t synced her signed copy up with mine yet - I would know if she had, I’ve been checking on my wrist comm every five minutes or so.

“You know what I speak of.” I can feel my jaw clenching, not in the mood to be teased at present.

Vel quirks her head at me and seats herself primly on the desk chair. I swear, it’s like everyone around me knows exactly how to get under my skin.

Including that little human female.

“Well?!”

She reaches for a pitcher of refreshment that I think had been set out for me a few hours ago and had remained untouched. Pouring herself a glass of sweetberry juice, Vel takes a sip before steepling her fingers in front of her. “She signed your contract, Kiahn.”

It’s like something loosens inside me - like a rope that had been pulled taut is suddenly lax. “She did?” I ask, breathing a sigh of relief, and ruffling my hand through my hair. I sit down without looking - miraculously, my ass lands in a chair that I had not checked for. “So we’re really doing this?”

“Congratulations,” Vel grins. “You have yourself a breeding bride.”

* * *

As much as I would have liked to cast aside my duties, and spend the rest of the day’s travel by Niska’s side, as a Prince returning to my people, I cannot. I already had petitions to read over, agendas to review, and a further, longer list of things to get done provided to me by my dear Aunt Zalora.

I did, however, take a peek at the signed bridal contract once Vel finally synced Niska’s copy up to the system. They had changed the active breeding period - I knew they would. No one signs up for more than six fertility cycles at the most. But it was worth a shot. Everything else was pretty standard from the quick scan I’d taken. I tried not to get too excited at the fact that right at the end of the contract, she’s agreed to give me her full permission.

I eye the door to my onboard simulator in the corner of my room. I have her permission now. I could just-

No. Nope. I won’t.

I’ve used other female’s permissions before, but Niska? After what we’d done last night? How close she allowed us to be while we-

Using her permission in my simulator now would feel… cheap, somehow.

I forced my focus back upon the list of royally sponsored conservation projects where I’m meant to be choosing a handful that my principality will award extra funding for the next quarter.

But the whole reason that it’s standard for breeding brides to grant their permission is so that participating males can use said permission to touch and… do other things with the perfect likeness of their bride. To desensitize them from the act, help them get used to it, and lower the risk of getting overexcited and issuing a bonding bite.

I find myself staring at the door that leads to my simulator in the corner of my room, thinking about how Niska gave me her full permission - full.

She’s basically given her blessing for me to do anything I want to a perfect, holographic replica of her perfect, real body.

My fangs suddenly jut from my gums, making me hiss out a curse and throw my tablet down on my bed.

I’ll look at my princely duties later.

I need a drink.

And to calm the fuck down.

There are three bars on this royal cruiser, plus the ability for me to call staff to wait on me from wherever I am. I could get a drink just sitting right here at my desk. But instead, I decide the walk in pursuit of liquor will suit me well. It’s the same excuse I use to breeze right past the first bar in one of the recreational rooms when I see that there’s no one in it, and then again when a member of staff asks if there’s anything they can do for me.

Instead, I carry on, moving forward until I eventually find myself following the sounds of murmured talking and laughter coming from the lounge area at the front of the ship. It’s the very same room where I’d seen my Niska again when Aunt Zalora had delighted in telling me she’d bought me a ‘gift’ to tempt me into a contract.

And it had worked.

A little too well, if I’m honest.

As the cruiser’s double doors glide back with a whoosh, I find myself holding my breath again just like when she was ‘gifted’ to me, as I lay eyes on the sight before me.

Niska is sitting in the sunken seating area, along with her two friends… and my two brothers.

“Ah, here he is,” Zann exclaims, raising a glass to my entry, a rolled, smoking stick of moonweed hanging from the corner of his lips. I straighten my spine and step inside, the doors closing behind me. “We were just telling your bride about the time we three snuck out in disguises to go to a gambling house. Kiahn made us donate our winnings when we bet on that year’s Drak-Ball Season Cup.”

“We had an unfair advantage,” I say, slowly walking into the room with my arms clasped at my back, “since Az was privy to some insider tradings and investments in the sport, and you had dabbled in some black-market intuition venom.”

Zann puts his glass down and takes a drag of his moonweed before gesturing to me with the smoking stick caught between his fingers. “I still maintain that that stuff was not legit.”

“Yeah, if anything, it made you dumber,” Az throws back at him.

Niska’s friend -the youngest one, with the darkest human skin-tone- Jaya, snorts into her drink, but hides the noise with a cough.

Zann doesn’t seem phased at all and blows his moonweed toward Az, the puff of pink cloud shaped like a hand performing an obscene gesture.

“The point was that we are already privileged, and do not need winnings,” I remind them, stepping down into the sunken area and seating myself beside Niska. I sit back, my arm spread along the seat behind her, careful to try and read her body language to make sure I am not overstepping. We are quite close, if the ship were to lunge even the slightest, I could be forgiven for knocking my thigh against hers.

Which is a fucking ludicrous thing to be fantasizing over - considering everything.

For no apparent reason, I find myself clearing my throat and shifting in my seat.

“No, dear brother,” Zann says, not done with whatever topic he’s fixated on at present. “The point is that you have a giant stick up your ass, and can never let yourself enjoy anything.”

The bastard lifts his glass like he’s making a toast to the very stick he describes.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” someone says, and it’s not until I notice my Niska slap her hand over her mouth that I realize the words had come from her. I stare at the back of her head, her shoulders now scrunched up but… bouncing a little, like she’s trying to hold in her laughter.

“Wait, what?” Az asks, his glass paused midway to his mouth.

His female - well, the one he would like to be able to call his, anyway - Lois, playfully slaps his stomach. “They fooled around last night and he enjoyed that plenty - keep up.”

Zann says something about being happy to stand corrected, but I don’t hear him. Niska has turned in her seat to face me, her hands on her pretty, round cheeks and her bottom lip caught with her teeth. “Sorry,” she mouths, like she has anything to apologize for. I shake my head. There’s mischief in her eyes that stirs a disrespectful amount of interest in me. I shift in my seat again, moving into her space a little more, and I don’t know why, but the way she tracks my movements - her gaze drifting down my body, noting how I’m half splayed over her side of the backrest now - well, let’s just say, I like that tiny little smile she gifts me afterward. No matter how small it is.

Niska leans forward and picks up her drink, and I note that the liquid starts as an aqua-blue tone before transitioning up to a pinkish hue at the top of her glass. Zann has been mixing exotic liquors together again, and no doubt these drinks are strong enough to knock out a drak. And, he’s handing them out to the humans like it’s nothing more than sweetberry juice.