Chapter Ten

 

Ever since their arrival, the Krinar knew how to make an entrance.

Tonight would be no different, Jerik told himself. He had done some more research, trying to get a fix on Medora and the best way to get her into his bed and out of his system. Humans with Heart was somewhat notorious in certain circles for turning their nose up at Krinar donations. The very name smacked of a xeno-apartheid.

He waved his limo away and straightened his tie.

He was going to make history tonight.

Already the looks and stares fueled his desire to find Medora and steal her away for a passionate interlude. That and her infuriating refusal to respond to his text. He’d only sent one: When can I see you again? It was simple enough to discover this ball and purchase a place setting when she never answered.

The crowd had hundreds of beautiful women in sparkling evening gowns and expensive jewels. The men wore black tie, nearly all with white shirts. He supposed his black shirt made him stand out, but then again, so did his massive height. There was no disguising he was Krinar, and he didn’t wish to.

He scanned the room, and then found her between two men whose heads needed to be removed from their bodies post-haste. Taking a calming breath, he stood still for a moment.

Her hair was swept up revealing her graceful neck. Her mother had been a dancer. So had she for a short time. It showed in her posture and movements. He’d noticed it in her apartment and even at the hospital. An awareness of her body in space, and an efficiency of movement. She was stunning to watch. Even now, as she slowly turned in his direction, she placed her silvery shoes just so to effect the turn.

A crystal caught the light at her throat. What was this? A thousand ways to tempt Jerik to take her blood?

He clenched his jaw and waited for the moment her eyes would find his.

There.

Her eyes were so expressive, opening wider at the sight of him, swallowing him up in their soulful gaze. Her smile took his breath away. And then she approached like they’d known each other for decades.

He scanned her dress, noting the decided lack of cleavage, and the way the fabric clung to her curves. The long sleeves obscured her fine skin. Her toned legs were shown to advantage with the dress style, and he realized she’d chosen it on purpose. She wanted her legs to be the prominent feature. It worked. He imagined running his tongue from her toes to the backs of her knees. Yes, this dress was working for him. It made him angry she wasn’t his.

“You ignored my text.”

Damn. He couldn’t help it. She brought out an animal in him.

“…you don’t own me, Mr. Jerik, and you never will.”

And there was the crux of the matter. But he didn’t need to own her to bed her and he told her so. Unfortunately, it was as she began to walk away, and she lost her footing. It was an easy matter to catch her and hold her in his arms as if dipping her in a dance. He caught flashes out of the corner of his eye and remembered too late that Medora was a target for the media. A flash of anger at himself pierced his heart. He would have to fix this somehow.

Unable to keep himself from inhaling her fragrance, he leaned close. “Are you all right?”

Her translucent skin glowed under the flattering overhead lights, but the flush on her face and neck told him all her secrets.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I shocked you.”

Her laugh trilled through him, delighting hidden places he’d forgotten about.

“An understatement.”

“I thought I made myself clear in your apartment,” he went on. “And at the café.”

“Ah, well,” Medora’s lashes fell. “Now there is no question whatsoever.”

She looked up at him, and his heart beat with recognition. That face, those eyes, that stubborn chin. It all belonged to his heart. No dammit. He smiled to cover up his inner conflict.

“However, you don’t have the whole picture. You will change your mind.” Medora continued walking by his side.

“I doubt it.”

She stopped and faced him, then reached a hand to his chest, right over his heart. It was a tender gesture.

“I’m a virgin…”

“Not a problem.”

She frowned up at him. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m not having sex until my wedding night.”

Time stopped. Then sped up. Then slowed to the present. The Krinar had explained to the human population more than once that the humans existed because of the Krinar. Thus, all of the strictures of world religions were pointless…such as marriage. Many humans embraced this freedom from all religions, but there were the occasional hold-outs. She hadn’t struck him as deeply religious. Was he missing something? Did it matter? He would possess this woman’s body. He calmed his expression to a mild disinterest. Then her father arrived, and after the prerequisite pissing contest, she ran away with him. Something about an auction.

Jerik stood with hands in pockets, casually observing the observers. He knew he was an object of curiosity. Let them stare.

He found it interesting he wasn’t scanning the crowd for potential sexual partners. And judging by some of the women’s expressions and the décolleté of the gowns, he could have any number of them tonight.

Gradually everyone’s attention turned to the dais. An MC took the podium and announced the auction for a date. The first woman stepped up from behind a black curtain. A spotlight shone on her as she twirled to the hoots and calls from the crowd. There was applause, giggling, and the MC remarked on her qualities, and then the bidding started.

At first, Jerik thought he’d stumbled across a revival of the ancient human custom, but then he realized it was all in fun. A winning bidder who looked to be several glasses of alcohol into the evening gave a lusty shout and nearly collapsed into his neighbor. The young woman on the dais shouted, “I guess I’ll be playing nurse tonight!” The crowd laughed and clapped. Jerik felt mildly uncomfortable.

Nubile young women from various roles in the organization were auctioned off. Receptionists, office managers, payroll and so forth. Women and men bid, the dollar amounts increasing with each subsequent woman as the guests were more into their cups, and the feeling of goodwill toward the recipients of the Humans with Heart foundation increased.

The MC encouraged the audience to simmer down.

“Our last date for the evening likes quiet walks on the beach,” the MC began, and the crowd erupted in laughter at the cliché. “Seriously folks, does she need an introduction?”

Loud Nos echoed through the chamber, and Jerik’s attention perked up. Medora? He thought she was averse to attention from the press. This would propel her into the front pages for several days at least. Then he remembered her face when she had asked if he would go up to Callie’s room. That woman would do anything for her clients. Maybe his chivalry of earlier would go unnoticed after this auction.

Medora stepped up to her spot, graceful and poised, and did an elegant turn followed by a curtsey. The audience went wild.

“Ariella Rothchild prefers Coca Cola to champagne. She loves babies and newborn kittens. She’ll beat you in a round of badminton but please don’t challenge her to scrabble!” The crowd oohed and chuckled and then the bidding began.

Jerik watched as men dotting the audience held up placards for the auctioneer.

“Can I get a $1000?”

“Ah yes, a $1500?”

The bidding went fast, and the higher the numbers went, the more he wanted to spend the evening with her. He flagged down a waiter and secured a placard.

He held it up. “Ten thousand.”

The crowd quieted for a moment. Then someone else chimed in.

“Eleven thousand!”

“Twenty thousand,” he said. They were ridiculous if they thought they were getting her tonight.

“Twenty thousand five hundred!”

“Fifty thousand.”

The crowd hushed. All the while he stared at Medora. Any other human would fidget under his scrutiny. Not his Medora. She stood proud and demure, an icon of female poise. Also, the spotlight may have made it so she couldn’t see into the crowd. He waited for the MC to catch up.

“Going twice? And sold, for fifty thousand!” The MC raised his hands to encourage the crowd to cheer louder, and more flashes sparked in the audience.

Jerik shoved his placard at a passing server and walked his way through the parting crowd to escort Medora off the dais.

He held out his hand, and her trembling fingers grasped his as she stepped daintily down the two steps.

She smiled at him amidst camera flashes and spoke through her teeth. “What did you just do?”

He leaned forward and pecked her cheek then whispered into her ear. “I bought you.”

He thought he saw tears in her eyes. But her voice was steady. “Thank you. That was very generous. Especially for a simple dinner companion and some dancing,” she said, nodding to the congratulations people offered as they walked back through the crowd. “After which I will get into my pumpkin and ride home. Alone.”

“Debatable.” Jerik’s innards lurched at the thought of all the things he would love to do with Medora. Show her. Teach her. His breath hitched, even as they calmly walked to a secluded table for two. How was it possible she’d never been with anyone before?

She laughed. “Only a Krinar would say that.”

“What?”

“Oh please,” she said, folding the fabric of her dress under her legs as he pulled the seat out for her. “You Krinar are gossiped about endlessly. Some groups go so far as to accuse you of being sexual predators.” She shook her head. “My decision to save my virginity for my husband is mine alone. It isn’t up for debate.” She looked at him pointedly over her glass of ice water. “Especially with the owner of several sex clubs.”

“What is this pumpkin you mentioned?”

She spewed water out her nose and grabbed the nearest fabric napkin.

His mouth turned up at the corner. “I’ve never witnessed water coming out of one’s nose.”

Medora melted with laughter and coughing until a server came by asking if she needed assistance.

She gasped and shook her head. “I’m fine. Sorry,” she said and waved him away. “It’s fine.”

She looked at Jerik and simply smiled, sighing.

A feeling of rightness overcame him, and he couldn’t speak. He looked away from her and recalled his anger of a few days ago. Closed his eyes and summoned it to return. One time. One fuck. It’s all he needed, and he could go back to the way things were before Medora.

She cocked her head at him when his eyes opened.

“A pumpkin. You know, a round orange squash? We make pie out of it in the autumn?”

He didn’t respond, noticing instead the fragrance that emanated from her jawline. Lilies again. The perfume was sharp and tangy, bright. And green. She smelled like the hothouses on the ships where they grew massive collections of greenery to feel closer to home.

When he didn’t say anything, she continued.

“It’s a big vegetable,” she waved her hand like it didn’t matter. “We have an old fairy tale on earth where Cinderella, this oppressed young woman with a horrible step family gets the chance to be the belle of the ball and meets the prince, but then she has to hurry home at midnight because the spell wears off. And her coach turns back into a pumpkin.” She cocked her head the other way. “Do you know what a coach is? Or step family? God, there’s so much I don’t know about Krinar.”

Jerik clenched the fist he had under the table as he inhaled her scent. He was saved from further restraints being required when a waiter came with covered dishes. He placed everything on the table between them and left.

“This looks much better than last year’s,” Medora murmured. “Look at this. Lemongrass over saffron rice and scallop medallions!” She placed a fresh napkin on her lap and picked up the salad spoon. “Sometimes I help choose the menus for all the events, but usually I just delegate it. Gets to be too much, you know?”

Jerik nodded and let his fisted hand relax. “Many of my people are well-versed in human history and literature. I probably have friends who would know this tale you refer to.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. I, however, have enjoyed other pursuits for my whole life.”

Medora blushed. “Pursuits,” she let out a little snort. “Don’t tell me you were a gigolo at the ripe old age of ten.”

“Sexual pursuits have been my favorite pastime for thousands of years,” he admitted, watching the red stain creep up from beneath her square neckline and traverse all the way up to her hairline. Fascinating. “However, prior to that I had other interests.”

In spite of her apparent discomfort, she continued to pepper him with questions. “I can’t imagine what those might have been. Flying? Fingerpainting?”

Her disdain hurt him more than he cared to acknowledge.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I was quite fond of flying.”

“Wait,” she held up her fork that had a Kalamata olive speared on it. “Do Krinar fly?”

He quirked up one side of his mouth. “Only in aircraft.”

She visibly relaxed.

“Explain why you refuse to have sexual relationships prior to a marriage. Not many humans follow this religious tradition anymore.”

Her brows formed a V on her forehead. She took a few more bites, occasionally peering at him. He liked that she was thinking about her answer.

“It’s not just a religious tradition, Jerik.” She stirred the leaves on her plate into a puddle of dressing. “For millennia here on earth it was the way of things. Property transference, genetic lines—it was an organized way to promote family lines.”

“You’re concerned about your posterity?”

She laughed. “Sure, why not?”

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re afraid of sex.”

She frowned at him. “You don’t know me, Jerik.”

The truth was, he couldn’t fathom any reason not to indulge in physical delights. “I know you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

She tilted her head back when she laughed, and that pulse of vitality called to him like a siren. He did know that myth.

“Did you look around tonight?” She gestured to the room as a whole. “Look at them all,” she almost whispered. “Tall, petite, curvaceous, slender. You’ve got gingers, brunettes and blondes.” She let her eyes drift over all of them. “There are some drop-dead gorgeous women here. And many of them can’t take their eyes off of you.”

“They’re alright,” Jerik admitted. “Fortunes are lost on some of the women I’ve seen in my clubs.”

“I’ll bet,” she snickered.

But you are priceless.

“Come home with me tonight.” His voice was husky. “I’ll teach you everything. Then you’ll know how to please your husband when you take him to your marriage bed.”

Medora placed her fork down and looked up at him. “You are insufferable. Why on earth would I agree to such a proposition?” She stared at him. “Think of my future husband. What would he have to say about that?”

Jerik tilted his head and considered. Strictly as a hypothetical, what would it be like to approach the marriage bed as Medora’s husband? Knowing she had saved her virginity for him? Something like a sinkhole formed in the pit of his stomach.

“Dance with me,” he finally said standing. He wouldn’t accept a refusal. She stood in a fluid movement, and they approached the dance floor as a couple.

With hands clasped, and his broad hand on her waist, they began the steps. As he suspected she would, she moved like water in his hands, taking his lead and gliding across the floor. He heard more than one woman gasp when he spun Medora and dipped her. Her elegance put every other woman in the room to shame, but she was oblivious to it.

They danced as one. He whispered in her ear. “This is what sex is.” He moved with her, a steady stream of innuendo pouring into her ear. “We will move together, pushing and pulling. I give you a little, and you take from me.” He pulled her closer. “Our bodies fit together, and we create a song that only we can hear.”

“You paint a pretty picture,” she whispered back, trying not to look into his eyes. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. It’s why I’m waiting.”

“There is value in waiting,” he said in agreement. She shot him a questioning look. “Anticipation is a key component to sexual gratification.”

There was that blush again. He wanted to lick it. Everywhere. He closed his eyes and leaned close to her. Ah yes. He could smell her arousal now.

“Once you have submitted to me, you can search for your husband in earnest.”

She stiffened in his arms.

“What are you talking about?”

“You would be married by now if you had found him. Waiting for sex is holding you back from your search.”

She rolled her eyes but refused to say anymore.

The music climaxed, and they came to an end with a flourish. The couples around them applauded, and Jerik realized everyone had faded away to let them dance alone.

Graceful as ever, Medora curtseyed and blew kisses. Jerik wore a smug smile and escorted her off the floor.

“How was your first dance?” He asked her.

“That was hardly my first dance,” she argued. “I can’t believe how outrageous you are sometimes!”

“It was your first dance simulating sex with me.”

“That was not—!” She huffed and shook her head.

“All due respect Medora, but how would you know?” He asked in a mild voice. He bowed over her hand and let his lips skim over the skin at her knuckles. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

He walked away, ears attuned to the sounds of cell phone cameras whirring and camera shutters clicking. He hoped the press was good for her little foundation. Doubtless there were more Callies in her future.

For some reason, this made him unaccountably angry again, and he faced the fierce winter winds to walk home, rather than call his driver.