Rayner spent the next morning checking on repairs at the western spire. The latest Draqon attack had caused a portion of the maintenance tunnel to cave in, trapping two of his men and claiming the life of another. The repairs were going slow as the clean-up crew battled not only the broken rock and mangled wiring, but also their own fear of another attack. He helped lift a hatch into place and then left the tunnel repairs in his foreman’s capable hands. He ought to stop by the arena and verify his trainees had attended today’s session, but all he’d been able to think about throughout the morning was Vera.

Last night, after realizing Niva was gone and there wasn’t any particular reason for Vera to sleep in his bed again, he’d scrambled to assemble a suitable place for her to rest since he’d yet to arrange for her own quarters. As he’d worked, he couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d feel in his bed with him. In his bed under him. His big, lonely bed. Where he’d tossed and turned all night. Hyperconscious of the woman sleeping on a bed of cushions in the front room.

Needless to say, he wasn’t very rested this morning.

Back at his quarters later that morning, he found her sitting at his table with his desk lamp disassembled in front of her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stopping short in the doorway.

“I accidentally knocked this off your desk.” Her adorable pink tongue stuck from the side of her mouth as she twisted a bit of wire back into place. “So I’m fixing it.”

“We have servants to do that.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake. She turned her chin slowly toward him to level a glare that threatened to burn straight through him. He quickly covered by adding, “And I’m taking you to see Niva. Did you get the new clothes I ordered?”

Her fierce expression eased a little. But only a little. She lifted a bundle of cloth from the floor beside her. “You mean these?”

“Why aren’t you wearing them?”

She rose. “I’ll show you why.”

Stepping into the bedroom, she shut the door. Rayner crossed his arms and stared at the broken lamp. She had everything laid out in perfect order, and he wondered how she’d gotten the thing apart without tools.

The bedroom door opened again, and Vera emerged, her previous sheet-sewn tunic replaced by a blouse that not only showed flashes of her creamy skin through all the gaping seams, but also allowed her ample cleavage to nearly spill from the top. He thought he glimpsed the coral-pink edge of a nipple, and his cock thrummed to life. A pair of homespun leggings were wrapped tight around her shapely calves.

She cocked one eyebrow at him as if fully aware of the effect the clothes had on him. “I’m not sure this is any better than what I had before.”

“No.” He swallowed, wanting nothing more than to rip the blouse to shreds off her body and run his hands over the silky skin beneath. Sweet Avilku. He’d never paid much attention to what the servants wore because he’d never been so compelled to truly look at a servant before. But staring at Vera, and seeing her body on such display, made him acutely aware of how the scraps of cloth the servants were forced to wear sent a message he’d never intended. He thought it was efficient of the clan to not waste the expensive Arakid silk, but he was forcing all the servants to put their bodies on display and receive the sort of attention from others that Vera received from him. “I think we need to stop at the market on our way to the donjon and choose something more appropriate.

Her chest heaved in a sigh, swelling her breasts against the fabric. “Great. Let me change back.”

He grabbed her arm. “You’ll have to wear this for now. You can’t go out in the sheet.”

She glared at him. “Why not?”

He licked his lips, trying unsuccessfully not to stare at her cleavage. “The clan is very particular about who wears which fabrics. Clothing is a way of embracing our human side. It’s part of our identity. Even though it’s just a bedsheet, the quality of silk is … unacceptable on a servant.”

The fire in her eyes flared to life. “Slaves must be kept in their place, right?”

“Please, Vera, try to understand—”

“You say we’re not slaves, that we’re servants. Well, show me those differences. I have yet to see a single one.”

He clenched his teeth. If she wore the white sheet in public, she’d be stared at, talked about. Ogled. And yet how would that be any different from going out in the clothing she wore now? Either way, she was going to be judged. He sighed. “Wear whatever you’re comfortable in. When we get to the market, we can find something that pleases you and fits with the clan’s expectations.”

Her lips twitched in disgust. Before she could cut him with any more words, he said, “Vera, I’m trying. I understand this isn’t the best way, but I can’t change a society overnight.”

She closed her eyes, the lines on her face smoothing, and she nodded. “You’re right.” Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. “But know that if I’m forced to stay here, I plan to make changes.”

He smiled and brushed a stray bit of hair from her cheek. “I look forward to it.”

At his touch, she froze. Her lips parted around a soft exhale and drew his attention. He remembered their shape, the soft pillowy effect of her bottom lip, which was now healed, caught between his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to taste her again.

He dropped his hand and turned away. She was off limits. She deserved better than the degradation of a relationship between servant and benefactor.

She changed into her previous servant clothes instead of the bedsheet, and they left his house, angling toward the market district. A passing clan member stared too long in Vera’s direction, and Rayner bared his teeth until the man looked away. He placed a hand on the small of Vera’s back to guide her toward a merchant’s stall.

She paused, looking at a pale pink linen shirt on one of the display racks outside the stone building. He’d purposely brought her to the lower-end market; there was no sense in letting her see the pristine darker silks the upper market would have on display. Even so, the clothing suitable for a servant would be at the back of the store. “Let’s go inside.”

Inside, she twisted her neck to look around, marveling at the swooping ceiling and curving walls of the store. “How did the clan ever get this mountain hollowed out?”

The awe in her voice made his chest swell with pride. “It is said that Avilku, the first Vilkan shifter, made his den in the tallest peak. Every Alpha after him has worked to excavate more area. There are parts which are still undiscovered, and as the clan grows, we have room to expand.”

“You take in anyone?”

“Any refugee.” Rayner followed her as she browsed through the displays, her fingers trailing across the folds of silk. “We are a safe haven on Kladuu. It’s more than the other clans offer.”

“Do the other clans live in places as grand as this mountain?”

He tried not to linger on the fact that she’d called it grand. But he smiled as he said, “The Draqons live in hives down in the valley. The Arakids spin great webs. At the ocean’s edge, the Hyla have a great fortress made of glass. And the Katu call the jungle home, moving from one place to another in solitary groups.”

“Do they have space ships too?” She pretended to look closer at a shirtsleeve, but he could feel her gaze shift sideways at him through her lashes. Still trying to find a way home.

He signaled to the shopkeeper for assistance. “The Hylas have abolished all technology near their fortress, but the others—” He caught himself. “Anyway, you need not concern yourself with other clans as long as you stay within these walls.”

She turned to him. “Decallian said servants who try to leave are exiled. Is that true?”

He nodded. “If you leave without clan permission, you lose protection and you’re considered exiled. Outsiders not within the clan alliance between us, the Arakids, or the Hylas will be killed.”

“You automatically kill anyone not in the clan even though you allow refugees?”

“Vilkas do not kill on sight. But outside this mountain,” Rayner said, lowering his voice, “is a war zone. It’s not safe, Vera. There’s a reason only our soldiers go outside.”

Her nose wrinkled in consideration. Rayner was scared to know what was running through her mind at that moment. “If there are other outsiders here and all the shifters look human, why do all the servants hate me?”

He turned his head toward her, surprised. “They hate you?”

“It’s certainly not happy thoughts they’re thinking when they glare at me.” Vera shrugged, but he saw the flicker of pain in her eyes.

“I have no idea why that would be.”

The shopkeeper arrived then, gaze flitting between Rayner and Vera with unhidden curiosity.

“Please find some items for my servant,” he instructed.

“Something less revealing,” Vera added, and Rayner tensed. Servants never spoke up without being addressed. The shopkeeper’s eyes bugged as he turned to Rayner.

“You heard her.” Rayner waited until the man had moved away before turning to Vera. “The different shifting clans on this planet have been in conflict since the dawn of time. Kaveh’s worked hard creating alliances, but we’re still at war with the Draqons, and the Hylas have only just opened themselves to negotiations. The Katu kill anyone on sight and refuse any offer of peace. So you have to realize that newcomers are often treated with mistrust, and prejudices run deep here, especially with humans.”

Vera crossed her arms beneath the swell of her breasts. Rayner forced himself not to look. “What happened to the humans who lived here when the Vilka still participated in the flesh trade?”

Rayner thought about not telling her, but in the end, he owed it to her. “They tried to escape. We exiled them. I don’t know what happened to them, but they’re probably long dead or enslaved by the other clans who participate in the trade.”

Before she could ask any more questions, the shopkeeper returned with a few items he held out to Rayner for inspection. He waved him toward Vera. The set of the man’s mouth showed his disapproval, but he held out his arms with the clothing.

She sifted through them, settling on a homespun tunic that belted at the waist and fell to her knees and a deeper colored set of leggings. While Vera changed, the merchant deducted the credits from Rayner’s personal account, face neutral during the entire interaction, but word would get around fast; Rayner was dressing his servant as an equal clan member.

They left the store and wound through the crowd toward the donjon. Although Vera’s undeniable beauty still drew an appreciative glance or two, she no longer received quite the number of lascivious stares. The new outfit had been the right choice. She paused at several merchant stalls along the way, marveling at the fur pelts in one stall and the beaten copper bowls in another. Taking Rayner’s hand, she dragged him toward a noisy shop full of caged animals. His heart did a little flip-flop at the physical contact.

Still holding his hand, she paused in front of a sleek gray oihook, its beady eyes staring at her through the bars. “Oh, how cute!”

His flip-flopping heart about jumped out of his chest when she lifted a finger toward the bars, and he jerked her toward him. She collided with his chest, and he put his other arm around her to steady her. “Rayner,” she complained, slightly breathless.

A familiar voice said, “Watch it, they bite.”

Rayner turned his head to find Gerrit grinning at him, gaze flicking to Vera and back to Rayner’s face. Slightly behind him stood Nestan, Gerrit’s best friend and likely to be Beta after Gerrit became Alpha. He was also Savas’s illegitimate son, though Rayner held Nestan in much higher opinion than his father.

“Gerrit,” Rayner said with a nod to Nestan. “I didn’t expect to see you in this section of the market.”

“Who’s your lady friend?” Nestan said, an impish gleam in his eyes. Like his father, Nestan had wild, long hair, but he kept it brushed and pulled back in a high bun. A long scar cut through his right eyebrow.

Heat flooded Rayner’s face as he realized Vera still stood with her back against his chest. He pulled away. Normally, servants wouldn’t be introduced, especially to a royal. But Nestan had asked. “This is Vera. Vera, meet Gerrit, the Alpha’s heir. He’s the one who has given Niva a safe home. And this is Nestan.”

She held out a hand. “I’m glad to meet you both. Is Niva well?”

Gerrit gripped her hand. “Quite well. She’s actually the reason I’m here. To replace her torn dress.”

“Did you find her something appropriate?” Rayner asked.

The Alpha heir glanced at Vera’s clothes, and Rayner’s heartbeat spiked even though he knew the young man was no threat. Anyone looking at Vera seemed to make him want to let his claws out.

Gerrit grimaced and said, “She asked for something long like Gladia wears. Father said to allow it.”

Rayner raised his brows. Kaveh had taken an interest in the young girl? “Kaveh’s taken to the girl?”

Gerrit smiled. “I think having Niva around is good for him. He dotes on her like a granddaughter. And she seems to like him too.”

Nestan shook his head and added, “She cut off all her hair, though. Such a shame.”

“You can’t blame her after what happened,” Vera spoke, the air crackling with her anger. “She doesn’t want to be noticed.”

“A young, lovely woman like her—even with her hair chopped off—is still going to be noticed,” Gerrit said, looking directly at Vera. “But she’s well protected in the donjon.”

Vera’s shoulders relaxed. “When can I go see her?”

Gerrit spoke up. “Come by anytime. I’ll let the guards know you can pass.”

“Thank you,” Rayner said. “We’d better let you get on about your business, and I need to get to the arena to check on my trainees.”

As they departed the market, Vera kept close to his side, her head held high and the back of her hand brushing his with what felt like intention. Perhaps even affection. His chest swelled with pride to be seen with her.

For a brief moment, as they walked home, he allowed himself to picture a different reality, one where she wasn’t his servant, but Vilka. He would court her and follow after her like a pup. Eventually make her his mate. She’d wear his best silk, all in white.

His heart surged.

But it was just a fantasy. Vera could never be his.