“Zerura,” Hannah said. “What does that mean?” They stood in the entryway of Club Zerura, the most decadent explosion of music and alcohol Hannah could ever have imagined possible.
“It’s from one of the three languages still spoken on Lurra—the second most common. And Zerura means ‘heaven’.”
“Heaven,” Hannah said. “Define heaven,” she added under her breath. They looked down into a pit, as black as an E2 night—except for strategically placed lighting. A primal beat vibrated heavily enough to seep into Hannah’s bones. Her hips moved back and forth, already addicted to the music.
Zerura oozed seduction and intoxication.
“Come,” Mikolaus said. He led her down the stairs and headed to a back wall where there were several quieter tables for two. “Here,” he said. “Where we can talk.”
Hannah sat in the low chair and lounged with her back to the wall, the spectacle of Zerura before her. There was a designated floor space for couples—or triples or quads—to dance, but women also danced on elevated platforms around the room and on high perches against the wall. Their shockingly revealing costumes, combined with explicit gyrations offered only one suggestion. Hannah’s own simmering tension ratcheted up another notch.
Bare skin—much more than Hannah’s clothing showed—was the norm in Zerura. She should have been forewarned when her outfit was delivered. A sleeveless, shining, silver tunic was cut low in the front, leaving her chest quite exposed. A black leather girdle cinched in her waist with ties that laced in the back. Her black boots were short with a spiked heel.
When Mikolaus arrived for her, he looked her up and down. “One thing I would change,” he said softly.
Hannah looked down. “What can I change? The ensemble arrived as you see it.” She turned around before him to prove her point.
He drew her to the mirror and stood behind her. “This is what I would change.” He pulled off the tie holding her braid and undid her tresses, then picked up a brush and drew it through her hair until her hair shined and crackled.
Hannah rarely let her hair loose. Naturally straight, it hung to her waist in a fiery fall of red and gold silk.
“Now,” he said, looking over her shoulder into the mirror. “Now you are ready to be a true goddess.”
Having her hair down in public was as foreign to Hannah as bare flesh. She was surprised at how liberating loose hair felt.
“Kastasha,” Mikolaus said when their drinks arrived. “Made from a Lurran fruit.”
Hannah eyed the small shot glass with a quick assessment of where this night was headed.
A hot coal of anticipation settled low in her belly, fed by the music, the dancers, the sheer vitality of Lurra. She picked up her glass. “Salute,” she offered.
Mikolaus picked up his glass. “To the goddess.”
Hannah added, “To the triad.”
She shot the beverage. Tears instantly filled her eyes and she blinked as molten fire coursed down her throat. “Oh,” she squeaked.
Mikolaus laughed. He clapped her on the back and commanded, “Breathe.”
Tears streamed from Hannah’s eyes, and she gulped a deep breath. “Whoa, baby,” she gasped, laughing a bit at herself.
When she regained her equilibrium, she relaxed and let the drink work. She sat back and watched dancers. The interesting combinations intrigued her. “How do they do it?”
“Do you not know how to do it?” Mikolaus asked. He leaned towards her, his voice low and teasing, his eyes glittering with mischief. He picked up her hand and brought her palm to his lips.
Hannah’s insides fluttered when he touched her and her heart throbbed with as much expectation as the rest of her body. “I meant the triad,” she said, resisting the double entendre. “How do triads come together?”
Mikolaus looked around the room. “There,” he motioned.
At a table, three women were approached by a single man. “He probably is part of a triad and is looking for a single female to introduce to his brothers.” Hannah watched as one of the women smiled and nodded, and the man drew her to the dance floor.
“And there?” she asked, as a young woman approached a table full of men. “What’s the protocol in that case?”
Mikolaus tilted his head, watching the group with interest, gauging the social implications of what he saw. “I don’t think many of those men are matched in triads yet. That particular woman may be more interested in assembling a triad that pleases her, as opposed to marrying into one that’s already complete.”
“Which is more common?”
He opened his hand in a kind of shrug. “Before, the men were more likely to form triads first. Now? Many younger women prefer to have more control over their triads.”
Mikolaus ordered another round. “Did you like the Kastasha?” A smirk lingered at the corner of his mouth.
Hannah laughed as she threw her hair over her shoulder. Mikolaus’ approval shined in his eyes. He smiled and flashed his teeth, easy and engaging. The giddy sensation filled Hannah’s belly and she was assailed again by the addictive rush of entering uncharted territory.
Their drinks arrived. This time, Hannah sipped hers with respect.
“Over there,” Mikolaus nodded with his head toward yet a third group, “is a prospective female meeting her triad.”
“How does the triad come together—I mean, if the woman doesn’t assemble it?” Hannah asked. The Kastasha was growing on her and she swallowed half her shot.
“Triad members are inseparable brothers for life and often come together from childhood. Our entire society is built on the quad structure, from government and religion on down. From childhood, we are raised to assume a place in a triad and succeed as a quad. When a triad finds a mate, they marry and become a quad. The brothers have equal standing.”
“What about children? How do you know who the father is?”
“Why would that matter? Every triad brother is father to the children.”
Her eyes roamed to the dance floor again, where a couple danced like Hannah had never seen before. Just watching them made her mouth dry and her insides all but cry out with longing.
She saw the drink servitor and ordered another round.
Mikolaus was silent, save for his raised eyebrows. When the drinks came, he lifted his glass.
Hannah was warm from the Kastasha—and from Mikolaus’s presence. The beat of the music coursed through her veins, tugging at her hips and her feet, making her want to move. She stood and picked up her glass. “To Lurra,” she said. Her hips swayed from side to side, her feet stepping in time.
Mikolaus stood and shot his glass of Kastasha.
Hannah followed. She wiped the tears from her eyes and held her hand out to Mikolaus. “Dance with me,” she said. “Like that.”
He led her to a space on the floor. “Give me your hands,” he said. When he held hers, he added, “Step closer.”
A thrill of pure, wanton desire ripped through Hannah. She stepped in until her groin pressed against Mikolaus, imitating the other dancers.
“Now lightly step, rotating the hips side to side, always staying connected,” Mikolaus instructed.
Hannah smiled at his tutorial manner, for his solid shaft pressing against her body said more. She sighed and let her head roll back. Mikolaus leaned forward and kissed her neck, sending more shivers through her limbs.
He laced his fingers with hers, his face was close enough for his deepening breath to fan her ear. The rock-hard length of him pushed against her.
I want him inside me.