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EYES FORWARD. DON’T look at him.
Despite repeating those words to herself over and over again, Atlanta’s eyes still slid to the right to focus on the Kgosi as he breezed into the ballroom wearing his free-flowing, ankle-length robe. Light seemed to dance off every fiber of his clothing. He didn’t just sparkle, he dazzled. His hair was styled in one long braid draped over his shoulder and generous eyelashes framed eyes that were too observant.
Like every time she saw him, she caught her breath.
He stalked across the room, greeting guests as he passed. Everything around him seemed to stop. The palace staff, invited guests, off-worlders, and guards paused and turned their attention in his direction. As he moved, his gaze danced from person to person, searching.
His gaze settled on her and a shock jolted through her body, making her overtly aware of his presence. His very being.
The air in her lungs seized. Her heart refused to beat properly. For the few seconds he’d held her eyes captive, there was nothing else. No one else.
Then he broke eye contact and she was empty. Lonely.
His off-world guests promptly forgot about whatever else they were doing, and who they were talking to, and went to him.
Get it together.
Atlanta forced her gaze away from the Kgosi and assessed the room. It was grand for sure. High vaulted ceilings with a realistic painted sky, complete with planets. Crystal light fixtures depicted stars. The walls were painted in differing shades of greens and tans, with splashes of other colors. Three-dimensional designs of a forest seemed to leap from them. The tables and chairs didn’t take away from the outdoorsy feel, but added to it. The set-up looked more like a grand picnic than what it really was—an exclusive dinner party.
Per the agenda, the event was an informal gathering to introduce the guests to local merchants, business owners, palace staff and the Kgosi’s family. Although it was listed as an informal event, everyone in attendance was dressed extravagantly. Instead of sitting around and eating, many of the plates of the off-world guests had been left untouched on the tables while they showered the Kgosi with their attention. The locals were left to eat alone or mingle amongst themselves.
It seemed the guests didn’t realize they were meant to network with the Kgosi’s people. Instead they found him more interesting.
Well, I don’t blame them. He is interesting.
Atlanta tried to ignore everything about him. But nothing about him was ignorable.
One of the off-world guests, Bienke, a Godried, let her head fall back on a peal of laughter. She was beautiful, with a plump body and ample breasts. She had dark skin that shimmered, and under the current lighting, looked more purple than black. Hair just as dark as her complexion billowed around her, framing her face, accentuating her striking features. It was only natural for the Kgosi to return her smile and lean a little closer. He seemed to like her.
Just when Atlanta had stopped looking at the Kgosi, the weight of his stare was on her. Again. Her chest grew tight and her breaths came out shallow and pained. She willed herself not to meet his stare.
Atlanta could look at his clothes, his hair, even his shoes. But meeting his eyes was always a mistake. She didn’t understand what happened every time their gazes locked. It was a feeling she couldn’t categorize.
A glass shattered, breaking her concentration. Atlanta was glad to turn her focus on where the noise had come from. A waitress was crouched and picked up the glass that had been knocked over. A Ngonyama merchant stood over the waitress. Atlanta was about to dismiss them both. An accident had occurred and the merchant was apologizing profusely. But why did he look scared instead of embarrassed? And why did he keep flicking his gaze at the Kgosi with what looked like regret in his eyes?
Hm.
Now that she studied him closer, the merchant fidgeted with the cuffs of his tunic too often to be considered habit. He was nervous—extremely—about something. By the way he kept watching the Kgosi it had something to do with him.
The waitress stood, talked briefly with the merchant in hushed and hurried tones, then departed, weaving through the guests then out of sight. The waitress resembled the other waitstaff in dress and looks, but there was something slightly off about her. Her gait didn’t quite match the others. Atlanta couldn’t put her finger on it, but she didn’t belong. Not with this group of Ngonyamas anyway.
Atlanta glanced toward Una. She hadn’t moved. She was still enthralled by the Kgosi, as was everyone else who’d surrounded him and wouldn’t give him an inch of room. Standing to one side, not quite with the group, was a Halaliel, one of the hopefuls the Kgosi had invited.
The problem? She wasn’t a Halaliel at all. She was a Nisroc, a shapeshifting species. They generally were law abiding people, as they knew how other species mistrusted them and they’d spent generations trying to repair their reputation. They’d even agreed to a registration program. Any Nisroc visiting a planet had to complete a registration, alerting the authorities of their intent and obtain permission.
The Nisroc didn’t alarm Atlanta. She was sure the Kgosi and his security staff were well informed of her. She wasn’t doing much to hide what she actually was. The shimmering effect on her face and exposed arms was a giveaway to the shifting her skin was maintaining. The Nisroc could mimic most species and did it as often as another person would change their clothes. Her impersonating the shape of a Halaliel wasn’t cause for alarm. She may have used that form because she thought the Kgosi was partial to it.
The Kgosi placed his hand on one of the guest’s arm as he talked, and the Nisroc stepped closer, seemingly interested in something another guest said.
The Kgosi lowered his hand, minus rings, and continued his conversation, while the Nisroc nimbly stepped away. In less than a second the Nisroc had slipped two rings off the Kgosi’s fingers.
Thief.
Oh, she’s good.
Should she tell the palace guards? Protecting the Kgosi from getting robbed really wasn’t a part of Atlanta’s job. She didn’t want to overstep her boundaries. If the Nisroc began stealing from Una then she would get involved.
Another laugh peeled through the air. This time it came from Una, who’d stepped between the Kgosi and the person he’d been talking to. “Ha, ha, ha. You’re so delightfully witty, Kgosi Melisizwe.”
Thankfully, Una had requested Atlanta keep her distance and watch over her from afar. Which Atlanta did, gladly. She didn’t want to be around that display of complete fakeness and desperation anyway.
“Would you care for something to drink? Eat?”
Atlanta turned to find Payton and Chikondi standing next to her. They were both dressed for the occasion in simple yet elegant gowns. Chikondi had multi-colored ribbons that matched her dress braided into her hair. Payton had three braids in the front of her hair, one over each ear and a larger one at the front and center of her head. The rest of her hair was gathered off her face with a binding. The gold crowns on their heads distinguished them as royalty, and Atlanta didn’t miss the palace guards who stood not far behind them.
Chikondi had been the one who’d asked the question. She had a glass in one hand and a small tray of snacks in the other. “You haven’t moved in over an hour. You must be exhausted.”
Atlanta looked toward Una again. She wasn’t paying attention to Atlanta. “You shouldn’t talk to me here. I’m on duty,” she whispered. “But no,” she added quickly. “I ate before arriving.”
“You should at least try one,” Payton offered. “It tastes like some kind of meat paste. The taste grows on you.”
Atlanta shook her head. “I can’t. If my client sees me eating on duty I could get in a lot of trouble.”
“You can try it later when you get back to your room.” Payton turned to Chikondi. “What’s this called?”
“Meat paste,” Chikondi said.
Payton shook her head. “Probably why I never selected this from the food processor. The name sounds utterly disgusting.” She looked at Atlanta. “But you should totally try it.”
Was she making new friends? Was this how other species made friends? “Th-thank you.”
Atlanta glanced toward Una again to find her fear had come true. Una and the others around her stared at Atlanta. And they didn’t seem happy.
“I think you should leave me alone,” Atlanta whispered. “Una doesn’t like when you talk to me.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s my talking to you that has her so upset,” Payton said.
Just then Una left the group and marched toward Atlanta. She had a determined look in her eyes. Atlanta braced herself. She should’ve sent Payton and Chikondi away immediately or at least walked away from them. “I should probably—”
“I trust you’re enjoying yourself?” The deep voice came from behind her.
Atlanta turned to the Kgosi standing a few feet away. With him this close she could smell his scent. Outdoors. Wild. Heat. Sex.
Mmmm.
He smelled just as jaw dropping wonderful as she’d imagined.
“Yes, thank you.” Una replied from over Atlanta’s shoulder.
The Kgosi didn’t take his eyes off Atlanta. “And you?”
Atlanta took a healthy step to the side, almost bumping into Chikondi. She wanted to be anywhere besides in the middle of the Kgosi and Una.
Una frowned, glancing from the Kgosi to Atlanta, then back to the Kgosi. Any confusion on her face moments before dropped away, and a coy smile slid easily into place. Una’s demeanor relaxed from uptight to teasing within seconds. She angled her body toward the Kgosi and leaned forward.
“I’m enjoying my stay. The rooms are adequate, but not the luxury I’m used to at home.” She fluttered the fake glittering eyelashes Aiko had meticulously placed on her eyelids. “I do understand everyone was given the same accommodations as to not set any one person apart from the others.”
God. Una had probably learned the art of flirting from an experienced courtesan for this very scenario; securing a match.
Atlanta didn’t have use for flirting in her line of work and it wasn’t something practiced by the Oncun. They either liked someone or they didn’t. It was as simple as a short conversation to see where the other’s affection lay.
“Atlanta?” the Kgosi asked, looking pointedly at her.
Atlanta paused. Shocked. Had he actually said her name? Was it a trick of her ears?
Well, he was staring at her. For good measure she looked over her shoulder to see if there was someone behind her who had a like-sounding name.
The Kgosi chuckled. “I’m speaking to you.”
There was no mistaking who he addressed now. Not with the way her heart hammered against her chest.
“Yes, Kgosi?” Her mouth felt dry and her tongue too heavy.
“Atlanta Georgia Moore. That’s an interesting name. Payton told me that your mother named you after her birth place on Earth?”
“I’m sorry I discussed you behind your back. But he wanted to know about you,” Payton said.
He wanted to know about her? To have the Kgosi notice her? That was simply not heard of. She was a guard. Staff. No one of importance. If she was in her right mind, she would excuse herself for her client’s sake. But Atlanta couldn’t move. “Yes, she did.”
The Kgosi stuck his hand out in front of Atlanta. She frowned. What was he offering her? His hand was empty.
“She wouldn’t understand that greeting, Melis,” Payton said. “I told you she’s never been to Earth. That particular greeting is an Earth one.”
Earth greeting? She wanted to learn too. Atlanta stuck out her hand, mimicking the Kgosi. The backs of their hands were parallel to each other.
A laugh burst from Payton. “Here. Let me help you.”
She arranged Atlanta’s hand, slipping it into the Kgosi’s. His tail swished behind him as he clasped his fingers around her hand. His hand was warm, firm and strong. It felt...good.
While her client watched, wide-eyed and mouth ajar, Atlanta held onto the Kgosi’s hand. Warning bells went off in her head, but she ignored them. She’d just learned an Earth greeting.
The Kgosi shook her hand up and down with his. “Very nice to meet you. I’m Kgosi Melisizwe bu Kumkani, but all of my friends call me Melis.”
“Very nice to meet you. I’m Atlanta Georgia Moore of Luur, Personal Guard Rank Four, but my friends call me Lanta.”
“Lanta.” Her name rolled off his tongue on a sexual wave of heat. “I like the sound of that.”
She’d never thought her name special, but hearing it in his specific baritone, with its purr-like quality, made her change her mind. He could say her name over and over again.
Atlanta watched their hands move in unison, wondering what would come next. He stopped the hand motion, but didn’t make a move to release hers.
“Since Payton has come to live with us, we’re learning many human customs. She did tell me you’ve never been to Earth, but I thought maybe you learned this particular greeting from your mother?”
Her mom had talked to her a lot about Earth, and she knew some things, but those lessons and trips into her mom’s memory had ended so long ago. Atlanta couldn’t form her mouth to make any sound so she shook her head.
The Kgosi’s thumb rubbed over hers and Atlanta’s breath hitched at the contact. It felt too familiar. Too intimate.
The Oncun didn’t believe in overt displays of affection, not even with children. Her mother showed her affection while they were alone, but only when alone. As Atlanta grew, she’d began pulling away from the affection she was given behind closed doors. She’d thought, in her youth, that even in privacy the Oncuns would know she was being treated differently. She was sure they would’ve found out somehow, which would’ve led to more shunning.
Only after her mother died, when the affection stopped altogether, did Atlanta begin to miss it. There were no more hugs. No hello or goodbye kisses. No hand squeezes in passing. No smiles directed only toward her. No Momma.
Holding hands with the Kgosi took her back to a time long ago, but not forgotten.
Emotions came crashing over her. Guilt and longing were at the forefront.
“Generally, you wouldn’t continue to hold her hand,” Payton said. “To hold it long after the handshake is over is reserved for mates or would-be mates. It shows romantic interest.”
The Kgosi didn’t seem to hear what Payton said. From the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t let her go anytime soon and that was fine with Atlanta. Her heart fluttered at the thought. The warning bells became distant noise.
“You should let go before you make her feel uncomfortable,” Payton added quietly.
That seemed to pull the Kgosi from whatever he’d been thinking. Although he didn’t release her hand, he turned his gaze from Atlanta and looked at Payton. “Uncomfortable?”
“Yes,” Payton said.
The Kgosi let go of Atlanta. “My apologies. As I’ve said before, I’m still learning human customs.”
Atlanta wasn’t sure what to do with her hand now that she was free. She wanted to hold it up and announce to everyone that the Kgosi had held it. She wanted to smell it to see if it now held his wonderful scent. She wanted to reach out and touch him again. In the end, she dropped her hand to her side.
“She’s just my personal guard.” Una huffed. “You don’t need to apologize to her.”
Atlanta had forgotten about Una. Some personal guard she was.
The Kgosi’s eyes darkened. “I’m aware. If an apology is warranted. I’ll give it. To anyone.”
Una tossed her hair and angled her shoulders at the same time. “I wasn’t sure if you were aware, since you’re engaging her in conversation.” Una might as well have added, “While I’m standing right here, throwing myself at you.”
Atlanta knew Una was bold, but even she hadn’t known just how bold Una could be. She’d reprimanded the Kgosi and turned on the charm at the same time.
“Am I forbidden to speak with her?” the Kgosi asked. His voice was low, and although it was an innocent enough question, the underlying effect wasn’t innocent at all.
A hint of confusion appeared on Una’s face, but she recovered quickly. “Of course not. But on Pheilit we don’t generally engage hired help, especially those who are meant to be seen and not heard. But I understand hierarchical boundaries may not be as well established on Ipakethe.” She glanced around. Her eyes were full of disdain as she did. “I can tell by the guests you’ve invited. Don’t worry. With my help, I’ll correct all your blundering ways.”
“This isn’t Pheilit,” Payton said through gritted teeth. “We treat everyone as equals.”
The Kgosi laid a hand on Payton’s arm. “We understand your customs as well. We also understand she has been hired to protect you. We will not engage her while on duty. Please excuse us while we tend to the other guests.”
––––––––
A SNARL, DEEP AND LOW, came from Payton’s throat as she watched across the room where Una was deep in conversation with Atlanta. No, to Melis, she was Lanta now. Melis knew they weren’t friends, not yet anyway, but one day...maybe.
“Calm yourself, sister.”
“I hope you aren’t thinking about picking her, Melis. She’s rude and....and...an asshole,” Payton seethed. “She’s just a big fat...hairy...butt.”
Melis had learned not to take what Payton said literally, something everyone who was close to her was getting used to. Princess Una wasn’t hairy, big or a butt, but she was rude.
“I haven’t decided who I’ll pick but she’s a good candidate. Her mother rules an entire planet and has a seat on the Galactic Council. Not because of her connections, but because everyone else is scared of her. Her army is one of the most feared in this sector of the galaxy.”
Payton blanched. “I don’t care who her mother is. I’ll be damned if I call her sister.”
“Uh, oh,” Themba said as he settled next to Payton. “You’re upsetting my mate, Melis. What have you done?”
“I told her I might pick the princess from Pheilit as my mate.”
“I swear, if you do, I won’t support this wedding. Did you hear how she treated Lanta! Like she was a...a...” Payton sputtered.
“Personal guard?” Themba asked.
Payton punched him on the arm. “Not you too!”
“He would never pick someone like that,” Chikondi said softly. “Her Ngonyama assistant has already told me she’s vile and I’ve passed the information along to Melis.”
Payton rounded on Melis. “If you already know she’s a horrible person, then why are you even entertaining the idea of bonding with her?”
Melis lifted a shoulder. “To see you get riled up?” At Payton’s wide-eyed expression he added, “I couldn’t help teasing you. Of course, I wouldn’t pick someone like her.”
“O.M.G. I could strangle you. My emotions are already on ten when it comes to Lanta.” Payton turned toward the pair again.
This time Una was staring at Melis, her arms crossed and fingers digging into what seemed like purplish skin. Lanta stood stoned-faced behind her.
“I want to save her, Melis. It’s not right that she’s the only human on her planet. It’s just. Not. Right.”
“Do you think she needs saving? She isn’t a captive. She could go anywhere she wants. She’s probably happy,” Themba said.
“Look at that face. Does she look happy?” she seethed.
“She doesn’t have any expression at all,” Chikondi said.
“Come, my ndebele,” Themba coaxed. “Let’s get some dessert.”
“Dessert? Why do you think dessert will solve this situation?” Payton grumbled.
“I’ve been tracking your periods. You’re due for a cycle. You get emotional and mean a few days beforehand.”
Payton’s eyes widened. “Themba! Seriously? That’s alone talk only.”
Themba frowned. “I’m sorry. You don’t need desserts?”
Payton threw up her hands. “I do! Jesus, what am I going to do with you?”
“Let me—”
“Absolutely not! You stay here with your comedian brother.” She grabbed Chikondi’s arm and pulled her away. “Come with me.”
As Chikondi was being led away she lifted her shoulders and looked back, as if saying, “Now look what you’ve done.”
“Do I even want to know what that was all about?” Mxolisi said as he walked over to stand next to Themba.
“Apparently, Payton didn’t like my teasing and didn’t like that Themba pointed out she will be going into heat soon.”
Mxolisi tilted his head to the side, deep in thought. “As I remember correctly, she didn’t like it very much when the two of you did the same thing last month.”
“Did we?” Melis frowned, trying to remember.
“Hm, I can’t recall,” Themba said, looking equally as confused.
“Next month I’ll be sure to remind you both a few days beforehand to leave her alone.”
“What have you done?” The yell came from the far right.
All three of them turned toward the sound. The laughter and chatter hadn’t died down. The music from the band played on. Nothing seemed amiss.
“What was that all about?” Mxolisi asked, with a frown.
Besides a few guards also looking toward the general vicinity of the shout, everything remained the same.
Then, “He has a blaster!”
“She was going to kill me!”
“Run!”
As the music petered out, everyone turned toward the outbursts. A male Melis didn’t recognize clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers. He waved a blaster wildly in his other hand.
“She stabbed me!” he yelled.
That was all the crowd needed. Panic ensued.
Mxolisi and Themba ran toward their mates, who weren’t too far from where the speaker stood. He turned in a wobbly circle, blaster still aimed at nothing, everything. The crowd ducked and yelled whenever the wounded male waved the weapon their way. Payton and Chikondi dove underneath the food table, only to be dragged out and whisked away by their guards, leaving Mxolisi and Themba to run after them.
Melis hurried through the crowd, searching for Lanta and only breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her pushing Princess Una through the melee and out the door.
He started as a hand gripped his arm.
“This way!” Enne said.
“I should make sure the off-world guests are accounted for and unhurt.”
“Taken care of. Your safety is my only directive.” Then Enne turned to one of the guards running past them. “Take possession of that guest. We need answers!”
Melis knew there was no use fighting Enne. He was the head of security, and his only job was keeping Melis safe. Melis let Enne lead him from the ballroom, through the swell of panic.
He hoped he could salvage what was left of his reputation and his plans. “Take me to my office.”
“We really need to get you to your suite and on lock down, Kgosi.”
“No, I want to review the security footage.”
As he was being whisked away, Melis passed Isra. There was a look of wild panic in her eyes. The damage was already done. He knew Ipakethe’s reputation for civil unrest. It was one of the reasons they couldn’t improve their planet ranking. The in-fighting. This upheaval might prove disastrous to his bid to secure a mate.