Page 5 of Stars in Halo

He was fawned over wherever he went, with discreet offers, notes slipped onto his restaurant table, and gifts sent to his office in truckloads.

Even older ladies reached out and tugged his tresses without permission; others even dared to tap his ass as he walked by.

The reason for it all was always the same: his exceptional outward appearance.

Of which, the objectification was exceedingly real and freakin’ exhausting.

When he yielded to any woman’s unceasing flattery, it was fleeting. For sex and the quick fix it bestowed.

He never went deep with them.

He produced generalised statements in their direction. His dialogue was light and vague because few women stirred up a desire in him to dive into what made them tick because there was little of it.

He was uninterested in their shallow passions. Most had never read a book or travelled and waxed lyrical about themselves, their clothes, or their tedious fashion obsessions.

Most of the time, he remembered nothing about their inane chatter.

He also avoided PDA like the plague and had still to find the one woman he was proud to be seen with.

Still, Xion was the king of one-night stands, who’d cast himself as a serial playboy with no inkling of commitment.

When in the mood, he worked through the System’s most beautiful women, able to pick and choose as he pleased, from royals to celebrities.

Deep down, however, he was becoming increasingly bitter about how difficult it was to live in a universe where a man was expected to look his best but was punished for looking better than anyone else.

He hated the dumbed-down manner in which people talked to him. Many were unable to see past his features to his keen and switched-on mind and his thirst for knowledge.

His only solace was his job, keeping his rock home safe.

Also in his family, the Sable Riders. None of his brothers judged him; instead, they embraced and understood him for who he was: a regular man yearning for a deeper connection with those he loved.

‘Cry me a river,’ he muttered to himself, fully aware his pity party might soon attract a mini violinist at any moment.

What remained, however, was a longing so profound the ache never left him. He yearned for a woman, a soul mate who perceived his essence beyond his looks. One far removed from the pair ogling him at that moment.

His neural node pinged, and he knifed up, grateful for the distraction.

He acknowledged the caller. Mirage.

Where are you, Xion?

His brow furrowed. What d’you mean?

‘You’re late. You promised to be my eyes and ears at this game.

Xion slapped his forehead. Fokk, I forgot. So much going on. Sorry, it slipped my mind, he told the intelligence. Which room are you in?

Sapphire Star in the card salon, the Sable consigliere sniped.

Sleep was out of the question now, Xion groused to himself.

I’ll be there in ten.

Make it five.

Mirage was vexed, and letting them stay that way didn’t bode well for anyone.

Fast as I can leg it.

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