Page 21 of Aliens Love Curves

"Just getting some air," I manage, though my tail betrays me, swishing in response to her presence, she’s more beautiful than any being has a right to be.

"Just thinking," I manage.

She moves to stand beside me at the railing, close enough that I can feel her warmth. "About the shareholders?"

"Among other things."

She moves to stand beside me at the railing, close enough that I can feel her warmth. "The shareholders seem impressed."

"They'd be fools not to be." The words come out rougher than intended.

A gentle breeze plays with her hair, carrying her scent to me – flowers and stardust and something uniquely Casey. My tail twitches with the effort of maintaining distance.

"Harlan says they're meeting tomorrow to finalize their decision," she says softly. "If what you overheard is true..."

"It sounds promising." I turn to face her. "Casey, about the gardens—"

"Don't." She turns to face me, placing a finger against my lips. The touch sends electricity through my body. "Not tonight. Tonight, we focus on the mission."

I catch her hand before she can withdraw it, pressing a kiss to her palm. Her breath hitches, pupils dilating. The moonlight plays across her skin, making her appear almost ethereal.

"Stryker..." My name on her lips is half warning, half plea.

"Casey?" Harlan's voice floats from the ballroom. "Where did you disappear to?" The moment is instantly broken.

She steps back quickly, composing herself. A slight tremor in her hands is the only evidence of our charged exchange. "Coming!"

With one last look – filled with confusion and want and things we can't allow ourselves to say – she returns to the ball. To Harlan. To our mission.

I remain on the balcony, the phantom sensation of her skin against my lips a sweet torture. The moons continue their dance across the sky, indifferent to the complexities of hearts and duties below.

Inside, I watch as Harlan claims Casey for another dance. His technique is perfect, his movements graceful, but there's something calculated in his attention that sets my teeth on edge. When his hand slides lower on Casey's back, my claws dig into the balcony railing, leaving marks in the polished surface.

The night wind carries snippets of conversation from nearby balconies – shareholders discussing profit margins, engineers debating thrust ratios, socialites trading gossip. But all I can focus on is the way Casey's dress catches the light as she turns, the memory of her warmth against me, the growing certainty that I'm in far too deep.

Whatever we uncover about these mysterious shipments, whatever danger lurks beneath Quickening Gliders' gleaming surface, my greatest threat may be my own heart.

As the last dance ends and the ball begins to wind down, I make my way back inside. We have a mission to complete, secrets to uncover, roles to play. But watching Casey bid farewell to Harlan, seeing the way his eyes follow her movement, I know one thing with absolute certainty, I'm in deep trouble.

And the worst part is, I don't want to be saved.

Chapter 11 - Casey

My muscles ache as I push through another simulation run, sweat beading on my forehead despite the climate-controlled cockpit. I've been at this for hours, learning every nuance of the SkyDancer X1's handling, every quirk in its responses.

"Excellent form on that inverse roll," Harlan's voice purrs through the comm. "Your instincts are remarkable, Casey."

I switch on the simulator's viewport, so I can see both Harlan and Stryker and Harlan. They stand shoulder-to-shoulder, each in their physical prime. Harlan is standing erect on the observation deck, his cerise skin gleaming under the artificial lights. Beside him, Stryker stands rigid, his tail twitching in that way I've learned means he's agitated.

"You're a natural in the X1, darling," Harlan's voice purrs through the comm. I swear he’s being deliberately intimate. "The way you handle her... absolutely magnificent."

I catch Stryker's reflection in the simulator's viewport, see his fists ball at the endearment. Harlan's timing is too perfect – he always seems to know exactly when Stryker is watching.

"Just doing my job," I reply neutrally, executing another complex manoeuvre.

"Mmm, but you do it so... beautifully," Harlan continues, his voice like silk. "The way you anticipate every movement, how you respond to each touch of the controls. It's almost... sensual."

A low growl escapes Stryker, and I can see Harlan's smile widens. I should be paying more attention to my training and not have to police the two alien men who are fighting for my affections. Watching them is almost as exhausting as flying this simulation flight.

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