Page 26 of A Delicate Conquest

Huh. Fair call.

Suddenly, Zharek wasn’t so irritating anymore. The last thing Bea had expected was for him to say all these nice things about Mavrel after Mavrel had nearly choked him to death.

She thought about how she felt when she was working on one of her paintings—how she’d slip into a flow state and lose herself, letting the art itself dictate her brushstrokes.

She’d lose track of time.

The painting wouldn’t always go to plan—sometimes it would turn out better, sometimes worse—but when she was done, it would always feelright.

Maybe this was a little bit like that.

TEN

After her treatmentwith Zharek was done, Bea was escorted by Ortan—who piloted a floating transporter—to a lounge area, where she was supposed to wait for Mavrel to return with her shoe.

She didn’t really understand why he, a highly trained tech guy, would be tasked with fixing a damn shoe, but she wasn’t complaining.

Somehow, it had been decided that he would accompany her to the ball.

A date, if you will.

One that was complicated by the existence of this so-called Mating Fever.

“Please, have a seat. Make yourself at ease.” Ortan offered her a stiff, oddly formal bow. “If you would like, I can request that one of the humans come and keep you company while you wait.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Bea awkwardly sat down in a comfortable armchair. “I’m fine to wait on my own.”

She didn’t want to drag anyone away from the big event, and she didn’t really have the headspace for socializing right now, especially with someone she’d never met before.

After everything Zharek had revealed, she just wanted to take some time to regain her composure and try to process it all.

“Very well. I’ll take my leave, then. If there’s anything you require, just say. The system will pick up on your voice-activated commands or requests, and I’ll be summoned.” He pointed his chin in the direction of a small kitchen-type area. It looked surprisingly human in its design, as did the rest of the room. “Refreshments are available from the bots.”

“Thank you. Ortan.”

The Kordolian disappeared, leaving Bea to study her new surroundings.

She wriggled her toes in the fluffy slippers she’d been provided. They were pale blue and impossibly soft.

Ridiculous.

The aliens on this vast and highly advanced space station were considerate enough to provide slippers in her exact size—as if she were in a fancy hotel.

It was a bit of a flex on their part—that they had the time, resources, and knowledge to cater to her on this level.

They already knew herthiswell.

Bea leaned back in her chair and looked around the room.

It was a modestly sized space, with a sleek minibar in one corner equipped with all the mod-cons and two cozy armchairs in the middle—one of which she currently occupied.

This was the first time she’d seen decent lighting anywhere on the station. Lights in curved sconces illuminated the space with a warm golden glow.

It actually felt rather cozy and relaxing, as if she were in the VIP lounge area in some fancy bar.

For the time being, she was okay. Safe. The Kordolians had done everything to put her at ease, even though it had been a wild ride so far.

Bea thought about the unlikely series of events that had led to her being here. Mavrel and his boss showing up at Garner Tower—and the chaos that ensued. Her good friend Clarissa getting pulled into the orbit of a high-ranking Kordolian called Jerik Garul and deciding that she would indeed like to pursue the relationship further—at Bea’s urging, no less. After all, Bea had heardthingsabout Kordolians. Seductive, too-good-to-be-true things.

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