Orient Fevre

Levy laughed. “We’re still ironing out a few kinks. Violet isn’t yet accustomed with D’Keghan tradition.”

The ambassador let out an understanding sigh. “But you claimed her in the Kisacte-nya Zharaiha?”

“Indeed.”

“Then it’s official. When are you going to break the news to the king?”

“Soon.” Levy looked at me. “Very soon.”

“Congratulations.” The ambassador beamed. “Then you won’t mind if I have Miss Cross’ dance?”

“Absolutely not.” Levy lifted my hand and proffered it to Ambassador Rothwell. He winked. “Behave,” he mouthed. He patted his breast pocket where he had the remote to my pleasure bullet.

I wondered what the penalty was for murder on this planet? The ambassador took my hand and I had no choice but to dance with him. He swept me to the middle of the floor and we glided among the guests. I was a terrible dancer, but the ambassador was a good sport. He didn’t mind I stepped on his foot so many times.

“Miss Violet Cross,” Ambassador Rothwell broke our ice. “If you would be so kind as to quench my curiosity, how did you meet Prince al’Tarakh?”

“In a bar.” I was to the point.

“In a bar?” the ambassador echoed. His voice was laced with amusement. “Did he approach you and tell you you’re his mate? Draconians are brazen when it comes to claiming their women. I heard the prince had been on a quest for a bride for a while.”

“No. I paid him a thousand credits for a quickie. And he tricked me.”

The ambassador laughed heartily. “My dear, that is simply enchanting. The king will be delighted when he hears this story.”

Oh, brother. I obliged the ambassador in small talk as I caught Levy’s eyes. He

stood near the ice sculpture. He had a flute of champagne in his hand, sipping it as he watched me dance. When I flipped a finger in his direction, he reached into his pocket. I stiffened a moment later. The bullet hummed harder. Fuck. A hot flush rushed through me. I had to stop. I couldn’t dance anymore. All I could feel was the thrumming of the bullet. I had to end this madness. And kill Levy. Forget the gun, I’d strangle him with my bare hands.

“Are you okay, child?” Ambassador Rothwell looked concerned.

“I need some air, Ambassador. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not.” The ambassador patted my hand lovingly. He escorted me back to Levy. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Cross. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He gave my hand back to Levy. “Your dhamari is a lovely woman, Prince al’Tarakh.”

I’m not his freaking wife, I muttered under my breath. Geezes! I grabbed Levy’s arm and dug my nails into his expensive suit, letting him know that his shenanigans were over. “Let’s go back to the ship. Party’s over.”

“Wonderful. My stateroom or yours?” Levy put down his champagne flute.

“Neither. I’ve had enough of your game.”

“No deal. I’m enjoying this party.”

“As your bodyguard, I’ll say your safety had been compromised. I have the authority to haul your sorry ass back to the ship.”

Levy cast me a naughty grin. He patted his pocket.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Let’s go, kitten. I know just how to scratch your itch.” He seized my arm and swept me towards the balcony.

“Levy!”

“Sssh, you don’t want to make a scene, do you?”

Like a fool, a semi-dazed, lusted drunkard, I let Levy steer me to a private balcony. He paused to close the glass doors. A cool breeze whispered around us. The terrace sounded so silent. The noises from the music and the crowd were muffled.

“Now, where were we?”