But he hadn’t been able to help himself! And besides, he had been correct in saying that he ought to know her name if he was pretending to be her Master. That was the term that a Ma’shorkan woman called either her husband or her owner—though often they were one and the same.
He made certain that Selena walked in front of him so he could keep an eye on her for safety. He didn’t have a breast harness on her—which almost all Ma’shorkan males used on their Dependent Females. He was worried this might make him seem like a slightly lackadaisical Master. But as long as he stayed close to the little Elite and kept a close eye on her, everything should go smoothly.
Their long trip down the main concourse of the spaceport did in fact, go smoothly—whether because Valen looked menacing enough not to be bothered, or because the male who had tried to abduct Selena earlier had spread the word that the little Elite was trouble, he didn’t know. And honestly, he didn’t care. He just wanted to spare her any more trauma, since she’d already endured so much today already.
Selena marched ahead of him, head high, full breasts leading the way through her torn shirt. He had to admire her courage, (while he attempted to keep his eyes off her lovely breasts.) He knew this wasn’t easy for her—the ways of her people were much more modest than those of the Ma’shorkans. But she was a female of her word and having promised her friend to go to the palace, she seemed determined to do exactly that.
He stopped her when they came to a weigh station that didn’t look too crowded and was in a well-lighted area of the concourse.
“What’s this?” Selena asked, as she looked at the weight cubes. They looked like lighted boxes with one open side and they came in all different sizes to accommodate whatever luggage a traveler might bring in.
“This is a weigh station,” Valen explained, stepping up to a medium weight cube, about two feet square. It was in the center of the other cubes, which were arranged in a semi-circle on the side of the busy main concourse. There were smaller cubes, only about one foot square to his right, and much larger ones placed on the floor for larger, heavier luggage to his left.
Selena looked suddenly apprehensive.
“We have to do a weigh-in before we can leave the spaceport?”
“In Ma’shorka Centra, you do,” Valen told her. He frowned, because she looked really upset. “Why? What’s bothering you?”
“I just…I feel like someone’s weight is a really private thing, you know?” she said, her cheeks going pink with embarrassment. “So if you don’t mind, I’d rather keep it to myself.”
For a moment, he couldn’t understand why she was getting upset. Then he remembered their earlier conversation about Elites and how worried she’d been that he might be mad she had eaten too much of the fruit and cheese platter he’d ordered. She must think that he was intending to weigh her, rather than her luggage. But he still didn’t see why that would upset her.
“Is this about your curves, little one?” he asked, frowning.
Did her lovely, full shape make her feel inferior in some way? He honestly didn’t understand how that could be—she was gorgeous. But she seemed to have some kind of complex where it came to her body image.
“It…might be.” She was nibbling her lush lower lip, an unconsciously erotic gesture. “In my country, it’s considered rude to ask a woman’s weight or age,” she added.
“Well, it’s not really your weight that we’re taking here,” Valen explained. “It’s the weight of your luggage the Ma’shorkans are concerned with.”
“My luggage?” She looked vastly relieved and then more embarrassed than ever. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I’m just…sensitive about my weight, that’s all.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be—you should celebrate your curves,” Valen told her firmly. “You’re a gorgeous, curvy Elite, Selena—hold your head high.”
He saw a look of uncertainty—perhaps almost incredulity—flicker through her lovely, deep brown eyes. Had someone been telling her that she wasn’t beautiful, specifically because of her curves? Was it part of Earth culture to make an Elite feel bad because of what the Goddess had granted her?
It was hard to believe, but the way she was acting made Valen think it was true. He wished now that he’d spent more time studying Earth culture once he’d been assigned to the Mother Ship. But his vow never to take a bride had made him bitter—he hadn’t wanted to know any more than he had to about the small, blue and green planet where so many warriors were getting brides. Especially when he knew he would never be able to call one himself.
He wished he could make her see how beautiful she was—wished he could make her understand that she didn’t need to be ashamed of her curves. But there was no time for that now—he had to get her to the guard who was waiting for her, and then he would most likely never see her again.