Alien Brute's Captive - Aya Morningstar Page 0,39

takes us on a tour of the vineyard.

“The habitat is specially designed to let in just the right amount of sunlight,” she says. “And the soil is rigorously controlled on a molecular level.”

I nod. It’s impressive that they can design a fucking habitat for wine. Most habitats are trying to figure out how to cram the most bodies in as efficiently as possible so that people can live their lives without being miserable. This place can design its entire infrastructure around growing grapes.

Still, Dathros Mi Eukarion wouldn’t see it like that. He’d have a poker face, so I do, too.

“I see,” I say. “Eukarios had very good wine.”

She smiles. “I’m sure, but I’m also sure that this will be better than anything you’ve tasted.”

“Hmmm,” I say. “We’ll see.”

Catherine just clings to my side, like some kind of decoration or ornament.

I don’t like that. I’m not giving up everything with the swarm for some piece of ass. She needs to be more than that, but this fucking job is making me treat her like even less than a piece of ass. And there’s more to it. It makes me feel weak. She’s this reminder attached to me that I’ve given in. That I’ve forsaken my own kind.

The woman takes us into the tasting room. She pours us generous-sized glasses.

Each glass of this shit costs a fortune. She doesn’t need to pour us full glasses to sample, but since she thinks I’m an aristocrat, she does.

I smell it. Damn. That is...something.

She grins at me. “Impressed?”

Aria and I would move wine sometimes. We’d never even dreamt of affording a bulk shipment of wine from Summer’s Breeze, but still, we’d moved good wine. I knew enough about wine to know if something is good or bad.

And this? This is beyond good. I’m almost afraid to take a sip. It might ruin all other wine for me, just like Catherine has ruined all other women.

Still, Dathros wouldn’t fear that.

I smile at Catherine and clink my glass with hers.

We drink together.

It’s bright and fruity. It dances on my tongue. The taste fills me, and the strength of the alcohol is there, but it’s tempered like a gentle breeze taming a summer sun.

I almost let my pirate mouth get the best of me and just say “fuck.”

“Impressive,” I say instead. “I’d very much like to meet Mi Kiorus. As you know, I’m procuring the best this system has to offer for a large shipment back to Epsilon Eridani. I think this wine will have to be on that ship.”

Gethros Mi Kiorus is the guy who owns the spear. I doubt he’d come out and meet every aristocrat who seemed interested in buying a case of wine, but an interstellar shipment is a big deal, and it would be insulting if he refused me.

She smiles wide. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

We are invited to a “ball” at Mi Kiorus’ estate.

I have to put on an even fancier robe, and I have to put stupid fucking gold things in my hair as well.

Catherine laughs at me.

“Wait until you see what you have to wear.”

She comes out of the bathroom, her face white.

“You’re messing with me, right?” she asks.

I shake my head, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

“My tits are hanging out!”

It’s a black dress, but it has no back, and also no front, really. There are straps, but they are mostly ornamental, and her entire back, stomach, and breasts are completely exposed.

“I’m not wearing this,” she says.

“It’s a ball, Catherine,” I say. “You think I want to have these frilly gold things in my hair?”

She scoffs at me, and her breasts bounce as she moves. I smile.

“Dathros,” she says, venom in her voice, “You can’t compare having some gold crap in your hair to walking around basically naked. Imagine if your cock was just hanging out of your robe.”

“That wouldn’t be appropriate for a ball,” I say.

At least not for a Cygnian. Wait until she sees the human males.

I try to keep a straight face, but I’m having too much fun.

I have to show her images and videos of aristocratic balls before she finally believes me.

“See,” I say. “If a woman has the smallest hint of Cygnian blood, which means that one person generations back gave in to temptation, then there will be markings on her breasts and back, but not her face. This dress is a declaration that you are absolutely pure.”

“And an invitation for everyone to stare at my tits.”

“Ah,” I say. “You underestimate