Vera

“Listen carefully, girl. Today, a very important client is coming. You better serve him well, or I’ll strip the skin from your back, have the blue bitch heal you, and do it all over again,” my Master threatens.

I glance at Maya, the “blue bitch” in question, my only friend in this hellhole. Having a Marine healer as a friend in a Pyrese brothel where we’re both sex slaves is the only reason I’m still alive. She often heals me in secret when my clients get too rough. I suppose it could have been worse—if my Master hadn’t chosen that particular Grogk ship for a heist, I’d be long dead, digested, and fermenting some planet’s soil.

My Master throws his hands up in a hopeless gesture. “Are you even listening? Whores these days—dumber and dumber each year.”

“Yes, Master. I’ll ensure he’s sated beyond his expectations,” I reply, trying to sound obedient.

“Good. Now, put on a mask and make yourself pretty. And don’t forget the gloves,” he orders, then storms out, gesturing for Maya to follow. She squeezes my shoulder in passing, offering silent encouragement. I try to return the look, knowing she has her own client to deal with tonight.

This is my favorite part—being alone with my thoughts before the man or men I’m supposed to pleasure arrive. We rarely get any time to ourselves; we share a single bedroom between six of us, and it can get overwhelming.

I walk to the closet—the only time we’re allowed to wear the expensive lingerie. I pick out a soft pink bralette, matching gloves, a thong, and lace stockings connected with delicate buckles. From the drawer filled with masks, I choose a simple white one that covers the top half of my face. Facing the mirror, I adjust everything to perfection.

A deep sadness fills my heart. There’s no trace of the girl I used to be. In seven years, so much of my appearance has changed. My hair is longer, glossier. My lips and cheekbones more defined. And my body—once slender, now filled out with curves that make men grovel at my feet. A blessing, considering the cruel joke fate played on me: the ability to make people climax with a thought, sustaining my life force by feeding off their pleasure.

I chuckle darkly at the irony. My life—a cosmic joke. But there’s no time to dwell. I jump onto the bed, getting comfortable. My client usually takes ten to fifteen minutes to show up.

A knock on the door. Strange—they usually just barge right in.

“It’s open,” I say in a sing-song voice. Most men like it when you present yourself as some pure, innocent virgin. Downright delusional of them to come to a whorehouse with that expectation, but alas.

The door swings open, and for a moment, time stops. I forget how to breathe, my mind empty of all thoughts except one.

It’s him.

His appearance has changed a lot since I last saw him, but it’s undeniably him. Dressed in all black, from neck to toe, the gangly boy whose bones were too big for his skin is gone. In his place stands a man of pure lethal muscle. I expected as much—last I heard, he was climbing his way up the military ladder, quickly becoming the commander. Or, as most call him, the Commander of Death.

He grew his hair out a little, resulting in a permanently tousled, dark, wavy mess. A nasty scar runs from his hairline across his left eye to the corner of his lip. The scar healed horribly, deep enough to have severed muscle. It gives me dark satisfaction knowing he went through that amount of pain.

He clears his throat, and my eyes snap to his. His eyes—the only thing that hasn’t changed. Pale grey, wide, with slight creases at the corners. He forces a smile, the scar tugging one side of his face into a crooked grimace.

“Yes, I know I’m breathtakingly handsome, but please try to take a breath,” he jokes. He fucking jokes. He’s known for years that I’ve been here, and only now does he come, cracking jokes.

Years ago, I asked a client of mine, who was in the same legion as him, to deliver a letter. He even did me the courtesy of writing back. I’ll never forget the words: Finally where you belong. Always, Niaka.

I swallow my anger. He’s here to taunt me, and getting my back repeatedly flayed for him isn’t worth it. He’d probably enjoy it.

I bow my head slightly, lowering my gaze. “I apologize, Commander. Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll happily do it.”

He strides over, exuding confidence, and gently takes my chin in his gloved hand, forcing me to look up at him. “Three rules. Call me Niaka, look me in the eyes, and under no circumstances touch my bare skin. If you touch my bare skin, you’ll die in seconds. It’s my divine curse. Understood?”

His touch makes my skin crawl. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Why come here, to rub in my face how far I’ve sunk? “Of course, Niaka. How may I pleasure you this evening?” I ask, venom dripping from every word.

He narrows his eyes, releases my chin, and sits on the one-seater across from the bed. Clearing his throat again, some of his earlier confidence ebbs away. He scratches the back of his head, looking sheepishly at me from beneath his lashes.

“You see…” He looks me up and down, deliberating. “...little rose.” Using my real name or a nickname—that’s what he was deliberating on, and he chose little rose. I despise him.

He continues, “I don’t really have experience with this whole… well, experience. So why don’t you take the lead, yeah?”

Oh, Divine. I don’t know if I can do this. Just thinking about him touching me makes me want to rip my skin off, even if he is gloved. But if I don’t do this, my skin will definitely be ripped off by a whip.

I go over to the wall and input the sequence for music. A dark, sensual melody drifts through the room. I sway my hips as I walk back over to him, dancing seductively. I can see the moment lust takes root in his eyes. He hooks his fingers into the straps connecting my thong to my stockings and pulls me onto his lap. I place both hands on his chest to catch myself. I can feel the outline of him through the rough material of his pants.

I didn’t expect his sexual energy to smell so fucking good. I take a deep breath—it’s dark and spicy with a hint of vanilla. I just know if I started feeding off him, I wouldn’t be able to stop until he’s drained. Before I can stop myself, I start grinding on him slowly.

“Fuuuck,” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice like silk being torn apart. He grips my upper thighs with both hands. The contact snaps me back to reality.

I look at his face, enthralled with wanting, needing release. And all the horrible things he said to me come rushing back. The letter he wrote, burned into my brain. I fucking refuse—I’ll give him nothing.

I grab his chin as he did mine earlier. “That’s all you’ll ever get from me. I will never make you cum.”

He grabs my wrist and yanks it away from his face. The hot lust in his eyes turns to cold, calculating anger. “Mmm, seems like the little rose doesn’t like me very much. My heart is breaking,” he says with a cold, crooked smile.

He lifts me off him and plops me on the one-seater where he sat moments ago. “Tell me, little rose, what is so thoroughly repulsive about me that you shiver in disgust when I touch you?” he asks, his voice sharp.

Is he for real? “How do you even need to ask that question? You, of all people?” I snarl.

Comprehension lights up his face. “Ah, I see. Forgive me—I didn’t think whores were so picky about who they provide… services to. I’ll be sure to recommend you only to my most handsome acquaintances.”

“I’d rather fuck a horde of deformed Gorgks than you or any of your acquaintances.”

He chuckles and retorts, “I’ll be sure to pass on the message if I ever see one.”

I stand up and pull my hand back to slap him across the face. He catches my wrist easily and whispers, “Be careful, little rose. One touch of skin, and you’ll shrivel up—your petals won’t be as pretty.”

I yank my hand back. “Get out! I don’t care if my Master flays my back a million times. I’ll gladly take each lash, knowing I’ll never have to see your face again.”

At the word Master, pure delight crosses his features. Did I mean nothing to him?

“Well then, I’ll bid you adieu since you’re so adamant to get rid of me,” he says with a gleeful smile, turning and walking out the door. Just like that.

II yank my hand back and shout, “Get out! I don't care if my Master flays my back a million times. I will gladly take each lash knowing I’ll never have to see your face again.” At the word "Master," pure delight crosses his features. Did I mean nothing to him? “Well then, I will bid you adieu since you are so adamant to get rid of me,” he says with a gleeful smile, turns around, and walks out of the door. Just like that.

I can’t believe he was ever my best friend. Was I blind, deaf, and stupid? I flip off the door because that’ll show him. Great Divine, now I have my Master to deal with. Maya will be so upset with me. I can already imagine her big star-riddle eyes looking at me with pity and sorrow. Damn, why did it have to be him? I throw myself on the bed and scream into the pillow. I don't know how many minutes pass, but the inevitable always comes no matter how badly you want it not to.

The communication system blinks to life, and my Master's voice fills the room. Two simple words, “Office, now.” My stomach sinks. I am not ready for the consequences of my actions, but I know stalling will only worsen my punishment. The walk to his office usually takes about five minutes, but today it felt like an hour. His office door is open, and I hear him talking to someone. This can't be good.