Enslave Me Sweetly (Alien Huntress #2)(32)
Author: Gena Showalter

With Luc clopping at my side, I followed the ambassador and strolled eagerly inside, my form-fitting calf-length skirt crinkling with my every movement. Cool air blasted me, shivering through my clothing and onto my too-warm skin. That brief stay in the sun had overheated me, I realized.

I blinked away the red-gold sunspots and studied my new, temporary home. Comfortable looking, yes. But…My hands curled into fists again. I wanted my apartment. As we sauntered down a long hallway, one of the first things I noticed were the animal heads that decorated some of the walls. Deer, coyote, and wild hog, all of which were endangered and illegal to possess or kill.

I’d expected something different for the elegant Claudia Chow. Yes, I’d known she hunted animals, which was now illegal without a government license, but I’d thought…I don’t know what I’d thought.

She glanced at me over her shoulder. “What do you think of my home?”

I decided to be truthful. Less complicated that way. “The animal heads give me the creeps.”

“Really?” She frowned, genuine surprise flicking through her eyes. “Almost all of your people seem to enjoy them.”

My people? Did she mean Raka or all other-worlders? Either way, it didn’t seem like something an Ambassador of Alien Goodwill should say.

We finally stepped inside the drawing room, a room boasting animal skulls and bird feathers. Interspersed throughout the carcasses were lace doilies and flower-filled vases. My God. This had to be hell.

Hiding a grimace, I waited until Claudia seated herself in a floral chair before I claimed the rosy pink settee across from her. Luc sat at my feet, still looking wary. Between Claudia and me was a small, rolling table piled high with cookies and lemonade.

Except for the dead animals, the scene reminded me of a period piece. An old movie, perhaps, with ladies and gentlemen and proper manners. I suspected Claudia cultivated the image purposefully. To relax her guests? To disarm them?

Ever the gracious hostess, she poured me a glass of tangy lemonade, and I tentatively sipped. I hated anything sour, and this proved to be completely devoid of the sweetness I preferred.

“Martha,” she said, “please bring Luc a bowl of water.” Orders given, Claudia offered me a cookie.

I readily accepted. It, at least, possessedsome sugar. If I could have only one food in the entire world, that would be it. Pure, granulated sugar. I nibbled on the edges of the cookie and sighed with satisfaction.

“I’m not sure what you’ve been told of your duties,” she said, “but all I’ll require of you is your presence at every political and social function I attend, to accompany me when other-worlders visit to tell me of their problems and concerns, and to interpret any calls I receive.”

That’s all, huh?

“My last interpreter spoke only six languages, so aliens often left my presence frustrated with their inability to communicate with me. Your father mentioned you speak twenty-seven languages.” There was a ring of disbelief in her tone.

“He didn’t exaggerate, I assure you.”

Surprise flittered over her refined features, as if she’d expected me to deny it. “How did you manage to learn so many?”

A female servant arrived with Luc’s water bowl. The girl was alien, a Brin Tio Chi, a race that was dark as mocha and moved with fluid grace, practically floating. She placed the bowl in front of Luc and drifted away like a dream, her white robe wisping at her ankles. The dog drank greedily.

“A tutor of mine once told me Rakas have an affinity for languages. That all of our kind seem to learn them as easily as human children learn the alphabet.”

“That’s wonderful.” Grinning, Claudia clasped her hands. “There’s a party we’ll be attending tonight, and I expect many different alien races to be there. Some of them haven’t yet mastered English, so you’ll have to translate for me.”

The party. I could hardly wait. “That will be my pleasure.”

She sighed. “Something you need to know about me is that I always mix business with pleasure. I expect many other-worlders to approach me tonight with problems they’ve been having. They know they can come to me anywhere, anytime.”

My head tilted to the side. “What kind of problems?”

“Discrimination, mostly. Humans often act superior to their alien counterparts—and jealous when someone they feel is un-deserving has money and power. That’s when I step in. I make sure alien needs are represented in the Senate.”

A pretty speech. Rehearsed? Or truthful?

“When Yson—he was my husband—was alive, we traveled the world and witnessed so many atrocities against aliens. We vowed to do what we could to help.” Her face gleamed with sadness. “Then the Zi Karas came over and brought that horrible plague that killed so many humans and animals. Yson was one of the first to die, leaving me to help on my own.”

“I’d think that would have made you hate all aliens.” I stated the words as an observation, an afterthought. Casual. But I watched her expression intently.

The fine lines around her eyes seemed to deepen. “For a while, yes, I did hate them. But Yson would not have wanted me to harbor such hatred. He would have wanted me to keep my vow. And so I have.” She waved a hand through the air. “Now enough sadness. Let’s talk about happy things.”

What a puzzle she was—a puzzle I planned to solve. Whether the pieces would fit together in an innocent or betraying manner, I didn’t know. I only knew I’d have to stay on my guard with her. Michael seemed to trust her (somewhat), but I couldn’t. Not yet.

We chatted for a few more minutes about the weather, about my food preferences and sleeping habits.

“Why don’t you go upstairs,” she said. “You can unpack or rest or whatever you need to do before the party.”

“Where’s the party located?” I asked, unable to keep anticipation from my tone. I already knew the answer.

“At Jonathan Parker’s estate. He’s wealthy and powerful and a good man to have on your side.” She paused, grinned. “He insisted, absolutely insisted, we attend.”

I returned her grin with one of my own. “I look forward to meeting him.” And I did. God, I did.

Chapter 13

Ispent the next hour searching my new bedroom for bugs and cameras.

A single dead animal head hung from my “yellow that blends well with my skin” walls. A deer. The rest of the decor was tasteful, if purely Texan. Cowbell chandelier, horseshoes on the walls, wooden bedposts that supported a wheelbarrow-shaped bed. Snakeskin baskets rested on the side tables.