Heir Of Violence (#1 Betrayed Destinies) - ONC2024

Chapter 3 - Feeling Blue

No sooner had Caeryssa unpacked for her two-week stay and showered the travel off her skin than her wrist pinged with her spa appointment reminder. So much for getting a nap.

She changed into a silver wrap dress, swishing her hips to feel the light fabric float around her thighs. With almost all her time spent on ships or tromping through unexplored vegetation, she rarely had the opportunity to don a dress. Bare legs were not practical exploration wear, and for respectable scientists, dresses were fashion disasters in zero gravity. Her mother had gifted her this luxury Caeryssa's last visit home, along with the spike-heeled silver shoes she slid her feet into.

With a little bounce on her toes, she turned her back on the lack of view that had deepened her annoyance when she'd arrived in her room. The damned window faced the other tower instead of the forest or sea vista she'd been promised. Thorns, she wouldn't let that sharding pretty boy spoil her vacation, her one shot at freedom in ages.

She left her room and hit the button to call the gravlift, trying not to shiver at the memory of the ride up. He'd been nearly overwhelming in that small space, standing close enough that his body heat was a line of fire behind her. Tempting. So very tempting to step back into him. She'd been unable to breathe without tasting his warm amber musk—a scent that seemed to burrow into her hindbrain. In that brief trip, she'd expended every fraction of her willpower to keep from revealing her disturbing awareness. Empty of his commanding presence and alluring fragrance, the lift felt expansive.

If that small exposure was anything to judge by, she had to avoid him. The last thing she needed was a risky fling, even if she hadn't had sex in... roots, at least six cycles. He was probably a selfish lover, anyway, too full of himself to care about a partner's needs.

"Definitely. Bad, bad idea," she muttered as she pushed through the spa's opaque doors and almost walked into a broad muscular back. His back. Because, of course it was. Choking down her curse, she swerved and managed to avoid the crash. His fault for standing in the doorway, though. Maybe if he wasn't the size of a blooming tree trunk, she'd not have had to dodge him. Why, in all the twisty branches, was he everywhere she went?

Still.

"Sorry. Excuse me," she murmured, clamping down on her annoyance and sense of smell, as she passed him and continued to the receptionist. No way did she need that delicious scent waking her sleeping libido. Quietly, she gave the woman her name and waited, breathing through her mouth, while the receptionist retrieved her appointment.

And felt his gaze roaming over her, especially her ass. Her legs flexed, and she fought the urge to fidget. She would not turn to look at him. Nope. Not going to happen. Those golden eyes were far too interesting and dangerous with everything Sigma Draconis entailed.

"Please... have a seat. We'll—uh—we'll call you as—as soon as your technician is ready," the receptionist said, sending flirtatious glances behind Caeryssa. 

Why hadn't Caeryssa asked his name? At least then, she'd be able to ping his data. Not that she was interested.

Determined to ignore him, she sat in a row of navy chairs on the far silver and white swirl-patterned wall and picked up a glossy magazine from the ice-blue glass table. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him flip through a menu of spa options, then stroll over to the receptionist and make his selections.

The woman tittered and batted her eyes, but while he flashed a smile, he didn't seem to do anything more before he joined Caeryssa, sprawling in the chair next to her and sending her pulse skyrocketing.

"We meet again, Doctor Cadwell." His smooth voice shivered down her spine like a physical stroke.

Why? Why did he have to take the seat immediately beside her? With his whole manspreading thing going on, she was trapped, trying to avoid touching him. The thinnest margin of air separated his thick, muscular leather-clad thigh and her mostly bare leg, and his body heat radiated into the intervening space like a fire warming her flesh.