Domination Games © 2018 Francesca Baez

www.francescabaez.com

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

The Author of this Book has been granted permission by Anna Zaires and Dima Zales to use the copyrighted characters and the world of The Krinar Chronicles created by Anna Zaires and Dima Zales in this Book; all copyright protection to the characters and the worlds of Anna Zaires and Dima Zales are retained by Anna Zaires and Dima Zales.

I hate this damn cold.

After living in Manhattan for so long, I should be used to it, but it still gets to me. Especially after a long, exhausting day at work, the harsh chill only adds insult to injury.

Kinda wanna die, I text my best friend Noelle as I dodge an icy patch on the sidewalk. Is it summer yet?

Let’s call in sick and go to Miami tomorrow, Noelle texts back immediately, along with a sunglasses emoji.

I’m grinning as I push the door to the liquor store open with my shoulder, the bell announcing my arrival cheerily.

“What’s up, Ari,” the cashier says from behind the counter, with a friendly nod.

“Hey Dante,” I smile back. On any other day I’d stop to chat, but today I need a drink, and I need it now.

I head for the wine aisle first, unbuttoning my coat as I walk. The shelves are still decorated with drooping tinsel and faded advertisements for holiday sales—Dante really needs to clean this place up. When I pause at the red, the man at the other end of the aisle catches my eye. He’s tall, with dark coloring and sharp features, but it’s the way he turns to me that I immediately recognize as otherworldly—a predatory, animalistic movement that is just slightly too smooth to be human. Is he a Krinar? They’ve been living among us since I was a teenager, and I’m not as intimidated by their presence as the older generations are. Still, it’s unusual to be this close to one, especially in such a mundanely human setting, and I can’t tell if the goosebumps on my skin are from fear or exhilaration. Our gaze meets for a moment, his incandescent eyes holding mine for a beat too long. Then the blonde he’s with says something, and he turns back to her.

Shaking off the rich feeling of his gaze on my skin, I decide I want something stronger than merlot tonight, and head toward the whiskey. A few minutes later, the man turns the corner, pausing by the bourbon. He doesn’t look at me, but I can feel the electricity filling the few feet between us, and I wonder if he can too. Distracted, I reach for a bottle of Jack, but the glass immediately slips out of my nervous grasp. Before I can even register the disastrous trajectory of the bottle toward the floor, the man has closed the distance between us. He catches the bottle just in time, frozen mid-crouch on the floor beside me. We stay like that for a moment, me looking down at him, him looking up at me. Up close, I can see that his eyes are a vibrant shade of amber, nearly yellow. There’s no doubt about it now, this man is a Krinar. As he rises to his full height, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I’m tall, but he still towers over me.

“I believe this is yours,” he says, handing the Jack back to me. His voice is low and raspy, vibrating through me as I accept the bottle.

“Thanks,” I say, almost mumbling. Our fingers don’t brush during the exchange, and it’s not until his hands gracefully fall back at his sides that I realize I wanted them to. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I only saved your whiskey,” he says with a grin that I hope is flirtatious, cocking his head to the side.

“And booze is my life,” I respond, hugging the bottle nervously. I laugh to make sure he knows I’m joking and not actually an alcoholic, and he laughs along. My god, I can feel that laughter all through my body, deep and rich and melodious. I know I’m supposed to be afraid, any reasonable human should be afraid, but all I feel is a thrill of excitement, buzzing through me, down to my very core.

“Verit?” The blonde appears at the end of the aisle, holding a bottle of cab.

The K—Verit—gives me one last nod before turning and walking back to her. I watch him leave unabashedly, drinking in the flawless way his body moves. Once they’re gone, I pay for my whiskey and walk home, certain that I’ll never see my Krinar ever again.

“Holy fuck, Noelle, you’ll never believe what just happened to me.”

I call Noelle as soon as I get home, still unwrapping my scarf with one hand as I hold her face on the screen in the other. I can see that she’s eating sushi in bed, her usual weeknight routine. Despite her job writing food reviews for some of the most notorious restaurants in the city, she insists that the cheap spicy mushroom rolls from the bodega on her block are the best in town.

“Did that douche from the coffee shop hit on you again?” Noelle asks through a mouthful of rice and mushroom. She waves her chopsticks in the air for effect as she continues, “Because that stopped being newsworthy like three weeks ago.”

I prop my phone up on the counter as I open the Jack and pour myself a whiskey, neat.

“He did, but that’s not what I meant,” I say, taking a sip and making my way to the living room, where I flop down onto the sofa in a rather unladylike fashion. “Guess.”

“I’m not going to guess,” Noelle says. We’ve been friends for long enough that she doesn’t bother hiding her annoyance. “You know I hate that shit. Just tell me.”

“Okay, okay,” I say, throwing my hands up in defeat. “I just saw a K at the liquor store.”

Noelle jerks upright, sushi tilting dangerously, as I slink further into my slouch.

“At Dante’s?” she asks, chopsticks frozen beside her face.

“Yeah,” I say. “He was just getting wine with some chick. It was weird.”

“That’s so… domestic,” Noelle says, setting her dinner on the nightstand and falling back onto her bed.

“And the weirdest part was,” I punctuate the pause with another sip of whiskey, relishing how much Noelle hates the spectacle of it all. “I think we had a moment.”

“A moment? What does that even mean?”

I pause again, this time unintentionally. I don’t know how to explain the way time seemed to freeze when he looked at me, the way my skin burned in his presence, the way his lush laugh made my insides turn upside-down.

“You know,” I offer lamely after a second, “A moment.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, unconvinced, returning to her sushi. “So, are you officially into Ks now? Like, a xeno?”

Last year, we went to an x-club for a friend’s birthday and I hooked up with a K. I was the only one who did, the rest of my friends backed out at the last minute. It wasn’t a big deal to me, but Noelle can’t let it go.

“No,” I say shortly. “Just a weird, random thing. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

“That’s probably for the best,” she says in her holier-than-thou voice.

She starts talking about something dumb her boyfriend said, and I tune out, replaying the incident in my head. I know that realistically, odds are I won’t ever see Verit again. Still, the desire gnaws in my belly like a hunger, keeping me up late into the night.

I try to put him out of my mind, I really do. I bury myself in my work all week, volunteering for every extra shift, showing up early and staying late. That weekend, I go out with Noelle and the girls, even take someone home. But as we make out on my couch, all I can think of is the intoxicating creature I’ve dangerously begun to think of as “my K,” and I wind up sending the poor guy home.

“We should go to the x-club again,” I tell Noelle one day as we walk to work, lattes clutched in frozen hands. I try to sound nonchalant, but she sees right through me.

“You just want to find your alien,” she says, with a gentle elbow to my side to soften the edge in her words.

“Nooooooo,” I lie halfheartedly, stretching the word out and dragging my feet like a kid. “I mean, yeah, sure, that wouldn’t be the worst thing ever, but either way it would just be fun.”

“Ari, come on, you know better than that,” she says. “It’s not worth it.”

While the Ks aren’t exactly welcomed with open arms by humanity yet, for the most part we’ve gotten used to co-existing with them by now. Still, everyone knows the dangers of becoming seriously entangled with a K, no matter how enticing those intimate liaisons may be. Noelle is especially cautious, not only because a coworker of hers at the Herald ran off with a K a few years ago, but because she genuinely doesn’t get the appeal. She’s into shy, dorky dudes, cozy date nights, and making love. And hey, I don’t judge her for that, to each their own. But just the thought of a deliciously dominant K shoving me against a wall and railing me, and I can feel my panties dampening.

“You’re right,” I say. “It’s not worth it.”

It’s probably for the best if I go to the x-club alone, anyway. If I find my K, I’d feel like a bitch for ditching Noelle for him—and I definitely would. And if I don’t find him, it’s better if no one else is present to witness my humiliation.

The x-club is hot and sweaty, even before I start dancing. The music throbs through me, and the low, flashing lights make my pulse speed. I scan the room for my K, trying to look casual. A few men turn to look at me, their bright eyes tracing the shape of my body in this tight sapphire-blue dress, but none of them are Verit. I quash my disappointment and grab a drink, joining the knot of bodies on the dance floor.

I’m half a drink in when I see him. I feel his presence first, a tickle on the back of my neck making me turn around. And there he is, standing in the shadowed entrance, a single, pulsating purple light illuminating his face along to the beat of the music. I contemplate playing it cool, but then he’s already walking towards me, eyes locked on mine, and my feet move to meet him halfway without prompting.

“It’s you,” I say, dumbly. He’s so close to me, I could touch him. The lights flicker over us, and I don’t feel like I’m in my body anymore. I feel like I’m a world away from here, just me and my K. “Verit.”

“It’s me,” he says, and then he’s pressed against me. The music moves my body for me. This place is an aphrodisiac, the swarm of bodies making my adrenaline spike. His hands are on me, and I want him, I want him bad. I grind my ass against him, and I hear him suck in his breath.

“You’re looking for trouble,” he murmurs, breath hot in my ear. His fingers spread wide over my hips, pulling me impossibly close.

“I am,” I say, fighting to keep my voice even. I’m burning up, the heat of his body pressing against me overwhelming. Still, I push harder. “And if I don’t find any, I’ll have to make some.”

His lips are on my neck, his tongue tracing the curve of my throat. I moan his name, but the sound is swallowed by the chaotic thrum of the club. Everyone here is touching, a blur of fast hands and hot skin. I turn, meeting Verit’s mouth, my hands in his hair, running down his back, grabbing at the hem of his shirt. I’ve never felt greedier, but Verit pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, when he takes his hands off me and steps back. I’m embarrassed by the immediate rejection, face hot under the lights.

“Nothing,” he says, reaching out and brushing an unruly strand of hair out of my face. “Just… not like this.”

With a hand on the small of my back, he steers me through the crowd and out of the club. Outside, the air is bitingly cold, and the sudden silence is deafening. Too late, I realize I left my coat inside, and I tell Verit that.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, pulling me close to his side. His intention is likely to share his body heat, but the proximity to the beautiful K immediately causes my own body to overheat in excitement. “I’ll buy you another.”

He takes us to a restaurant a couple blocks away, an expensive French place I recognize from one of Noelle’s blogs. It’s late, and the restaurant looks very closed, but Verit knocks on the door anyway. A man appears behind the tinted glass doors, and grins when he sees my companion.

“Mr. Verit,” he says in a booming voice as he lets us in. I’ve never heard of anyone calling a Krinar “Mr.” before. It sounds odd, and I grin at it.

“Marc,” Verit replies in the same jovial tone, slapping the man’s hand into a distinctly human way. “Mind if we come in for a few drinks?”

“Of course,” Marc says, leading us into the restaurant. “We’re just cleaning up, don’t mind us.”

I follow Verit to the deserted bar, smiling at the girl wiping down tables. I perch on a bar stool, feeling slightly out of place in the elegant restaurant, despite the absence of patrons. I’m dressed for a club, not for high class. I tug at my short skirt nervously as Verit gracefully moves behind the bar, pouring two glasses of Macallan. When I left my apartment just hours ago, I felt in control, I felt badass. I thought I could play a K and walk away unscathed. Now, as he clinks his tumbler against mine with a calculated smile, I feel dangerously close to losing myself completely.

“Come here often?” I ask teasingly, forcing a facade of confidence. Just because I know I’ve lost the upper hand—if I even had it to start with—doesn’t mean he has to know. He chuckles at that, but doesn’t respond. Instead he just stares me down, leaning over the bar until he’s close enough to touch. A chill runs down my spine, and I keep talking to mask my nerves. “But seriously, what are we doing here? Why did we leave the x-club? I thought we were having fun.”

Still, the enigmatic K remains silent, holding my gaze. I cave and look down at my drink, but he reaches out and lifts my chin with a finger, forcing me to meet his eyes again.

“You’re not a shot of cheap tequila. You’re not a quick fuck in a crowded club. You’re expensive whiskey, meant to be sipped slowly,” here he swirls his drink, ice clinking softly, and I find it hard to catch my breath. It’s already the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, and then he adds, “I’m going to take my time with you, Ari.”

I feel like my panties might combust on the spot, but then Marc materializes with a plate of crostini. I recognize the variety from one of Noelle’s articles, and know it’s an expensive platter.

“On the house, of course,” he says with a smile, unaware that he just ruined a perfect moment.

“Thanks, man,” Verit says, and Marc disappears back into the kitchen.

“How do you know him, anyway?” I ask, taking a crunchy bite. “They don’t let just anybody into fancy restaurants in the middle of the night and feed them snacks.”

“They let me in,” Verit says pointedly. “But I’m not here to talk about that. Tell me about you.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Ugh, I hate when people say that. It’s so vague! Ask me something specific. Like, how long have you been in New York? Or in your case, on Earth?”

“Fair point,” Verit says with a sideways smile. “And, I’ve been on Earth since a couple months after our first arrival, but I’ve only recently begun spending time in New York. How about you?”

“Well, I arrived on Earth twenty-six years ago,” I say cheekily, and I am rewarded with a chuckle. I can feel myself regaining my confidence. “I went to college here in the city and have lived here ever since.”

Verit pops a crostini into his mouth. “Okay, next specific question. What do you do for a living, Ariana?”

“I’m a trainer at a gym downtown. Kickboxing, women’s self defense, that kind of stuff.” I reach across the bar and pour myself another drink from the most expensive looking bottle. Hey, why not make the most of a rare opportunity? “Oh, and I go by Ari. How did you know my name? I don’t think I’ve mentioned it.”

“If I want to know something, I know it,” he says, pushing his glass towards me. I pour him a drink with tremulous fingers. “But we can pretend. Where did you go to college?”

We play twenty questions, until twenty questions turns to fifty questions, and fifty questions turns into a conversation. Finally, long after we’ve overstayed our welcome, we exit Marc’s and wander the streets. It’s pretty late, especially for a weeknight, but the city still hums. Eventually, our seemingly aimless walk leads to my apartment.

“Want to come up for a drink?” I ask. I lean into the cliche nature of the question, tilting my head coquettishly and raising an eyebrow.

Verit glances up at the building, then back at me. He reaches out and takes my hand gently. “I think we’ve both had enough to drink tonight.”

“Really? Because I have some really expensive whiskey upstairs,” I say, pulling him close. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him deeply, letting my teeth catch his lip as I pull away. “The kind that’s meant to be sipped slowly.”

Verit smiles, the streetlights catching the glint of sharp teeth. “You make a compelling argument, Ari.”

I grin back, and lead him up the stairs.

I’ve had sex with a K before, but this is different. Verit was right: he makes my x-club hookup seem like a cheap shot of tequila. This? This is everything.

He starts kissing me as soon as we enter my apartment. I’m sandwiched between him and the door, moaning into his mouth, grabbing deliriously at his delectable body. The way this creature kisses is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve heard rumors that a K can make you orgasm with nothing but a kiss, and in this moment I believe it. Verit lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands grip my thighs so tightly I know I’ll have bruises in the morning. He carries me to the kitchen counter, where we loudly knock over something I can’t bring myself to care about. He’s pushing up my skirt, and I’m fumbling with his zipper, and we’re both tearing off my panties. Verit pulls me to the edge of the counter, and then he’s on his knees. If his tongue was an artist in my mouth, it’s fucking Van Gogh between my legs. In minutes I’m screaming, a toe-curling, white-knuckle orgasm ripping through me without warning.

I’m jelly in his arms as my K carries me to bed. He tosses me down without finesse and yanks me toward him, the roughness bringing me back to the moment. I sit up, grab the back of his head and pull him into a violent kiss. I work my way down his body, nibbling at his ear, licking his throat. He tears his shirt off, buttons popping and rattling across the floor. I trace his flawless torso with my tongue, moaning against his abs. His cock is already rock hard, deliciously enormous in my hands. I take him into my mouth, relishing the way he groans my name.

After a few minutes he pulls away, pushing me back onto the bed.

“It’s time,” he says, kneeling over me. He is astonishing, completely naked like this, glowing in the dim lightning.

“Wait, a condom,” I say out of habit, glancing at my bedside table.

“You know that’s not necessary,” Verit says with a chuckle, and then he’s kissing me again.

I cry out as he enters me, an inscrutable cocktail of pain and pleasure washing through my body. And then, when the sensations already threaten to overwhelm me, I feel his sharp teeth against my throat, and I’m violently catapulted into a high like no other. Total bliss floods over me, and we remain together in this ecstasy for what feels like an eternity.

I don’t remember the end of the night. When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a moment to put the pieces together. I’m alone in my bed, sheets hopelessly knotted around me. My aching body should protest as I get up, if even half my memories of the night are accurate, but I feel fine. My apartment is completely empty, which stings more than I’d care to admit. Have I lost my K again, just after finding him?

I call Noelle after a quick shower. We’ve been friends long enough that I know she’ll forgive my lie, after a brief reproach. She picks up after a couple rings, her half made-up face too close on the screen.

“Don’t be mad,” I say before she can speak. “I went to the x-club after all.”

“Oh my god, Ari, I—“ she begins in an annoyed tone, and I cut her off with a quick zipper motion across my lips. My story is way more exciting than her lecture.

“I fucked my K last night,” I tell her, grinning. “Or rather, he fucked the life out of me.”

“Oh my god, Ari!” Noelle repeats, in a completely different tone. This one is scandalized, impressed, and scolding all at once. “Tell me everything.”

So I do, while she finishes getting ready and I eat a bowl of granola and fruit, and then as we both take our respective subways she tells me about this new show we should watch, and we’ve already planned our next GNO by the time our paths cross. It’s the morning routine we’ve been perfecting for years, ever since a failed attempt to room together right out of college. We love each other, but I think she’s a nightmarish slob, and she thinks I’m a high-strung control freak.

“Are you going to see him again?” Noelle asks with a nudge and a wink as we wait for the WALK sign to light up.

“Probably not,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “He totally ghosted, so. I guess that was that.”

“Even K men can be dicks. Forget that douche,” she says, adjusting her purse straps.

So, I once again find myself trying to forget the K that haunts my every thought. If the process was torturous before, now that I’ve known absolute bliss at his hands, it’s pure hell.

Three days later, Noelle and I are eating takeout on my couch and watching reruns of our favorite pre-Invasion trashy reality shows when there’s a knock at the door.

“Who is that?” Noelle asks, eyes still glued to the screen.

“No idea,” I reply, stabbing my chopsticks into the box of veggie fried rice I’ve been working on and setting it on the coffee table.

I don’t see anyone through the peephole. When I open the door, the hallway is empty, but there’s a flat black box on my doormat. The sight of me carrying the large box inside is enough to pique Noelle’s interest. I set the box down on the kitchen table, and she runs her fingers over subtle, embossed letters I hadn’t noticed yet.

Alexander McQueen.

“Holy fuck,” Noelle says reverently. “Ari, since when you can afford this shit?”

“I can’t,” I say, just as confused as she is.

I open the box as cautiously as our desperate curiosity allows, and pull out the coat inside, holding it up so we can both see. The silky black cloth is decadent to the touch, with a colorful beaded design spreading across the shoulders and twining down the sleeves. It’s not the kind of thing I would ever choose for myself, but I love it, and I can tell without even trying it on that it will fit me perfectly, as if it was specifically tailored to my measurements.

“Oh shit,” I whisper, suddenly remembering Verit’s promise to buy me a new coat after I’d left my old one behind at the x-club.

I hand the garment over to Noelle, who takes it with greedy hands, and check the box while she drools over the extravagance of it all. Tangled in the tissue paper at the bottom of the empty box is a note, with nothing but a phone number written on it, signed V. While Noelle isn’t watching, I add the contact to my phone and save it. Too late, I realize his name autocorrected to Veritas, but I don’t bother changing it.

I already know that no matter how hard I fight it, he’s going to become my truth.

I call to thank Verit later that night, the bottle of wine I split with Noelle at dinner buzzing through me.

“Ariana,” he says without preamble, that deep rasp dripping through the speakers.

“Thank you for the coat,” I say. “It was very generous. Like, probably more generous than I can even imagine.”

“It’s nothing,” he says, and it’s hard to tell over the phone if he’s purposefully being arrogant. “It’s my fault you lost the other one at the club, this was the least I could do.”

“You left the other day without saying goodbye,” I say after a moment of silence, trying not to sound clingy.

“I had a meeting,” he says, a gentle smirk in his words. “I’m a busy man.”

“Are you busy now?” I ask, and I can hear the whiskey roughness of desire in my voice now, too.

There’s a tiny pause, where I wonder if maybe I misread our situation. But then he’s back, and if he recognizes the new space I’ve pushed us into, he doesn’t acknowledge it yet.

“Not particularly,” he says. “Just reading some reports.”

“Mkay,” I continue, nonchalant. “Because I’m lying naked in bed right now, thinking about how much fun it would be if you were here, too.”

The first part is not factually accurate yet, but it will be if the next few minutes play out the way I’d like them to.

“Oh really?” he asks, and now that dirty smirk is soundlessly deafening.

“Mhmm,” I say, leaning back on the couch, tracing a line back and forth from my belly button to my sternum, my touch feather-light through my threadbare t-shirt. “I was thinking about your tongue on my clit, and your fingers inside me.”

“What else were you thinking?” he says, but his voice is still too teasing, too easy. I sit back up, and turn the sex in my voice up another notch or two.

“I was thinking about how good your big cock felt inside me,” I say. “And how wet it makes me just thinking about you.”

“Tell me more,” Verit says after a beat. His tone is still casual, but I swear his voice is just the tiniest bit hoarser. I push harder, speaking lower, slower.

“If you were here, I’d want you to bend me over and push into me from behind. You do it slowly, torturously, because you know I want it so bad. You’re so big, and my pussy is so tight, I cry out, but I love it and you know it. You’re thrusting into me, gripping my hips so hard, your nails are digging into my skin. You grab my hair and pull, hard, and you tell me that I’m a dirty girl. Oh yeah, I’m your dirty, dirty slut. You’re inside me, deeper, faster, rougher, but still I want more. Please, Verit… give me more.”

My free hand has snuck deep into my flannel boxers by now. Over the phone, I can hear Verit’s rapid breathing, and I picture his hand fisted around his thick cock.

“Don’t leave me hanging now,” he says when I pause, in a deliciously husky melody.

“You reach down and start touching my clit, slowly at first and then faster, faster, and oh my god, you’re so good, I can’t take it. And just as I am about to come, you bite me.”

I hesitate for a beat, teetering on the edge of real life bliss.

Then Verit says, “You taste so good, baby,” and I’m flying apart.

“I want you to come inside me,” I whisper hoarsely, a hitch in my voice. On the other end of the line, I’m rewarded with a moan.

“I’m coming, Ariana,” he rasps, and the sound of my name on his tongue is enough to push me over the edge again.

For a few moments, the only sound on the line is both of us breathing heavily.

“You’re right, that does sound fun,” Verit says finally, and we laugh together.

“I’m going to bed now,” I say abruptly, because honestly I’m not sure how to follow up a casual phone-sex romp with an alien I barely know. Small talk? I don’t think so. “I have work in the morning. I’m a busy woman, you know.”

Verit chuckles at that. “Well, good night, Ariana.”

“Good night, Verit,” I say. I hang up and lie on the couch for another twenty minutes, just staring at the ceiling and wondering what I’m getting myself into.

The next morning there’s a knock on my door just as I’m turning on the coffee maker. Through the peephole I see Verit, and my heart skips a beat. What the hell? I shake my hair out, hope for the best, and open the door.

“Good morning,” he says, looking perfect as usual. “Breakfast?”

He pulls a paper sack of bagels out from behind his back, and I grin. I let him in and pour us both coffee. We sit together awkwardly at my kitchen table—well, I’m not quite sure the Krinar are capable of that feeling, but I’m awkward enough for the both of us.

“Um, I’m sorry if last night was weird,” I say into the silence. “I’d had a little wine—”

“No need to apologize,” he says, waving his hand as if to thoroughly brush the sentiment away. Then he fixes his gaze on me and I’m frozen by his stare again, paralyzed by the way his long black lashes blink slowly over honey-ember eyes. “Did you mean it, though?”

I stumble, lost in the moment. “Did I mean what?”

In one swift motion, he’s risen from his seat and pulled me up too, flipped me over, and pinned me face-down across the table with one arm. My heart beats fast, and I barely register the mug of coffee that’s toppled over and is spilling slowly onto the tile floor. I feel Verit’s groin pressed against my ass, and through my yoga pants I can feel his stiffening cock as distinctly as if I were naked.

“Did you mean it?” he repeats. One hand keeps holding me down, the other slips into my pants and down into my panties. “Did you mean it when you said just the thought of me gets you wet?”

I don’t have to say anything, because he can feel my answer. His fingers curl into me, and I gasp softly.

“Did you mean it, Ariana?” he asks again. His fingers pump inside me, his cock rubs against me, and I have to grab the edge of the table for support as my legs begin turning to jelly. “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” I say through ragged breaths. “I meant it. I meant every word.”

I grind my ass back against him, and he inhales sharply. He adds another finger, but it’s still not enough.

“Do it,” I whisper hoarsely. “Just do it.”

And he does, holding me down tightly against the table as he pulls my pants down, unbuttons his own, and then shoves into me, hard and fast. I cry out in surprise, not having expected his full length and girth all at once.

“Oh my—”

I’m interrupted by fingers in my mouth, and I’m tasting myself as he slams into me again and again. The second coffee mug rolls off the table, shattering on the floor, but I barely notice. I’m overcome with sensation, with Verit all over me, all in me, all of me. He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and moves them to my clit, initiating slow ministrations that juxtapose harshly with the relentless fucking.

“Verit—”

My moan is again interrupted, this time by a fist in my hair pulling back, hard. I gasp, grabbing the table harder to keep from melting off completely.

“Are you a dirty girl, Ariana?” Verit asks solemnly, slowing his pace down torturously. “Are you my dirty, dirty slut?”

“I am!” I cry out loudly, not caring if the neighbors hear. “I’m your dirty girl, Verit, make me come, oh god, please make me come…”

With fast fingers, Verit has me somersaulting over the edge, and as I’m still gasping for breath, he pulls out and comes all over my back.

“Shit, now I have to shower again before work,” I groan before I can help myself.

“I thought you said you were a dirty girl,” Verit teases, with a playful slap to the ass. “Besides, you don’t really have to be at work til ten.”

That’s true, the first class I teach is at ten, although I usually show up early to catch a yoga session. Still, I’m slightly unsettled that the K knows my schedule already.

“Here on Earth we call this kind of behavior ‘stalking,’” I say, with as much authority as I can muster with cum dripping down my back. “You can’t just do anything you want, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure I can,” Verit says unapologetically. “Now go take that shower. I’ll clean up here.”

When I reemerge from my second shower of the morning, the coffee mess and broken mug have been taken care of, and Verit has vanished again.

I make it to work just in time for my first class, a beginner’s kickboxing session. Most would assume that a beginner’s course would be easier on the instructor, but I don’t find that to be completely accurate. While the moves are easier for me, the students still have no idea what they’re doing, which requires a lot more hands-on focus from me. Still, I really enjoy my beginners. I like being the person who shows them how fun and rewarding a new activity can be, taking them from amateur hobbyists to potential experts.

Unfortunately, today my body is agonizingly sore after this morning’s wild sex sesh, to the point where I have difficulty with even the basic warmup I’ve prepared.

“Fun night, huh?” a student asks, eyebrows raised and voice lowered, as I wince while helping her through a stretch.

“Just an off day, missed my yoga this morning,” I answer, trying to sound nonchalant.

After my first encounter with Verit, I felt fine. Did him taking my blood have some kind of curative effect on my body? Also, why didn’t he bite me this morning?

By the time my lunch break comes around, the soreness has dissipated somewhat, but the questions are gnawing at me like a hunger. While waiting in line for my order at the smoothie place down the street from the gym, I text Verit: Why didn’t you bite me this morning?

After a second, I go ahead and add: Also, why am I sore as hell today when I wasn’t last time?

He replies faster than I expected.

It’s complicated, but humans can become addicted to our bite. It’s best to avoid engaging in that particular pleasure too often.

As for the soreness, I apologize. After our first meeting, I used K technology to relieve the pain. I didn’t get a chance to this morning.

I grab a seat by the window and take a bite of my green goddess wrap. With human men, I have to worry about being too forward and scaring them off. But the K have different rules, and while I may not understand them fully yet, I have the feeling they’re harder to scare off.

So I text Verit: I don’t mind the reminder of you inside me. Round 3, tomorrow night?

It only takes two more bites for him to respond.

My pleasure.

The following night we meet for drinks, then head back to my place. It’s a slow burn this time, with hungry kisses by the door, greedy hands on the couch, burning skin in the hallway. By the time we tumble into bed, I’m starved for him, ripping at the last scraps of clothing keeping us apart. Verit pushes me back with a deep kiss, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. In seconds he’s fucking me relentlessly, as I scream for more. After my first orgasm, Verit releases my hands and shifts slightly, and I use the momentum to roll our bodies over, landing on top. I’ve had fun being dominated the past few days, but right now I really want to ride my gorgeous K for everything he’s worth. But before I can even straddle him properly, Verit easily flips us back over, pulling my legs up over his shoulders and pounding into me from above. The next time an opportunity presents itself, I try one more time to get on top. Again, Verit reclaims dominance immediately, and I accept defeat, playing the submissive role for the rest of the night.

In the shower, after Verit has left, I play tonight’s romp over in my head. I can’t deny that the sex was fantastic, as always. I like to be dominated, but I have no interest in being owned, in being controlled. In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t given in so easily.

I knew what I was getting myself into when I climbed into bed with a K, but I never intended to become a stereotype or another cautionary tale. We’ve all heard the horror stories of human women who got in too deep with a K. In the aftermath, they’re always made out to be naive, easily malleable things, thoughtlessly handing over their free will in exchange for a sexy blood high. Charl, it’s whispered under breaths, like a bad word. As in: She met a K, let him make her a charl, and then her loved ones never saw her again. The stereotypes about the male charl aren’t nearly as forgiving.

I lean my forehead against the cool tile wall, warm water dancing over my skin. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe a K and a girl like me aren’t compatible. Maybe I should call this off before it all goes wrong.

But, I also really want to see Verit again. And I really, really want to let him dominate me again, his rock solid body moving over me, pinning me down.

I could so easily become addicted to that, as much as I hate to admit it. But I won’t let it be at the cost of myself.

I close my eyes on tonight’s memory, and flip it. Literally. I play a new scenario over in my head, where I’m on top, I’m in charge. I’m gripping Verit’s wrists above his head, and he’s letting me, that sexy smirk twisting under a jet black blindfold. In real life, my hand slips down to my clit, and in my imagination, Verit’s soft lips follow suit. The fantasy of Verit makes me come undone just as easily as the real thing does.

A few days later, we go to a classy little café a few blocks from my apartment, where again everyone seems to know Verit. The hostess leads us to a table in a quiet corner, where mimosas that she informs us are, in fact, bottomless, are already waiting for us.

“Mimosas should only ever be bottomless,” I announce as we peruse the menu.

“Noted,” Verit says with a half cocked grin.

He orders a quinoa bowl, and I order avocado toast and coconut bacon.

“Were you a big bacon lover?” he asks, as we wait for our meals.

“Um, not really,” I say, sipping my mimosa. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve had real bacon since I was a little kid.”

“Oh, were you a vegan before our arrival?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Almost, yeah. I was a vegetarian before the Invasion, so it was a relatively easy transition for me.”

“Interesting,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve met many humans of that opinion. Most are generally rather upset about that whole ordeal.”

He brushes ‘that whole ordeal’ away with a flick of the wrist. I shrug.

“It wasn’t a huge deal for me,” I say, not wanting to get too deep into the politics of it all over a friendly brunch. Instead, I start rambling nervously about nonsense, trying to put off what I came here to say for as long as possible. “I do miss cheese quite a bit though. I loved a good grilled cheese sandwich. Ooey and gooey and dripping with calories. My mom made the best ones when I was a kid.”

He politely listens to my ramblings until our food arrives, and the bottomless liquid courage has loosened my tongue enough to finally just spit it out.

“Um, yeah,” I say, feeling more nervous than I have since our first meeting. “Listen, I had a ton of fun the other night. And morning. And night again. And I definitely want to do it again, all of it. But I’m not interested in becoming one of those girls that people talk about, the xenos that get whisked off to be property of the K. A charl.”

I say the last part in a low voice, partially out of habit, partially in case I’m pronouncing it wrong, or it’s not even a real thing, just another unfounded rumor.

Verit chuckles in that way that would be condescending coming from anyone else.

“First of all, being a charl is hardly a punishment,” he says the word mockingly, in the same hushed tone I just used. “I’d say those women are usually quite happy, and very well taken care of. Secondly, becoming a charl is a very serious step in a relationship, and you and I have only just met.”

“Oh,” I say, face warming slightly. “Okay, so there’s that. But either way, I’m no pillow princess. I’m not interested in becoming the default submissive, no matter how casual this may be.”

“I know you know that us Krinar are infamously dominant,” Verit says when I pause, and I nod. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

“I want us to take turns,” I say confidently, having finally regained my nerve. “Like a game. One night you’re in charge, and the next night I am. I know that’s unconventional for you, so I understand if you can’t agree to that.”

Verit leans back in his chair, hands folded over his broad chest, and studies me. I’m getting used to his stares, and manage to hold his gaze. I push my shoulders back, faking conviction in my ultimatum, as if I won’t be devastated by a no.

“Very well,” he says at last. “I’ll play.”

I grin broadly, and he smiles back. We finish our mimosas, and the waitress bring us dessert unexpectedly. As usual, no check arrives, but no one stops us from leaving.

On the way out, when no one is watching, I pull Verit into the café bathroom and click the lock shut behind us.

“What’s this?” Verit asks, a wicked smile playing across his lips in the dim light.

“It’s my turn,” I say, leaning against the door with a Krinar-worthy smirk of my own.

“Let the games begin,” he says, meeting me halfway in the cramped space.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask quietly, as I undo his fly with greedy fingers.

“Don’t worry,” he says in that delicious husk. “I’ve been with women like you before.”

I smile again and push him against the wall with a rough shove. “I don’t think you’ve ever met a woman quite like me.”

Our game is all I can think about. I spend my days counting down the hours until Verit and I can play again. We are a tangle of limbs in sheets, addicts chasing new highs. It took Verit a few tries to become accustomed to the new power dynamics, but once he did he quickly grew to enjoy the game as much as I do. We spend most of our nights together, occasionally preempted by meals at the expensive restaurants he frequents, but more often our shared time is spent entirely in the bedroom. We never go to his place, though. I ask about it once, but he just vaguely claims that I wouldn’t be comfortable there.

I don’t tell Noelle all the details of our arrangement, but she knows I’ve been spending more time with my K. She’s warmed up to the idea of him since his extravagant gift, especially since I let her borrow it once, but is still obviously unnerved by the situation. We avoid discussing it outright, which while not an ideal solution, is a decent band-aid fix. I’m having an insane amount of fun with Verit, but I know that our time together is temporary, and in a way, I feel our affair will probably peter out before I’m forced to figure out how to properly address the issue with Noelle.

On my way home from work, I pass a lingerie shop. I walk by this place every day, but this time a new display in the window catches my attention. A pair of wicked red panties are paired with a bra composed exclusively of strategically placed straps, and the whole thing has a sexy bondage feel. The price tag makes me pause, but if I’ve ever had a reason to own expensive lingerie, this is it.

With the black shopping bag hanging from my elbow, I text Verit to come over tonight, unable to wipe the naughty smirk from my face.

When Verit arrives, I greet him in a silky robe. He raises an eyebrow at the look, and I immediately lead him to the bedroom. It’s my night.

“Get on your knees.”

Verit obeys instantly, dropping to his knees on the plush carpet with a muffled thump. He looks up at me through long lashes, eyes bright and hungry. I circle him slowly, tracing his clavicle, shoulders, back with only the very tips of my fingers. His skin is warm and soft, but he still shivers at my touch. One side of my mouth flicks up in a quick smile, only when I’m out of sight. I stop in front of him, his eyes level with the meeting of my hips. Still, his gaze remains fixed on my face.

“Look at me,” I insist as I untie my robe and toss it aside. His eyes flick down obediently, and I watch the thirsty smile cross his face as he drinks in my new lingerie. Oh my god, I can’t believe this is my life now.

I take another step forward, closing the distance between us. Verit reaches up, but I swat his hands away before he can touch me.

“No hands.”

Verit pulls back for a second, lowering his hands, glancing up at my face again. His eyes are still starved and greedy. Then he leans forward. Soft lips press against my left hipbone, then my right, and then a wet tongue traces the lacy line drawn between. My breath catches, and I bite back a gasp. He teases the scarlet g-string until he catches it in his teeth, and pulls. It’s a slow journey down my thighs, past my knees, then the silk drops to the floor silently.

He blows on my pussy, the slightest pressure that somehow feels both cool and hot, and this time I can’t help but let out a ragged breath. A grin plays across his face for a moment, a split second of self-satisfaction, and then his lips are against my flesh.

I cry out as his tongue teases my clit, sagging back against the bed. Verit grabs my ass with both hands and pulls me forward, closer against him, nails digging into my flesh. I grip his head for support, burying my fingers into his soft curls.

“Make me come,” I say softly, but he continues to tease, so I repeat the order more forcefully. “Make me come, Verit.”

He obeys, catching me as I sag forward, legs gelatinous beneath me. He licks my folds gently until I’ve recovered. I pull him back up to his feet, guiding us both to the bed, and fetching the pair of cuffs from my nightstand. The leather restraints, a recent purchase, can’t realistically contain Verit, but they put up a better fight than the cheesy pink fur cuffs that he snapped about two nights in. I wind these around the bedpost and secure them on Verit’s wrists, pulling them tight enough to make him growl. God, every sound he makes vibrates through me like a symphony.

“Careful, kitten,” he says, in that honey liquor voice of his.

I shut him up by pressing my fingers between his lips. He immediately sucks them in, pulling hard until I gasp. When I withdraw the digits, I place them between my legs, and start rubbing my own clit. A deep rumble emanates from Verit again, and his arms pull unconsciously at the restraints, his eyes fixated on my careful ministrations.

“Shh,” I say, moving faster. “Just watch.”

The sight of him hungrily watching me makes me moan, and before long I’m riding out my second orgasm of the night, which I’m sure won’t be my last.

“Ari,” Verit gasps hoarsely beneath me. “Let me touch you.”

I release one wrist, and with inhuman speed Verit has flipped us and is pushing me into the mattress, his body heavy on top of me, restraints still hanging off of one wrist.

“It’s my night,” I protest faintly, as his erection presses against my ass.

“Yes, but I know what you want next,” he says, lining his cock up against my entrance, and pushing into me ever so slowly.

I can’t argue with that, moaning as he withdraws partially and thrusts in again, my inner walls clenching around his girth. Soon enough I’m screaming into my pillow as he comes inside me, fingers grasping desperately at his thick arms as he fills me up. How is it that every time we fuck it’s the best sex of my life, and the next time still tops it?

The first time I go to Verit’s uptown apartment is a real culture shock. He invites me over for dinner, sending his driver to pick me up. His building is modern and clean cut, a puzzle of glass and chrome. After the doorman lets me in, I take the elevator to the penthouse as instructed. Upstairs, the elevator doors opens directly into Verit’s apartment.

“Ari? I’m in the kitchen,” Verit calls out as the elevator dings shut, and I follow his voice down the hall.

The kitchen is sparse, to say the least. There is a long counter with two bar stools tucked under it, but no appliances. No fridge, no stovetop, no microwave. Bizarrely, there is a panini press, which Verit is standing over.

“Hi,” I say cautiously, taking a seat and slinging my purse strap over the back of the bar stool. “Whatcha making?”

With a mischievous grin, Verit opens the press, and I immediately recognize the smell.

“Shut up,” I say, jaw dropping open. “Grilled fucking cheese?”

“Grilled fucking cheese,” he echoes with a chuckle.

“But… how?” I ask, still half-mute with surprise. “I haven’t been able to find cheese in years, at least not anything affordable.”

“I’m a very wealthy man, Ari, with endless connections,” Verit reminds me. “It was rather easy to acquire, once I decided I wanted it.”

Like me? The thought flits across my head for a split second, but I shove it away. I’m too genuinely ecstatic about this turn of events to start overthinking the circumstances.

“Where’s your bathroom? I have to wash my hands,” I ask, hoping my excuse to snoop isn’t too thinly veiled.

“Down the hall, to the left,” Verit says.

I follow his directions, mildly unsettled by the apartment’s decor, or rather lack thereof. It’s not as if the walls are totally barren, but the whole set up feels like it came directly out of a furniture catalogue. There’s nothing personal to it. Nothing particularly homey.

The bathroom is no exception, with deceivingly simple looking stand-ins for the typical bathroom components. I assume it’s K technology, marveling as I clean my skin with the hand-sanitizer-esque gel that emits from the “sink.” It’s awe-inspiring, but also bizarre within the confines of a distinctly human apartment.

“I told you you’d feel out of place here,” Verit says when I return, still gaping at my surroundings.

“I don’t want to, though,” I admit truthfully. I regularly wish that the Krinar weren’t so steadfast about not sharing their technology, as well as most of their culture and advances, with us mere mortals. I’d love to have a freaky toilet tube in my apartment. Still, Verit’s particular set-up is so sparse, it’s hard to imagine this ever feeling like a real home.

Verit flips a sandwich off the press and onto a plate, which he slides in front of me, where a glass of red wine already awaits. The bread is perfectly toasted, the cheese oozing out delectably. I pick up the sandwich, and immediately my fingers are deliciously buttery and greasy.

“Oh, wait,” I say, face falling with the treat inches away from my mouth. “I haven’t had dairy in so long, it’ll probably make me sick.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Verit says, cutting me off before I get more upset. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a nondescript silver cylinder, and waves it at me as if I’m supposed to know exactly what it is, before hiding it away again. “If you begin to feel even slightly ill, I can heal you immediately. Just enjoy this moment.”

And so I do. Verit doesn’t partake. I offer him a bite, but he turns it down, and I don’t press him further. The grilled cheese is even better than I remember, either because of the long wait and anticipation, or because Verit likely sprung for the highest quality ingredients, or both. I moan in delight at the rich flavor, and I can tell that it’s turning Verit on a bit, but I don’t care. Well, that’s not entirely true—I do care, and I like it.

I start licking my fingers clean when I’m done, thirstily drinking in the way he watches me. After a moment, he catches my wrist over the counter, bringing my hand to his lips. He pulls my middle finger into his mouth, gently teasing it with his tongue, then sucking on it hard. I gasp at the sensation, feeling moisture begin to gather between my legs. He does the same to my other four fingers, until I’m jelly in his hands.

“How about a tour?” I ask hoarsely, when I can’t take it any longer.

As Verit leads me straight to the bedroom, I desperately want to ask if he often has humans over, particularly women. Given how cagey he’s been about inviting me, and that he’s told me before that his past affairs with humans were all one night stands or very brief flings, it seems unlikely. But I know that if he confirms this, it will cement the fact that this is special, in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for.

The bedroom is unsurprisingly vacant, aside from a large, circular bed in the center of the room, which Verit quickly tosses me onto. I’m giggling when I land, but gasp when the mattress seems to move beneath me. The soft surface shifts under my weight, changing to fit my body perfectly, even as I adjust my position.

Before I can marvel for long, Verit is on top of me. He kisses me, hard, teeth pulling carelessly at my lips. One hand pins my wrists above my head, the other is on my breasts, my hips, my ass. With one swift move he spins me around, shoving me against the bed while kissing my neck. I moan in delight, and he pulls up my dress, groaning when his hands find no panties.

“You dirty slut,” he teases quietly into my ear, nibbling at the lobe, and I feel my sex burn with want.

“Fuck me,” I demand readily, pushing my bare ass against him. I can feel his erection through his jeans, rock hard for me.

“Tsk tsk,” he reprimands, moving his hand to cover my mouth. “It’s my turn tonight.”

I suck his middle finger into my mouth, mimicking his earlier ministrations, and he inhales sharply but doesn’t stop me. I work my tongue around the digit slowly, relishing his response. He kisses the side of my neck, his free hand teasing my clit, his hips grinding against me. The friction of his jeans against my bare skin pushes me to the edge, and I cry out, releasing Verit’s finger.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asks, pushing his hand up under my dress, tugging roughly at my nipple. I nod desperately, moaning against the sheets. “That’s right, come for me Ari.”

And I do, crying out loudly, as Verit undoes his pants and rubs his cock against my ass. Still massaging my clit, he shoves into me, fast and hard. I gasp, once and then again as he pulls out and pushes in again, this time tantalizingly slowly.

“Oh, you’re dripping wet, kitten,” he says, pushing me harder into the bed. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Your cock is so big,” I moan in return. When it’s my turn, I like him quiet, but he prefers it when I talk back. “Fuck me with your big cock, Verit.”

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks, pulling out and flipping me over. I wrap my legs around his waist, working my hardest to pull him closer, closer, deeper, deeper. “You like it rough, you like it dirty, filthy. You love it when I give you what no human man has given you before. Your pussy starts dripping every time I walk into the room, I don’t even have to touch you. Isn’t that right, Ariana?”

I nod vigorously, holding on desperately to his muscled arms as he drives me dangerously close to the edge again. I turn and bury my face into the pillow, but he grips my chin with one hand, forcing me to hold his gaze.

“Don’t fight it, baby girl,” he says softly, his amber eyes blazing. “Come for me, one more time.”

And so I do, over, and over, and over again, until I can’t remember a moment before this, and I can’t imagine a life after him.

That weekend, we go to the club. Not the x-club, but a human nightclub in Brooklyn that Noelle and I frequent when we’re both single, or when we just feel like having a night out. I haven’t been clubbing since I met Verit in the x-club, and I excitedly put on my favorite sparkly silver dress and scary-tall stilettos. At the last minute, I pull on the new coat Verit gave me. I haven’t worn it out yet, terrified of losing the most expensive item I’ve ever owned in my life, but tonight it feels right.

Verit’s car shows up five minutes before we agreed to meet, as usual. I apply one last coat of lip gloss, wink at my reflection, and head out.

“You look delectable,” Verit says as soon as I slide into the town car, taking my hand to help me in and gingerly kissing my knuckles like a true gentleman.

I make a who me? face while striking a pose, and we both laugh.

“Beautiful coat,” he adds, bushing a hair off one of its shoulders.

“Are you gonna be mad if I lose this one?” I ask, teasing.

“I’ll just get you another,” he says with a shrug, and I can’t help it, I lean over and kiss him.

When we get there, the club is crowded, with a long line out front. Verit steers us to the door without hesitation, and the bouncers let us in immediately, nodding politely at Verit. I can’t tell if they know him personally, or if they just know that he’s a K, and that’s enough.

“Let’s get drinks first,” I say once we enter. I shout to be heard over the loud electronic music, although it occurs to me he probably has some sort of enhanced alien hearing that would allow him to hear me just fine even in this environment.

“Here,” Verit says, steering us to an empty table.

“Is this for us?” I ask as I sit.

“Of course,” he says, helping me out of my coat.

“You got us a table?” I ask, still a little in awe. I’ve never exactly run with a VIP crowd.

“No,” Verit says with that damn smirk. “I got us a club.”

I don’t say anything for what feels like an eternity, completely unable to process what he’s just told me.

“What are you talking about,” I finally breathe, although it doesn’t come out fully like a question.

“When you said you wanted to come here, I bought the club.” I still just stare at him, so he goes on. “It’s what I do, Ari. I invest—usually in restaurants, this is my first club. Actually, ’invest’ might be understating it a bit. You ask why we’re always so welcomed in the restaurants we visit, it’s because I own those, and several more.”

A waitress in a sequined minidress sets down an expensive looking bottle of tequila on the table, smiling nervously. Verit shoos her away, and I pour myself a shot.

“Own?” I say, when Verit pauses. “Like, fully?”

“Yes,” he says, as I suck down the shot and pour another. “Like I said, it’s sort of what I do. On Krina, I never really… excelled in a field like my peers did, at least not naturally. But when I arrived on Earth, I had money, enormous wealth, and I quickly realized that was enough to succeed on this planet. So I began investing, slowly at first, but now I’ve come to own quite a few establishments in the city. It’s not exactly skillful, but I’ve found I quite enjoy it.”

Verit inhales, and I’m somehow more floored by the hesitant expression on his face than his revelations. His K confidence, even arrogance, have never been less present. He doesn’t look human, not even close, but he looks real. Attainable. Comprehensible. In this moment, he looks like someone I could genuinely get to know, truly befriend, maybe even—

I cut myself off. Verit is still watching me, waiting for a response.

“Wow,” I say slowly, reaching out and taking his hand. “That’s really cool, Verit, to say the least. I don’t know why you waited so long to tell me, it’s not a big deal. I mean, I guess it’s a very big deal, but not in any kind of bad way.”

“I know it’s not,” he says after a thoughtful pause. “I know it’s just business, but it’s come to feel personal to me. Sex is easy, but I don’t like to share much of anything else.”

Outside of our little bubble, the music blares and bodies writhe. Inside, we sit in the moment, me and my K and the secrets he’s shared. His apartment, his livelihood, the apparent inadequacy he felt among his peers on his home planet. Have I shared anything? He knows so much about me, but those are things he’s taken for himself. I can’t remember if I’ve offered anything, at least not after the first night we met.

I let go of his hand and pour another shot.

“I thought you weren’t much of a tequila guy,” I say, after knocking my shot back, hoping to escape the intimate moment we’ve created.

“This didn’t seem like the right setting for whiskey,” Verit says, gesturing vaguely around us.

The flashing lights play across his face, but they’re different than the ones in the x-club the first night we truly met. Those were measured, intimate, purposeful. They embraced us and pulled us together, bound us into one. These are just giving me a headache, and I suddenly don’t want to be here anymore. But we are here, and I asked to come here and then Verit bought the whole damn club for the occasion, so I’m not about to ask if we can leave.

“I’m going to dance,” I say, knocking back another shot and sliding out of the booth. Verit moves to join me, but I shake my head. I lean across the table, nibble on his ear until I hear him inhale sharply, then whisper a breathy instruction. “Just watch.”

I dance for him under the lethargic neon lights. I twist my hips along to the writhing beat, relishing the way I can feel his hungry gaze on me even with my eyes closed. Even in the crowd, I know all he sees is me, because all I feel is him. After a few songs, I feel a body press against me from behind, hips swaying along to my rhythm. For a split second I think Verit’s joined me, but I can tell easily that this body is shorter, smaller, lesser. I open my eyes and see Verit still watching me from across the club, a new edge in his eyes. It’s something dangerous, and it should scare me, but something deep in my core twists with unprecedented need. Instead of moving away from the stranger grinding against me, I push closer, watching as unfamiliar hands come to rest on my hips.

When I glance back up and see Verit’s smoldering eyes, his massive frame slowly rising from the booth, I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’m not playing games anymore; I’m playing with fire.

“Go,” I say, pushing the man away as hard as I can. “Get out of here. Run.”

Noticing the rapidly approaching K as well, the stranger does as he’s told, melting into the crowd.

Verit lets him disappear, instead grabbing my arm hard, and pulling me off the dance floor. I stumble after him down a dim hallway, my heart pounding. I know I’m supposed to feel at least a twinge of fear, but instead the adrenaline rush only excites me. Verit shoves us out the back door. Without my coat, the outside chill is biting.

In the back alley behind the club, Verit spins me around and shoves me against the gritty brick wall. I gasp, all those shots rushing through my veins in overtime. His hands are greedy on my tits, my waist, my ass. I bite back a moan and arch my back, blood running so hot I feel sweaty in the winter air.

“If you were trying to get a reaction out of me,” Verit hisses behind me, and I hear him unzip his pants as he pulls my skirt up and pushes my panties to the side. “You got one.”

He pushes into me hard. I’m wet in anticipation, but I still gasp in surprise. I feel him deep inside me, and his big body on top of me presses me closer against the icy brick wall.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls into my ear.

“No,” I say, and I feel him tense. I flip my hair over my shoulder, so that there is nothing between his face and mine. “I wanted it harder.”

He growls at that, pulls out, and shoves in again, harder this time. I moan, pressing my ass back towards him. My inner walls clench around him, my body both protesting and relishing the intrusion as he slams against my cervix.

“Is that what you wanted?” he repeats, as I grind back against him.

“No,” I say again, “I wanted it faster.”

He starts pumping faster, just as deeply, and I grab at the wall desperately, toes curling in my shoes.

“Is that what you wanted, you filthy girl?”

“Touch me,” I whisper hoarsely, unable to play along any longer, sliding toward the edge. He complies, one hand grabbing harshly at my breast, the other tenderly moving against my clit.

It’s the roughest sex we’ve ever had, which is really saying something, and I can feel tomorrow’s bruises even as I cry out in tonight’s ecstasy. I can’t get enough of this creature, be it between silk sheets, or in a trashy back alley. We finish together in loud, violent orgasms that echo down the street.

Before we go back inside, Verit grabs me by the arms and kisses me again, harshly, possessively.

“I will play your games, but I won’t share you.”

We spend the rest of the night dancing only with each other. Long past midnight, we stumble into Verit’s car. In the backseat, I curl up tipsily against my K, leaning my legs across his lap, burying my head into his shoulder. He’s so warm and solid beneath me, my man, my K, my Verit. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him close, close, closer. He smells like cinnamon and smoke and subtle, sweet sweat. I can’t get close enough. I want to be part of him, I want us to inhabit the same body. I just want to be… closer.

Verit brushes the hair off my sweaty forehead, and kisses me there softly. And that’s when I fall asleep, buried against my dangerous K in the backseat, the safest I’ve ever been.

I spend Sunday evening at the gym, trying to work through the weekend’s soreness before Monday’s classes. I haven’t seen or heard from Verit since he poured me into bed last night, blessedly using some of that K tech to save me from the worst hangover ever. As I watch my reflection stretch in the studio’s floor-to-ceiling mirrors, a thought flits across my treacherous mind: I wonder what it would be like to wake up next to my K. I shake the idea away and try to focus.

I’m hanging upside-down in downward dog when I hear the studio door click open, then shut. I sweep into upward dog, expecting to greet a fellow trainer here for a late night workout. Instead, I see Verit filling the doorframe, with his arms crossed and that damn twitched lip.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, swinging my legs forward into a seated position. I don’t bother asking how he found me or entered the locked gym—I know better by now.

“I wanted to see you in your element,” he says, trailing his hand along the barre as he walks toward me. He has all the grace of a ballerina, paired with the raw masculinity of… well, a K.

“Well, this is it,” I say, hopping to my feet and gesturing at our surroundings. “This isn’t the studio I usually teach in, but you get the idea.”

“And you usually teach self defense?” he asks, still slowly circling me.

“Um, yeah,” I say, twisting to keep him in my eyeline. “Mainly. That’s my most popular—”

Verit lunges at me then, arms outstretched as if to grab me, and I reflexively drop and somersault away from him, popping back up with fists raised defensively. He immediately strikes at me with his own fists, which I block once, twice, three times, before he falls back.

He nods approvingly, and a rush of adrenaline floods over me. I know he’s majorly pulling his punches—I’m in no real danger, and if I were, no amount of training could protect me—but it’s certainly fun to pretend. I blow a loose strand of hair out of my face, and spring at Verit. He lets me tackle him to the ground, where we roll around for a while, play-fighting. I manage to pin him down and straddle his chest, but he growls and easily somersaults us so he’s in the dominant position. I wriggle my way out of his hold and jump onto his back, so on and so forth. Soon enough we’re laughing so hard all we can do is lie on our backs, side by side on the hardwood.

“How’d I do?” I ask, still panting, propping myself up on one elbow to look at Verit.

“Quite impressive,” he says, turning to face me, then adds, “for a human.”

I swat at him playfully, rolling my eyes. As I do, he catches my wrist and pulls me toward him. With one swift movement, he has me straddling him again, pulling me down into a deep kiss. His hands remain chastely on my hips, but his lips are greedy.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I say after a few minutes, jumping back into a standing position and reaching down to help him up, an unnecessary gesture he generously plays along with.

“That’s enough?” he asks dubiously, eyebrows raised.

“That’s enough foreplay,” I smirk, climbing out of my yoga pants, and he eagerly meets me halfway.

As I watch at us fuck in the mirror, watch his massive body pound mine into the wall, I see the clear reflection in my face of the same cocktail of emotions that floods me every time we have sex these days. The intense, undeniable, endless pleasure that our game provides without fail, mixed with the ever-intensifying feeling that even when I’m in control, I’m not.

I worry that the distance growing between me and Noelle has ventured into dangerous territory. It’s not a tangible, aggressive tension, but the effect feels the same. I miss her, and as much as I enjoy my time with Verit, he can’t provide the kind of intimate camaraderie I crave from my best friend.

Girls’ night? I finally text, in a fit of guilt after cancelling on our plans to hook up with Verit for the millionth time in a row. Girls’ day, actually. Saturday? Brunch, spa, happy hour? My treat :)

It’s the magic itinerary that we normally only treat ourselves to a couple times a year, usually on a birthday or Valentine’s Day, if we’re single and sometimes even if we’re not. If done right, these days usually culminate in drunken rewatches of our favorite old-timey romcoms, and us passed out slumped against each other on the couch, with half-empty popcorn bowls precariously balanced on our laps and red wine stains on the carpet.

Of course!!!!!!! Noelle texts back almost immediately, accompanied by a wild array of excited emojis. Don’t you fucking dare bail on me, Ariana.

I text her our emoji code for cross my heart, and I mean it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in today?” Verit asks faux-innocently, wrapping himself around me as I brush my hair, his hand slipping sneakily into my jeans. “Stay in bed, I mean?”

“I’m sure,” I say, pulling his hand out of my pants with more self control than I knew I possessed. “I owe her this. But we can stay in bed all day tomorrow, if you promise to cure my inevitable hangover.”

“Of course,” he says, settling for a consolation kiss before I grab my purse and head out.

I had Verit come over for a quickie before I met Noelle this morning. It’s pathetic, but just the thought of not feeling his touch for over 24 hours seemed unbearable. And considering the eagerness with which he responded to my request, it’s possible he may have felt similarly. With Verit, sex isn’t just a want, it’s a need. Oh god, just thinking about him…

“Wow, you’re really far gone, aren’t you?” Noelle teases, knocking me out of my bubbly-induced daydream.

“Hmm?” I ask, drawing my attention back to our brunch and mimosas. Bottomless, of course. “What do you mean?”

“I mean maybe you should slow down just a touch,” she says, gesturing at my glass. “We’ve got a long day of drinking ahead of us, and you’re already totally spacing out.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling as if I just got away with something. “Right, of course.”

We get through the day like varsity players: bottomless mimosas, champagne at the spa, a long stroll through Central Park with spiked coffees to re-energize before the main event, and then happy hour, keeping a running score of who can get the most drinks bought for them.

“I think I’m going to break up with Robbie,” Noelle spits out that night, as Meg Ryan falls in love on screen and I nearly choke on a handful of potato chips in real time.

“What?” I ask, struggling to sit up straight and face my friend. “What are you even talking about?”

“We fight too much,” Noelle says, eyes still fixated to the television as if it’s her lifeline. “We fight all the time, about the smallest shit, and it’s been this way for months now.”

“You’re supposed to fight,” I say, the words coming out of me automatically. I’m way too far gone for this moment. “That’s how you know the passion is still—“

“No, don’t give me that shit,” she says, rolling her rapidly moistening eyes. “That’s something people say in movies, to make us all feel better about our dead-end relationships. Constant arguments might be a kind of passion, but it’s not a sustainable one, and it’s not what I want.”

She pauses for a second, then punctuates her statement with a handful of popcorn thrown at the happy couple on TV, and a frustrated shout.

“Noelle…” I say, and trail off, because this is how these conversations go. She knows what she wants, and she doesn’t really need my input for this part of it. She just needs me to listen.

“It’s okay,” she says, right on cue. “We haven’t even been together for a year, and I always knew he wasn’t the one. I mean, remember that mustache he had when I met him? Ugh, what was I thinking, Ari?”

I start giggling despite myself, and after a beat she joins in, and we trade shitty Robbie stories until she’s crying with laughter now. Maybe she’ll break up with him, maybe she won’t. She’s right, she probably won’t end up with him at the end of her story. But I’m in no position to judge her for taking the long way around.

“What about you?” Noelle asks a little later, when we’re cuddled up in her bed, eyelids heavy with liquor and emotion.

“Me?” I repeat, blinking into the darkness.

“Yeah, what about your K?” she says, her shape warm and familiar beside mine. “It must be going well. You spend practically all your time with him.”

I roll the possible responses around in my mind before speaking, trying to decide which half-truth to lean into. But lying here in the dark together, wrapped up in the pure, untouchable kind of intimacy that only longtime friends can share, I feel compelled to tell the truth. I’m not sure what I’m going to say until it’s spilling out of me, the reality of my situation unspooling in real time.

“I’m in deep, Noelle. Real fucking deep. Maybe this is a huge mistake, and maybe I’ll regret it. Hell, I’ll probably regret it. But right now, it doesn’t feel like that. It doesn’t feel like anything I’ve ever known before, good or bad. This is life changing, one-in-a-million, otherworldly, and I’m not going to run away from it just because it’s a little scary.”

“I thought it was just sex,” Noelle says very quietly, as if afraid she’ll spook me.

“Yeah, it is,” I say after too long a pause. Then again, not sure which one of us I’m trying to convince. “It is.”

When I get to my apartment building a few nights later, there’s a distinct aroma wafting down the hallway. I assume a neighbor is making dinner, but when I arrive at my front door, I realize the smell is unmistakably emitting from my apartment. Confused and slightly alarmed, I unlock my door and enter. What I see makes sense, bizarre though it may be: Verit, looking handsome as always with his sleeves rolled up and the stained denim apron that usually hangs in my pantry tied around his waist, standing over my stove, stirring a big pot. I easily forgive the troublesome yet unsurprising fact that he’s apparently broken into my apartment, because holy shit, this scene is sexy.

“This is a surprise,” I say, setting my bag down in the foyer and shrugging off my jacket.

“I thought we’d agreed to dinner tonight,” Verit says.

“Yeah, but I thought that meant a restaurant, later, maybe after I showered and changed.”

I gesture at the yoga pants and oversized tee I’m wearing, and Verit just smiles.

“I think you look delightful, as usual,” he says. I roll my eyes, biting back a secret smile.

“I’m gonna go change anyway,” I say.

I rapidly throw on jeans and a comfy but flattering sweater, and shake my hair out of its messy ponytail. When I reemerge, bare feet patting quietly on the hardwood, Verit is ladling the contents of the pot into bowls.

“Do you need help with anything?” I ask, feeling awkward in my own home. I’ve gotten good at our game, but tonight Verit is playing a wild card I didn’t even know was in the deck.

“I’ve got it,” he says, gesturing for me to go sit in the dining room.

The table there is set more formally than it has been since I moved here, with a small candle lit and everything. He gently sets a bowl in front of me, and the whole thing feels so unsettlingly… Romantic? Domestic?

I push the thought aside and focus on my meal. It looks kind of like a stew, with chunky vegetables bobbing in a thick, pale red sauce.

“Thanks for cooking,” I call out as Verit heads back to the kitchen for something. I play with my spoon nervously, waiting for him to return. “Do you cook often? Your kitchen looked pretty… unused.”

“When I have reason to,” he says, reemerging with a bottle of red wine and pouring us both glasses. “With our technology it’s not necessary, but since arriving here I’ve found the process of manually putting together a meal very satisfying.”

He sits, and I take a bite of my stew. “Oh my god, Verit, this is incredible.”

It’s creamy, with rich flavor. I recognize squash, sweet potato, and carrot in the mix. I can’t identify one ingredient, though. The small orbs look like red peas, but have the meaty texture of a bean.

Verit has been watching me, and grins when I look up at him with a perplexed expression.

“I see you’ve found my secret ingredient,” he says. “Those are a type of berry from Krina.”

My eyes widen. I’ve never had real K food before. Although the K have been living among us for a while, in my experience it’s uncommon for them to share their culture like this. I take another bite, savoring the unfamiliar sweet, slightly spicy taste of the berries with new appreciation.

“Wow, Verit, thank you,” I say after a moment. “I’m not really sure what to say.”

He shrugs it off, and asks about my day. I make half-assed small talk, my mind still buzzing with alarm. I know I should be grateful for this thoughtful evening, but my guard is up. Is this a date? It feels a lot like a date, not our usual kind that is essentially just foreplay, but a serious one. My insides feel restless within my skin. A casual fling with a K is one thing. This feels almost too real.

It’s his night, but after dinner I fake a headache. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I’m hoping maybe the Krinar haven’t heard about this particular cliche yet. Either way, he offers to fetch his K healing technology, but I tell him it’s okay, he can go, and he begrudgingly does so, only after cleaning my kitchen thoroughly and all but tucking me into bed.

After he leaves, I lie awake and wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. A gorgeous man—with the sickest dick game I’ve ever experienced—made me an incredible meal, just because. Why is this causing me so much distress? He’s beautiful, with incandescent eyes, the softest hair, and a body that makes me swoon. He’s intelligent beyond my understanding, funny in a weird way, and always listens so intently to even my dumbest rambling. And, my god, does he know how to work my body.

I’ve never really had commitment issues, not with human men. But the idea of a serious relationship with a K makes my stomach twist, even after all these weeks sharing my bed with Verit. I’m still so scared of the consequences, of what my friends would think, what my family would think, of what I would think of myself.

But one loud worry rises above all the rest, perhaps the biggest of them all: I think I’m starting to fall for him.

The next time Verit comes over, I’m prepared. It’s my night, and we’re not wasting any time with homemade dinners, expensive wine, or conversation. He only has to rap on the door once and I’m dragging him into my apartment by the lapel, shoving him against the wall, and kissing him for all I’m worth. He only seems surprised for a second, before lifting me to his hips so that I’m slightly above him, the way he knows I like.

“Take me to bed,” I whisper in his ear, nibbling on the lobe gently, and he eagerly obliges.

I have my K go down on me until I come once, twice… until I lose count. Until the blinding pleasure he provides drives any thought of the provider, any thought at all out of my mind. His tongue, his lips, his hands… the feeling of his skin against mine sets me alight, his touch burns me, leaving indelible marks that could never be erased or rewritten, not by anyone, not ever.

“Fuck me,” I beg, softly, then louder, because I can’t stand having him so near, I can’t stand not having him closer. I need him as badly as I hate this desperate desire he creates, I crave his touch as intensely as I fear it. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!”

When he’s inside me, I can almost pretend I don’t see the walls crumbling down around us. When he’s making me scream, I can’t hear the alarm bells.

After, lying drained and drowsy in my bed, I watch my K dress. He steps into his overpriced jeans and pulls them up in little hops, a goofy quirk that feels so human. He pulls his henley over his head, the slow stretch showcasing rippling abs. My heart beats faster even as he ties his shoes, with quick, precise tugs. I want to memorize this routine. I want to memorize all his routines, no matter how small or insignificant, drink them in until they become mine, and mine become his.

He looks back at me before he leaves, and I pretend to be asleep. Through slitted lids I watch him hover in the doorway for a long minute before turning away, flipping off the light as he goes. A click of my front door, and then he’s gone, and I feel myself deflate. I’m half drunk on exhaustion, too far gone to think straight, but without him around, I only feel halfway myself anymore.

Verit told me that his bite could be addictive, but he never warned me about the way I’d come to crave him.

I keep up the charade for longer than I thought I was capable of. I make excuses to avoid any interaction with Verit outside of the bedroom, no matter how tempting. I overthink our every moment together, until I’m sick living in my own head. I know what my truth is, I’ve known it for a long time. But these feelings come with heavy consequences, so I go back over and over again to the only thing that can silence them, if only for a moment.

Tonight he knocks on my door right on schedule, a familiar sound that elicits a Pavlovian beating in my heart and tightening in my sex.

“I like the hairdo,” Verit says as he closes the door behind himself, gesturing with a nod to the two messy buns I’ve got over my ears.

“Thanks, I used to call them my Princess Leia buns,” I say, squishing them down a bit to more closely resemble their namesake.

“Princess Leia?” Verit repeats, looking confused for possibly the first time ever.

“Yeah, like from Star Wars?” I say, but he still looks lost. “The insanely popular movie franchise? You’ve never watched them?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever felt particularly intrigued by your human entertainment,” he says with a shrug, folding his coat over the back of a kitchen chair and moving to unbutton his shirt, as usually I would have already torn his clothes off myself by now.

“Nope, we’re fixing this,” I say, swatting his hands away from his buttons. I run to the living room while Verit follows, his perturbed expression now bemused.

“Fix what?” he asks, as I click on the television and pull up A New Hope. “Ah, I see.”

He sits down on the couch and after pressing play, I join him. Verit and I have experimented with a lot of positions over the weeks, but this one is unfamiliar. Verit lounges on one end of the couch, arms spread along the back comfortably, while I perch stiffly on the other end, the space between us miles longer by the second. Our bodies fit together so naturally when we’re naked, why is this so different?

“Is this really what you humans imagined spaceships to be?” Verit says with a loud scoff as the first ship drifts onto the screen, wildly shooting poorly animated lasers.

“To be fair, this is a super old movie,” I say, suddenly intensely defensive of us humans. “We had no idea very real aliens would arrive sooner rather than later.”

Before he can respond, the infamous droid duo appears on screen, and Verit bursts out laughing. Again, my first instinct is to take the reaction personally, but as my K continues to nearly guffaw with pleasure, I can’t help but join in. We finish the movie that way, with Verit commenting on every factual error regarding space and aliens, and me pointing out the shitty visual effects, and the both of us laughing until my belly hurts.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how dumb that would probably seem to you,” I say as the credits roll.

“No, I loved it,” Verit says, quite genuinely. “I found it rather amusing, and I can see why something of the sort would be so compelling to humans, before our arrival. Aren’t there more of these?”

“You want to watch another?” I ask, a little taken aback. “‘Cause there’s like, a million more.”

“I very much want to,” he says, so I let the next one play, then the next.

As we watch, Verit’s laughter slows, as he becomes wholly enthralled by the story. At a similar pace, our bodies naturally lean and curl toward each other, until I’m tucked against his side and he’s absently stroking my hair while transfixed by the cheesy action on the screen.

I could get used to this, I think, before drifting off.

When I wake up the next morning, my K is still holding me.

I’m shivering on the walk home from brunch. After last night, I feel as if the energy around us has shifted ever so slightly, but then again, I’m probably just too much in my head.

“I hate this damn cold,” I say when we get back to my apartment, untangling myself from a seemingly useless scarf. “This winter has been eternal.”

Verit looks at me, then looks thoughtful for a moment.

“So let’s go to Costa Rica,” he says, leaning against the counter, and I freeze with my arms awkwardly over my head.

Because the other shoe, the one I’ve been waiting on for months now? It just dropped.

I know what’s in Costa Rica. It’s one of the most infamous K compounds. It’s the one that the much-whispered-about charl are always being whisked off to.

“Verit, I can’t,” I say, setting my scarf aside and squaring my shoulders, nerves shot. “I have a life here, family, friends… I can’t just disappear. You can’t just take me.”

Verit furrows his brow.

“Take you? What are you talking about? I thought a warm weekend getaway would be a tempting treat, was I mistaken?”

“Weekend getaway?” I repeat, my spiraling heart coming to a screeching halt. “I thought you meant— Shit, I did it again. I assumed—“

“That I’m the big bad K, here to steal you away against your will?” he asks, with a light smirk. “Ari, you should know by now, I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

He chuckles at that, but I still feel like the worst.

“V, I’m sorry—”

But he cuts me off by literally sweeping me off my feet, gently placing me on the kitchen counter and meeting my mouth in a kiss that is both gentle and ravishing.

“Well?” he says when we come up for air. “Want to sneak off to sunny Costa Rica for a couple days?”

After work that Friday, I meet Verit at his apartment with a bag packed to the brim with all my favorite summer clothes. Even Noelle was blatantly jealous of my little vacation. When we head to the roof of his building, I’m expecting a helicopter—which already would’ve been pretty damn cool. Instead, what I see is a tiny beige pod. Despite its utter lack of entrances, Verit heads directly towards the object, and a door-like opening appears as if by magic.

I gasp despite myself. “Holy shit.”

“Are you going to be this easily impressed all weekend?” Verit asks, holding out a hand to help me hesitantly step in.

“Probably,” I say.

Verit laughs and directs me to sit on a floating plank. I tentatively lower myself onto it, expecting it to disappear beneath me at any given moment, but instead the material seems to meet me halfway, subtly molding itself around my body the way Verit’s bed did. From the inside, the pod is completely transparent, which is absolutely horrifying as it gently lifts and suddenly rockets ahead at an impossible speed. A small shriek escapes my lips in shock, but dies off as I realize the ride actually feels as smooth as a slow drive. Below us, the city looks like a time lapse photograph, tangled streaks of light dancing in the twilight.

“How long will the flight take?” I ask, turning to Verit when the blur becomes dizzying.

“We’re nearly there,” he says. “Here, I’ll slow down a bit so you can see.”

If I thought Verit’s pod was impressive, Lenkarda is breathtaking. The green blur focuses into a stunningly lush landscape. As we slow and begin to descend, I spot what look like giant, pale mushroom caps scattered throughout this specific area of the jungle. Definitely not human structures. The largest, a pure white dome, seems to mark the center of the compound, and smaller green and brown buildings clearly delineate what must be the perimeter. My heart pounds with the sheer alienness of it all. It’s one thing to see the otherworldly creatures walking the streets of our cities. It’s another to take one of their alien spaceships to their alien compound, surrounded by their alien technology, impossibly far from the comforting familiarity of my human life.

The pod lands as gently as it took off, and we exit into a small clearing. I look around, but in the rapidly dimming twilight, all I see is thick jungle. When I turn back to Verit, the ship has already disappeared.

“Did it take off again?” I ask, miles past confused.

“No, I simply unmade it, as we won’t be needing it for a couple days,” Verit explains, as if this would make any fucking sense to me. He catches the expression on my face and tries again. “Ariana, have you ever heard of nanotechnology? I’m not an expert, but I could explain the basics.”

As we stroll through the jungle, he walks me through the basics, and I almost start to get it, although I’ve never been much of a tech person. It’s really beginning to sink in how completely out of my element I’m going to be while we’re in Lenkarda, and as much as that terrifies me, I am also deeply excited at the thought of such a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

Eventually we arrive in another clearing, with what looks like a larger version of the pod we flew here in. Again, a door-sized portion of the wall disintegrates when Verit approaches it.

“This is cool as shit,” I say, trying to peer closer at the cross-section of the wall as I pass through. “Will it open like that for me too?”

“Of course,” Verit says. “Welcome to my home, Ari.”

Again, the inside is very similar to the pod. The walls are transparent, and floating beige planks of varying sizes replace the furniture I would typically expect in a human house. I imagine if I were to sit on one, it would immediately shape itself to the curves of my body.

“Is it too much?” Verit asks from what may or may not be the dining area. “I can fabricate some human furniture, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Thanks, but I like it like this,” I say truthfully. Who would visit an alien compound and not want to experience it in its truest form? That would be like traveling across the world and ordering a hot dog and fries.

Verit watches with some amusement as I walk around his home slowly, peeking in every corner, running my fingers along the walls, sitting on every surface.

“This is incredible,” I say at last, rejoining him. “I’m in a K house. In Lenkarda. With a K. Oh god, my parents would kill me if they knew.”

Verit laughs. “Would you like some dinner? You must be starving.”

“I kind of want dessert first,” I say, hopping up on what I think is the table and kicking my shoes off.

“Dessert?” Verit steps toward me, eyebrow cocked.

“Mhmm,” I say, pulling him the rest of the way toward me by the lapels. “I’m in a K house. In Lenkarda. With a K. I’m practically in another world. Now I want an otherworldly fuck.”

We spend most of the morning rolling around in bed—which is crazy, since I’m pretty sure we were up practically all night doing the same. Verit provided an earth-shattering, otherworldly fuck as requested, intoxicating bite and all.

“Ready to go to the beach?” Verit asks as I emerge from possibly the best shower of my life.

“Damn, I almost would have skipped the past dozen orgasms if it meant getting to the beach faster,” I tease, rummaging through my bag for a bikini. “Almost.”

“How about one more for the road?”

I squeal as Verit sweeps me up and tosses me on the bed, and we’re both smiling as he leans in for a kiss.

Oh god, the beach is glorious. The sun on my face, the sand between my toes, the salty breeze… life should never feel any less perfect than this. It’s all I can do not to close my eyes and spin with my arms outstretched like I’m in a commercial for antidepressants.

The beach isn’t exactly crowded, but we do run into a few other people as we walk along the water. A glistening male K freshly emerged from a swim, who Verit introduces to me as Juron, a male and female pair sitting in the sand who he doesn’t seem to know personally but greets cordially in a foreign language I don’t recognize, and a very blonde, very human woman who waves at us with a gentle smile as she jogs by.

We finally pause for a swim of our own, leaving kicked-off shoes and a pile of clothes on the beach and racing each other into the water. Splashing around and giggling with my K, gasping as he picks me up and kisses me deeply in the surf, I find myself thinking not for the first time, I could get used to this.

“Ari? Ariana Sandoval?”

It takes me a minute to respond to my own name, because this is the very last place on Earth I would ever expect to hear it. Verit sets me down, and I shade my eyes and peer at the shore.

“Who is that?” Verit asks pleasantly, waving at the figure. He’s truly in his element here, among his people.

“I’m not sure,” I say, starting to walk back to the shore.

“Ari?” the figure calls out again, and as I approach, the familiarity of her face suddenly falls into place. “It’s me, R—”

“Raquel!” I finish, running the rest of the way to her and meeting her in a hug.

Raquel and I met our first year of college, way back when I was still on a pre-law track. We stayed friends even after I changed my mind, although we grew apart when she went to law school on the West Coast. Last I heard, she was a badass public defender in LA, before randomly dropping off the grid a few months ago.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” I ask when we break apart, still completely taken aback by this surprise meeting.

“I live here,” Raquel says, beaming. Then with a giggle, she comically smacks her forehead. “Oh god, sorry. This is Maur, my cheren. Maur, this is an old friend of mine, Ari.”

Cheren? She gestures to the tall K standing just a few feet away from us, who I somehow hadn’t noticed in all the excitement. The beautiful woman brushes her long dark hair behind one ear and greets me with a silent but friendly nod.

“Are you a charl too? Is this your cheren?” she continues in that almost-bubbly manner that is so far removed from the high-strung, perpetually stressed Raquel I knew, I almost wonder if this is even the same woman. She’s gesturing at Verit, who is currently emerging from the sea behind us like a fucking Greek god.

“Um, I don’t…” I trail off, completely lost, but Verit picks up the slack.

“Ariana and I are only here for a brief visit,” he explains. “I’m sorry, I missed the introductions. I’m Verit.”

The three of them do introductions, although it turns out Verit and Maur already know each other, while I stand slightly to the side, somehow feeling even more like an outsider than I did before.

“Verit, do you mind if I steal Ari away for a quick catch-up?” Raquel asks. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Of course,” Verit says, motioning to Maur. “I wouldn’t mind the chance to catch up with Maur as well.”

I barely have chance to grab my tank top off the sand before Raquel is dragging me away down the beach.

“Damn, Ari, you landed yourself a hot one,” she says in a loud stage whisper, pulling me in with a conspiratorial smile as I pull the sandy top on over my soaked bikini. I just roll my eyes in response, not sure I want to jump to that part of the conversation quite yet.

“Raquel, you look great,” I say instead, and I mean it. She’s practically glowing.

“Turns out the charl life really suits me,” she says with a beaming smile, and my world tilts a little bit to the left. It’s not like Raquel and I have been very close recently, but this new information has really pulled the floor out from beneath me. She’s the last person I ever would have expected to wind up a charl. Strong, mentally and physically. Smart, independent, iron-willed. I always seriously admired her. And now, she’s a charl, swept off to Costa Rica in secret like so many others.

If they got to a woman like her, how do I even stand a chance?

“How long have you been here?” I ask, trying to shake my spiraling thoughts.

“I guess it’s been a few months now, I’ve lost track of time a little,” she giggles, meaning she’s officially giggled more today than in all the years I knew her. “I’d been with Maur for almost a year before that, but it took me a while to work up the courage to commit to the big move. Best decision I ever made. How about you? How long have you been with Verit?”

“Um, just a couple months, I guess,” I say, as we settle onto a washed-up log just out of reach of the lapping tide, smooth as stone from saltwater and wind. “But, we’re not really together-together. It’s just a fling of sorts.”

Raquel looks at me sideways, a knowing look on her face. I’m still reconciling this carefree Raquel with the one I used to know, but she’s picked up right where we left off.

“Ari, come on,” she says, her tone teasing but her words serious. “You know that’s not true, right? Ks don’t bring flings to Lenkarda.”

“Fuck,” I say aloud, although I only meant to think it. I bury my face in my hands, groaning in frustration and a certain degree of fear. “Shit. That’s what I was afraid of, but I told myself I was just being paranoid. I told him… I fucking told him I didn’t want anything serious. I don’t want… No offense, honestly, but I really, really don’t want to become a charl. I just… It was never supposed to end like this.”

Raquel waits quietly, letting me speak, and then letting me sit in my words.

“I mean, it hasn’t ended yet,” she says finally, reaching out and gently setting a warm hand on my shoulder. “And if Verit hasn’t forced you to become his charl yet, I imagine he probably never will. Force you, I mean. He wants you to want it, too. And maybe he’s not even there yet himself, I don’t know. But he brought you here, so it’s not just a fling to him, not anymore. And I saw the way you looked at him, even just in that minute I could tell. It’s not a fling to you anymore, either. I bet it hasn’t been for a long time.”

“Raquel, I can’t fall for a K,” I choke out, my heart in my throat. “I just can’t.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Raquel asks, pulling my face from my hands, and forcing me to look her in the eyes. “Are you afraid because he’s cruel to you? Are you afraid because you think he’s not the one? Or are you afraid because you think you’re supposed to be?”

I hold her gaze for a long moment, before tearing my eyes away, overwhelmed with emotion.

“Listen, Ari, I don’t think I have to tell you that being a charl isn’t that bad, not at all. I mean, just look at me. I’ve never been happier, healthier, better, not in my whole life. And I can introduce you to a dozen other charl here who will all tell you the same. I remember all the rumors and the whispers, but that’s all they are. Humans fear what they don’t understand. But just look at me, look at me and understand.”

“Raquel, I’m so scared,” I whisper, blinking back tears. I repeat the only clear thought circling in my brain. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

“And I’m telling you,” she says, standing and reaching down to help me up. “It’s not ending. This is only just beginning for you.”

Verit and I head back to his home for lunch, and if he notices I’m a little bit off, a little bit quiet, he doesn’t bring it up. After probably the best salad I’ve ever had, which floated down to us by the same technology I keep having to remind myself isn’t actual magic, Verit shows off more of his fun toys. He speaks a foreign language at a thin tablet, and the device projects a huge, 3D version of a Star Wars film—the man is seriously hooked. After the movie, he creates a simulation of the Millennium Falcon, that looks even more realistic than the original set. And then, something I never would’ve dreamed of in a million years: my alien lover fucks me against the walls of the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy.

“And this, this is a fabricator,” he says, stopping me from pulling my tank and shorts back on after. With the device, he creates a yellow sundress seemingly out of thin air. I pull it on over my naked body, and the material is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Comfortable, lightweight, and flattering. “I noticed you wear a lot of yellow, especially when you’re in a good mood.”

“I guess I do,” I say, running my hands down my body, still fascinated by the texture. “Thank you, Verit, this is incredible. This whole day has been incredible.”

“It’s not over yet,” he says with a smile, and it takes me a second to conjure up one of my own. “Ready for dinner?”

We return to the beach, with Verit carrying a picnic basket straight out of an old timey movie. The beach wasn’t exactly crowded this afternoon, but now it seems completely deserted. He stretches out a blanket over the sand, and we watch the sunset while sipping expensive champagne and eating the freshest strawberries I’ve ever had.

The sunset is exquisite, but I can hardly see it, the landscape blurred by tear-filled eyes.

“You’re unhappy,” Verit says, not exactly a question.

“No. Yes. I mean…” I trail off, blinking fast in a desperate attempt to clear my overemotional tear ducts. “This has been one of the best days ever. We have so much fun together, and I love discovering more and more about your people and your technology. But, I think maybe this thing between us has gotten away from me a little bit. I know we agreed to keep it casual, but lately… I can’t stop thinking about you. Not ever. I miss you when you’re not around, even if it’s just for a day, an hour, a minute. It terrifies me, but I want… I don’t know exactly what I want, but I want more. More time with you, more days like this, more everything. I don’t even know if you feel the same way, maybe you don’t at all, but…”

I can’t speak, my tongue tied with too many things to say and no more words to express them. He catches my hand, slowly tracing the lines across my palm with warm fingers as he talks.

“You captivate me, Ariana. No other woman, human or K, has caught my attention this way before. You’re a challenge. You’re a puzzle. You keep me on my toes. I’ve never been with anyone quite like you. I could never go back to the women I used to prefer. And even if we aren’t meant to be forever, you’ve changed me for life, left an indelible mark on me. But if we are, I think we could be something great together, something real, something lasting.”

I’m crying for real now, silently, motionless, completely overcome with emotion, and he waits patiently until I compose myself enough to speak.

“Do you want to make me your charl?” I ask, barely above a whisper, not sure if I’m more afraid of a yes or a no.

There’s a beat before he answers, with a question of his own.

“Is that what you want, Ari?”

“I’m not sure,” I say honestly. “I’m not as afraid as I used to be. But we’ve only known each other for a couple months, I’m not sure I’m ready to commit a literal eternity to this, not yet.”

“I agree,” Verit says, brows knit together in fierce seriousness. “But if we want this relationship to progress, to evolve into something more, I think that it has to be a possible outcome. Is it?”

I’m quiet for a long minute, thinking it over. I’m still terrified of the idea of losing my humanity, of giving my entire self to a K, of taking an action many would consider a deep betrayal to my species. But, with Verit’s large hands wrapped tightly around my small ones, his ever-incandescent eyes tenderly holding mine, my fears melt away. He cares for me, genuinely, no matter what others may think. He would never take anything from me that wasn’t willingly offered. Everything changed the second the Krinar landed on our planet, all those years ago, and it’s time we all caught up to the new status quo.

“It is,” I say, taking a deep breath. “It definitely is.”

He kisses me, with all the fire and intensity and potential that hangs heavy in the air between us.

“So we’re doing this,” he says, as if to confirm it to himself, and there it is, that honey-silk voice that first attracted me to this beautiful creature, that still sweeps me off my feet after all this time, and I know I made the right decision.

“Wait, does this mean the game is over?” I ask, suddenly remembering how this crazy rollercoaster first began.

Verit thinks it over for a moment.

“Perhaps, in a way. We can play for fun, but I don’t think we need rules anymore. We’re on the same team now. We just do what we want, when it feels right.”

“I like that,” I say, smiling. “And I think I know what we want right now.”

That night, on the beach, has nothing to prove. It’s not rough, it’s not possessive, it’s not a power struggle. It’s slow, and tender, two bodies moving completely in sync, a symphony of quiet moans and murmurs.

It might be the end of the game.

But it’s just the beginning of us.

Thank you for reading Domination Games! If you enjoyed Ari and Verit’s story, I hope you consider leaving a review on Amazon. As a new author, every review really helps me out! You can also check out some of the other great stories in the Krinar World, including Submission Games, my companion novella to Domination Games, and Girls on the Run, my series of short Krinar vignettes.

To drop me a line, follow me on social media, or find out when my next story is coming out, you can visit my website at www.francescabaez.com.

Flip the page for a sneak peek from Submission Games!

“That’s better now, isn’t it?” the K asks, as I wrap myself up in the giant, fluffy towel he handed me. I don’t have the time or patience to ask why he was already prepared to deal with a dripping wet captive. I’m going to be at least an hour late to work, assuming this conversation goes fast and doesn’t end with my kidnapping-slash-murder. If I don’t stop mouthing off so much, it’ll probably be the latter.

I take a deep breath and force myself to chill out a little.

“What are you doing here?” I ask again, this time with a fraction less hostility. “I thought we had an arrangement.”

“We did,” the creature purrs, smooth as velvet. “But that was before I knew how fun you and your sweet little pussy were going to be.”

I immediately turn crimson, glancing up at the driver, but he either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care about the pornographic conversation taking place in his backseat.

“Noelle,” the K says, somehow stretching out my name into winding silk ribbon that seems to squeeze the breath out of my lungs. “I know you had fun that night, too.”

I don’t want to reply to that, to give him the satisfaction of confirming what he already knows. Instead, I pull the towel tighter around myself and glare back up at the looming figure.

“At least tell me your name,” I demand, as fiercely as I dare. “Since you somehow know mine.”

“Guess,” he teases, again in that annoying melodic tone.

“I don’t like playing games,” I snap. Damn, this whole not mouthing off thing is not going so great. “Just tell me.”

“Very well,” he says, lips curving down. Clearly, I’m not turning out to be as fun as he’d hoped. Fingers crossed this disappointment simply ends in him leaving me alone. “You can call me Navur.”

“Navur,” I repeat, tasting the name on my tongue for the first time. It rolls through my lips easily, like imported wine. “Okay, Navur, what are you doing here?”

“I think it’s fairly obvious,” the K says, dark eyes locked on me still. “I had you once, and found I wanted more. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find you in even the darkest corners of New York City. But it seems I’ve finally found you regardless, and here I am, ready to finish what we started.”

“We started nothing,” I say, keeping my tone as even as possible. “So there’s nothing to finish.”

“I beg to differ,” Navur insists, prodding at the limits of my temper.

“I don’t date Ks,” I say with finality, crossing my arms across my chest to punctuate the statement.

“No one dates Ks,” he clarifies with a chuckle. “I’m not offering roses and walks on the beach, Noelle.”

His fingers land on my knee and start trailing up my thigh. I glance back up at the driver but his eyes remain glued to the road. Even through my jeans, Navur’s touch burns a hot line along my skin. It’s pretty clear what he’s offering.

“I don’t want that, either,” I lie, shifting my leg away from his reach. I immediately feel cold in the absence of his touch, but this was already a lose-lose situation from the start. “Take me back to my car, please. I’m terribly late for work.”

The K contemplates my request for a moment, then nods at the chauffeur, and our aimless drive shifts back toward Broad Street.

“Alright,” Navur says, turning those hungry eyes back to me. “But I won’t be leaving town, Noelle. Not without what I came for.”

“Fine,” I snap, loosening the towel and leaving it on the seat I’m vacating. “Welcome to West Virginia, Navur. Better make yourself at home.”

I slam the door behind me, and slam the door to my own car for good measure, although the black towncar is already disappearing around the corner. At least the rain’s let up, I realize helplessly, as I start the drive back home and the reality of my situation starts to sink in.

To find out more about Submission Games, visit www.francescabaez.com!