Pressing nearer to Trey’s side, I walk with him through the bay doors and into a military checkpoint. Mounted guns on the walls raise threateningly the instant I approach the threshold to the interior. Blue pinpoints of light dot me again while flashing lights begin to whirl around as loud, terrifying sirens blare throughout the area. I freeze as an automated voice rises above the din, saying: “Unauthorized personnel present in bay Acrom, Peston, Florna-Zero, Nine, Nine, Hertza.” Trey steps in front of the blue dots, shielding me from them.
Gideon immediately barks out, “Authorize visitor.” Looking at my ashen face as the sirens cease and the guns idle again, he says, “I apologize. I should’ve alerted them to you prior to landing.”
Smiling grimly, I try to pull off a casual shrug. “I get that a lot.”
“I would wager that you do,” Gideon replies, grinning.
Frowning, Trey asks, “Are you okay?” When I nod, straightening my shoulders, he reaches out, taking my hand and holding it tight.
Ushering us through the main gate, Gideon leads us down wide hallways with illuminated floors and ceilings. Passing by bustling soldiers, I’m beginning to feel uncomfortably like a carnival sideshow freak. Everyone is giving me a second look, even the super tall, willowy females who are nearly as statuesque as their male counterparts.
Pausing at an administration desk and glancing around, I see that everything is big, not just the people. Chairs are taller and wider, tables are higher, and door latches are mounted so that I’d have to reach up to open them. Listening absently, Trey begins answering a barrage of questions put to him by the Comantre soldier in charge, as Jax stands by us filling in when asked a direct question. Wayra is lingering on my other side, staring down anyone who ventures too close to me.
Seeing that my job here is to keep my mouth shut, I study the females milling around. They look like tall, exotic birds; their limbs are exaggerated and lithe. Some have long, rust-colored hair, like Gideon, but others have hair of varying shades between light brown and tawny. No one has platinum hair like mine. Neither do they have dark hair like Wayra, Jax, and Trey. Eye color is different, too. Comantres that I can see have varying shades of green and blue eyes. No violet eyes, like us. I’m realizing that I’m like a genetic anomaly here. I’m short, blond, and violet eyed: freakish.
“Wayra…am I a freak?” I ask him softly, seeing soldiers by the far door eyeing me.
“Yes,” he answers honestly.
“What makes me a freak?” I see him smile.
“You’re different. You look like the enemy, Alameeda, but…”
“But, what?” I look up at his face.
“But, any male soldier here would have a pin-up of you in his footlocker, if he could,” he says with a cheeky grin.
“What? Why?” I feel my face go red at the thought of them hanging a picture of me in their lockers.
“You don’t know?” Wayra asks, his eyes going wide along with his grin.
“No!”
“You have dangerous curves—you are very female in all the right places, more hips, more glutes, breasts,” he rattles off, breaking down my physical attributes and making me grit my teeth. “You have a beautiful face, too. And the way you move—stealthy, like a saer, is so very polar.”
“You like my swagger?”
“You have presence—magnetism,” he looks me over from head to foot. “And that part you said on the transport…about worshipping your mate with your body…I doubt that there was a male there not jealous of Trey in that moment.”
Seeing a Comantre soldier slow down, staring at me as he’s moving past, Wayra says, “Keep walking.”
Feeling a hand on my elbow, Trey says, “We’re being detained, Kitten, until we can arrange for your identification. They’ve offered to give us space to rest and clean up.”
“Oh,” I see soldiers collecting in front of us. “That’s kind of them. I need a sho…to clean up.” I stop myself before I say, “shower” because I have no idea what cleaning up here entails.
We’re led down a labyrinth of hallways until we finally make it to a room. “This room is for the committed couple. Your men can lodge across the hall,” a soldier says, ushering Trey and me into the room. “The doors will be locked for security purposes. If you need anything, there is a com link by the door.”
“Thank you for the accommodations,” Trey replies graciously. “As soon as I can arrange for identification for my consort, I will notify you.”
“Do you need a communicator?”
“No, I have my own with me,” Trey says with a smile. The soldier nods, gesturing to Jax and Wayra to enter their room before allowing a door to drop from the ceiling, locking us in. Studying the room, it contains a bay of bunk beds that are built into the wall on one side and a small commissary and dining area is on the other side. The far wall has a window like the crossed arrow slits that I’d seen earlier.
Walking to the window, I gaze around at the world outside, feeling my heart beat wildly in my chest. We’re in a city, but it’s like no city I’ve seen on Earth. There are streets of green, made of well-manicured grass. Vehicles like hover crafts speed along the thoroughfares near the ground; some look like elongated hover cars and some look like small versions of Stealth Fighters. Glorified one-passenger vehicles that resemble motorcycles are speeding by faster than any vehicles I’m accustomed to.
Pressing my hand against the window, I see clean sidewalks of cobblestone that are alive with moss, and small, white flowers like a sprinkling of confetti, paralleling the grassy streets. Brownstone-like residences line the sidewalks with slate steps that lead up to enormous double doors. These buildings are three and four stories high. But, this is just one level of the city. Another tier is over this one, like a graduated step; it rises above the street as aircraft zip past, adhering to traffic laws that are completely unfamiliar to me.
This second level appears to be residences as well. Heliports line the front stoops of these residences. Rooftop gardens rise like lush oases on this tier, making them look enchanted and unreal. Mesh, metallic sidewalks, like catwalks, line this level and are equipped with intricate, wrought-iron railings to prevent someone from toppling over the edge accidentally.
Looking up, there are at least four more graduated tiers of buildings and traffic towering over my head. Goose bumps rise on my arms at the unfamiliarity of it. I squeak as Trey’s arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his chest. Leaning down, he nuzzles my ear while whispering in it, “We’re being monitored…you’re still my consort.”
“Where?” I ask, while turning in his arms and wrapping my hands around the back of his neck seductively.
Leaning closer to my face, his cheek brushes mine and my skin ignites. “Thermal detectors on the wall near the door.” His lips trail feather-light kisses over the column of my neck. “Audio in the vents…digital in the lights.”
“Ohhh,” I breathe, but I’m not sure if it’s in response to his kisses or to what he just said. “What should we do?”
“We might need to sell it a bit more. I think they’re having a problem believing our match…” he murmurs, between kisses as he’s working his way over the contour of my cheek.