Page 20 of Aliens Love Curves

"Beautifully put," Harlan interjects smoothly. The music has shifted to something slow and intimate, strings and wind instruments weaving together in an age-old invitation to dance. "Speaking of partnerships... would you honour me with a dance?"

My tail goes rigid as Casey accepts, allowing Harlan to guide her onto the dance floor. His hand settles possessively on her waist, the other clasping hers as they begin to move. The silver fabric of her dress catches the light, creating an ethereal effect that draws every eye in the room—including mine. I have to consciously relax my clenched fists, and I quickly glance around to see if anyone saw them.

Focus on the mission, I remind myself. I force myself to focus on the shareholders, who have clustered near a crystalline pillar.Their voices carry in the ambient noise just enough for me to catch fragments of conversation.

"Remarkable young woman," one says. "Her technique is unconventional, but that might be exactly what we need."

"Her unconventional approach could be exactly what we need."

"Agreed. The publicity alone would be worth it – a human champion in our prototype."

I edge closer, pretending to examine a hovering ice sculpture. On the dance floor, Harlan pulls Casey closer, whispering something that makes her laugh. My claws flex involuntarily.

"What about the containment issues?" one shareholder asks in a lower tone. "After the last breach—"

"The new shielding is holding," another cuts in. "The latest batch of containers—"

"Not here," a third shareholder hisses. "The walls have ears."

On the dance floor, Harlan holds Casey closer than strictly necessary. My blood simmers as I watch his hands slide lower on her back, landing on the top of her rounded ass. My fists clench again, and before I can think better of it, I'm striding across the floor.

I stab him in the shoulder with my finger. "May I cut in?"

Both Casey and Harlan look startled by my interruption. A flash of annoyance crosses Harlan's perfect features and his nostrils flare, and for a moment, I think Harlan will refuse, before his diplomatic mask slides back into place and his perfect manners win out.

"Of course," he says smoothly, though his eyes flash with annoyance, holding a warning. "I should check on our other guests anyway."

Casey steps into my arms, her body tense. "What are you doing?" she whispers furiously, though she maintains a pleasantexpression for our audience, there’s a note of anger in her voice. "That was completely—"

" I just overheard the shareholders. They approved you for the race," I murmur, leading her in a smooth turn that takes us further from prying ears. Her face lights up and she instantly relaxes in my arms. "But there's more. They mentioned something about containment issues and shielded containers. Something they didn't want overheard.”

Under the pretense of a complex dance move, she presses closer. All traces of her anger fades, replaced by keen interest. The scent of her perfume fills my senses, bringing back memories of the gardens. Her hand feels small in mine, but strong, capable. We move together with an ease that makes my chest ache. "Tell me everything."

"They seemed worried," I continue, fighting to stay focused. "Something about a breach—"

"Mind if I reclaim my partner?" Before I can elaborate, Harlan's voice cuts through our conversation like a blade. He's returned with impeccable timing, his smile never reaching his eyes. "There are some other people eager to meet our potential champion."

I have no choice but to step back, watching as Harlan whisks Casey away. She glances over her shoulder at me, questions evident in her eyes, but allows herself to be led into the crowd.

For the next hour, I watch from the periphery as Harlan parades Casey from group to group. She plays her role perfectly – charming potential sponsors, engaging in technical discussions with engineers, laughing at the right moments. But I notice the small tells others might miss—how she creates subtle distance when Harlan stands too close, the way her eyes seek me out periodically, the slight tension in her shoulders when Harlan's hand lingers too long.

Or perhaps that's just what I want to see.

The evening air calls to me, and I find myself on one of the exterior balconies, letting the cool air calm my jangled nerves. Out here, the sounds of the ball fade to a distant hum, replaced by the soft whisper of Ova's wind. The planet's three moons cast shifting shadows across the floating platforms below, their light painting the clouds in shades of silver and gold.

The sound of laughter draws my attention back to the ballroom. Through the crystal walls, I see Casey surrounded by admirers as she works the room. Her dress catches the light as she moves, creating an effect like captured starlight—she's radiant, her smile dazzling. Harlan remains a constant presence at her side, touching her arm, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. Each gesture feeds a growing knot of tension in my chest.

My tail curls inward – a gesture of discomfort I haven't made since my academy days. Watching her with Harlan stirs something primal in me, and the urge to stride in there, to claim her attention, to make it clear to everyone that she's... what? My partner? My temptation? My impossible desire?

But I can't. We're undercover. The kiss in the gardens changed everything and nothing. Casey is still my partner, still our best chance at uncovering whatever Quickening Gliders is hiding. And I still want her in ways that compromise our mission and my judgment. Whatever tension crackles between us, has to take a backseat to the mission.

A burst of laughter draws my attention. Casey’s head is thrown back in genuine amusement. I watch Harlan lean in closer to whisper something that makes Casey laugh again. I can't quite suppress the growl that rumbles in my chest. The line of her throat, the curve of her smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners – every detail sears itself into my memory.

The night air carries the scent of her perfume from our brief dance – a haunting reminder of how perfectly she fit in my arms. The memory of the gardens surfaces again: her soft gasp as Ikissed her, the way her curves pressed against me, the look in her eyes when we parted...

"Credit for your thoughts?"

Her voice startles me. I hadn't heard her approach – a testament to how lost I was in my observations. She stands in the doorway, the ballroom lights creating a halo effect around her form.