Page 17 of Braax's Bride
“I think I would like to meet thisGreysonsome day.”
Sofia let out a nervous chuckle, surprised by his response.
“And why is that?”
“I would like to teach him the proper way to treat a wife,” he said, his scowl curling into a wicked grin. “AndI would like to bite his head off.”
Now she laughed in earnest, the image of her ex-husband headless pleasing her more than it should have. Hypothetically, of course.
Braax pressed a kiss to her lips, never releasing his grip as she sunk further into his embrace. Perhaps it was nice to have a small weight lifted from her, though Sofia still kept her cloud firmly in place, guarding her even as her husband held her.
“I have a surprise for you tonight,” Braax said, as they ate dinner at the kitchen table one evening.
Sofia quirked a brow, recalling the lastsurprise, the one where he tied her to their bed and pleasured her until she couldn’t remember her own name. Her expression must have told him all he needed to know, because he chuckled.
“Not that kind of surprise, naughty wife, though something along those lines can be arranged. But only after.”
They finished their meal quickly, her mind racing with the possibilities of what asurprisecould entail. A sudden jolt of panic shot through her, wondering if he was taking her to meet his family today. But no, he wouldn’t spring something like that on her without telling her first.
With their dishes put away, he escorted her to the hovercar, a fanged grin alighting his face. It was contagious; her smile beaming through the window as the suns set in the distance.
They headed back into the city, amorphous sky scrapers swelling until they towered over the hovercars gliding between them. No matter how many times she asked, Braax refused to tell her where they were going, which was both frustrating and endearing.
Eventually, he found a place to park, and they set off down the elevated sidewalk.
The noises of the city surrounded them, ones that Sofia had once been so used to that now seemed like a strange cacophony. Hovercars honking, a siren ringing in the distance, the ambient buzz of the millions who called the city home. Orbed lights blinked on as darkness washed over the streets.
“Here we are,” Braax said as he came to a stop outside a sleek shop.
The sign above readEvelyn’s Odyssey Art Space.
A gallery. Sofia’s heart raced, memories of her life on Earth flooding her as she peered through the brightly lit windows. He gave her hand a squeeze, a gentle smile on his face.
“I thought you might enjoy the exhibit. I know you worked at a place like this, yes?”
She nodded, her mouth dry as he escorted her into the gallery. She had spent countless hours atNexus Galleryon Earth, commissions from her own art not enough to survive the increasing rent prices. It wasn’t a job she’d disliked, but she much preferred working on her own projects than dealing with ritzy customers.
Instrumental music filled the small space, hums and buzzes which tingled Sofia’s skin like someone was whispering in her ear, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. The walls were blank, the current exhibit a series of sculptures set on white pillars that dotted the central area.
As they walked towards one of them, the green amorphous blob hovering atop it shifted, morphing into a solid ball with rippling rings surrounding it. There was a glint of shine to the piece, like it was made of some sort of liquid metal, and the way the blob coiled and morphed left her in awe.
They moved about the gallery silently, Sofia examining each piece, noting the colors and forms.
A voice echoed through the space, taking her attention away from the purple blob swirling in front of her.
“Sculptures of Sentience. The material is a living metal which responds to the emotions of the viewers, shifting to reflect the collective mood of its audience.”
A woman made her way over to them, black heels clicking against the tiled floor. Ahumanwoman. It was the first she had seen on the planet, and her mouth gaped. The woman was lovely, with long, dark hair, a perfectly made-up face, and a sleek black dress.
She walked right up, hand outstretched, a manicured smile on her face.
“Evelyn Graham. I own the gallery. And you must be Sofia. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Sofia took her hand, eyeing Braax warily.
“Braax has told me all about you. You paint, yes? I’m always looking for new artists to exhibit, in both traditional and experimental mediums. I’d love to check out some of your work sometime, see if we can set up a future exhibition. The next few months are already booked, but I have an open schedule starting this spring.”
Sofia understood all the words this woman was saying, but comprehension still evaded her. What did Evelyn mean? Looking for new artists? Future exhibition?