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We were only in the narrow hallway a moment before it opened up into a domed kitchen. Shelves upon shelves lined one curved wall, full of jars and supplies. I squinted at the row in the middle dedicated to pickles from worlds beyond this one—the edible ones, not the self-pleasuring kind. Maroon, mustard, teal, and lime green…pickles of every color were jarred and wrapped in labels from other systems. This guy appeared to be a true alien pickle aficionado.

“So, what do I call you?” I asked, jogging to catch up where he’d crossed into another curved tunnel. “Khor? Mr. Drath? KD?”

He stopped suddenly and glanced over his shoulder. I sucked in a sharp breath at the way his eyes shone like beacons in the dim light, then nearly ran into him because my feet kept moving.

“My name is Khor Drath.”

Right. Okay.Not one for informality, then.

This close, I craned my neck to meet his gaze. The body heat he exuded warmed my already flushed skin. Even in this darkened space, his nebulous skin pulsed with color. The moment stretched, affecting my body like I floated weightless in space while staring into the depths of a binary star system surrounded by the beauty of nebulae. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all melted away.

He turned and strode toward the opposite end of the corridor, the abrupt movement jarring after I’d felt so adrift.

I put some pep in my step to catch up, pulled deeper into another narrow and dark corridor. “Can you tell me more about this process?” I asked when there were only a few feet between us, my voice echoing off the curved walls.

“First we’ll give you a scan, make sure you’re healthy.” His words traveled back to me. “I’ll show you the contract, see if you have any questions, then go from there.”

Khor Drath led me into a domed-shaped lab and my nerves reawakened in my stomach. The room smelled sterile, like he cleaned it on the regular with antiseptic-type soap. Curved work surfaces extended from the doorway in opposite directions. Monitors, terminals, and all sorts of technical equipment I’d never seen before filled the rear wall and a desk-like workstation. Wires, so many wires it looked like they exploded from them, reached toward the ceiling then cascaded down into the middle of the room.

One chair, covered in plush ekku leather, took up the center of the room as if on a stage. Though wider and taller than a dentist’s chair, the way it eased back at an angle reminded me of one, or the gaming lounger we bought for our apartment on Earth.

Our apartment.

Fuck, Jordan. I’d successfully not thought about him for a few minutes while wrapped in the amazingness that was Khor Drath, and it soured my mood to think of him now. Not like I’d been in a stellar mood right before the thought—more of a half terrified, half horny state which I was trying to mentally accept and move on from, but still. Definitely didn’t want the cheating, backstabbing bastard on my mind. Not when I had Space Daddy getting comfortable on a stool behind one of the biggest monitors.

I’d frozen by the door to take in the room, but hopped forward when he gestured to the stool near him at the end of the curved table. A swallow lodged itself in my throat as I passed a multitude of instruments: a scanner, a prober, and an old-style tool that resembled calipers. And another jar of pickles, half full and bright pink, hailing from the Anitih sector from the writing on its label.

The man likes his snacks.

I settled on the stool and examined everything from Khor Drath’s angle. Three of his monitors revealed views of the room, recording the chair at different angles. Alien code scrolled along the others, or at least what looked like code. Three of the screens were blank.

“How does this work, exactly?” I asked, eying the hanging wires in the center of the room with a healthy dose of distrust.

Instead of answering, he picked up a medical wand from beside one of his monitors and aimed it at my head.

“Hey!” I swatted it away.

He frowned at me before bringing the scanner back between us. “Need to make sure you’re healthy enough for the process.” He waggled the rod. “Are you afraid of a little scan?”

I swallowed at the question. No, I wasn’t afraid of a medical scan, but it didn’t stop the nerves in my stomach from surging into my chest. “I’m only sleeping, right? Why would that matter? It’s not like my dreams are dangerous on any other regular night.”

He shrugged his wide, purple-blue shoulders and turned on the scanner. “I strive to anticipate every potential situation.” His voice rumbled through me, making me squirm. “Haven’t lost a client yet.”

The rod hummed over my head and around my shoulders and I had the urge to swat at it again to see what he would do. “Why would you say that? Why would it even be a possibility?” This stupid idea was getting stupider by the second. I didn’t have “Death by dream machine” on my bingo card for this year.

Fuck that. I didn’t have “get dumped by my boyfriend for a hotter alien” on my bingo card either.

“A precaution only.” He finished his scan and set the rod on the counter beside me. “I keep some of your awareness synapses conscious. The experience is closer to a lucid dream, meaning you can control what you experience if you like.”

I pressed my thighs together in an attempt to ward off the way his words stroked me.

“Certain kinds of dreams sell better than others, so you can guide yourself through scenarios if you want one more than another.”

I hated to ask… “What sells?” If I was going to do this, I might as well get top dollar. What had Heinrick said? Enough for ten interstellar tours?

Khor Drath’s brow ridge quirked. “Top two sellers are sex and fear.”

My heart rate kicked up again. Heinrick had said as much. I’d never been into horror movies. They scared me too much, felt too real. Nightmares weren’t my entertainment, even if they gave Rojabians their kicks, and I couldn’t see guiding myself into one just because.