Page 7

CHAPTER 7

CLARICE

S imon gestures to the couch in the lounge area, his human disguise flickering out like a dying lightbulb. His true form emerges—deep indigo scales, crimson eyes, the kind of raw power that makes my stomach flip. “Sit,” he says, his voice low but firm.

I hover for a moment, my brain caught between two thoughts: Does he want to talk, or does he want to pull me into his lap? And the more dangerous question: Which do I want?

I sit, my skirt riding up slightly as I perch on the edge of the couch. Simon settles beside me, his massive frame taking up most of the space. His tail—no, wait, Vakutans don’t have tails. His thigh brushes against mine, and I can feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’ve seen me,” he begins, his voice gravelly. “My true form. That means I have to explain some things. Things that could get me—and you—killed if the wrong people find out.”

I nod, trying to keep my breathing steady. My hands are clenched in my lap, my nails digging into my palms. “I’m listening.”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “We’re not just displaced in space, Claire. We’re displaced in time. My people, the Vakutans, we’re from the future. A future where the galaxy is at war. A war that’s lasted centuries.”

I swallow hard. “A war? With who?”

“The Ataxian Coalition,” he says, the words sharp, like they leave a bad taste in his mouth. “Religious zealots. Fanatics. They believe their way is the only way, and they’ll burn entire worlds to prove it. The Grolgath, the lizard-like creatures you probably saw in my file, are their foot soldiers.”

I blink, trying to process this. “And… you? Where do you fit into this?”

“We’re with the Trident Alliance,” he says, his voice tinged with pride. “We fight to keep the galaxy free. But during a battle with the Grolgath, something went wrong. A thousand of us, and an unknown number of them, got thrown back in time. To here. To now.”

“The nineties,” I whisper. “So all of this—you, the Grolgath—you’re stuck here?”

He nods. “The Grolgath want to change humanity’s future. They want Earth to side with the Ataxians, not the Alliance. And if they succeed, the galaxy burns. So we fight them. In secret. To protect your timeline.”

I sit back, my mind reeling. Aliens. Time travel. Galactic wars. It’s like something out of a sci-fi movie, but the weight of his words feels too real to dismiss. My gaze shifts to his scales, the way they catch the light, the faint shimmer of indigo. He’s telling the truth. I can feel it in my bones.

“So,” I say slowly, “you’re the good guys.”

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that sends shivers down my spine. “We like to think so. But I suppose that’s subjective.”

I chew on my lower lip, a nervous habit I’ve never been able to break. “Simon—Shomun—whatever your name is. I believe you. But… no one thinks of themselves as the villain. How do I know you’re not just manipulating me? That you’re not using me to further some agenda I don’t understand?”

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think I’ve pushed too far. But then he leans back, his gaze never leaving mine. “Fair question,” he says, his tone softer than I expect. “But I’m not here to manipulate you, Claire. I’m here to protect you. All of you. And right now, that means trusting me. Even if it’s hard.”

I look at him, really look at him. His scales, his eyes, the way he carries himself like a predator at ease. He’s dangerous. He’s terrifying. And yet, I feel safer with him than I have with anyone else in my life.

“Okay,” I say finally. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

His eyebrow arches. “And what’s that?”

“No more secrets. If I’m going to trust you, I need to know everything.”

He studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Deal.”

Simon shifts in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. His human disguise flickers for a moment, revealing the faintest shimmer of indigo scales before it stabilizes again. “My corporation,” he begins, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, “isn’t just about profit. It’s a front. The money funds Veritas, Project Veritas. It’s how we fight the Grolgath here, in your time.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “So, the billionaire playboy act—it’s just a cover?”

He smirks, a flash of sharp teeth behind his human veneer. “A necessary one. I used to fight on the battlefield. Bombs, plasma rifles, starship skirmishes. Now, I fight in the boardroom. Briefcases instead of bombs. Not as glamorous, but just as crucial. The business has to be a success, Claire. The fate of humanity depends on it.”

I lean forward, my elbows resting on the edge of his desk. “Okay, I get that. It’s big. It’s important. But what about me? Am I in danger just by working for you?”

His expression darkens, and for the first time, I see a flicker of hesitation in his crimson eyes. “Yes,” he admits, his voice rough. “The Grolgath are ruthless. They won’t hesitate to use you if they think you know something. If they suspect you’re connected to Veritas, your life could be at risk.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “So, what are my options?”

“You can walk away,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “If you do, I’ll release you from your contract. But you must promise—on your life—never to reveal what you’ve learned. Not to anyone.”

I glance down at my hands, the contract still fresh in my mind. Walking away would mean quitting both Simon’s employ and Silas’s spy mission. It would mean leaving behind the strange, exhilarating pull Simon has on me. The way he makes me feel seen, understood, even when he’s barking orders at me.

And then there’s the curiosity. Aliens. Time travel. A secret war. How could I walk away from that? How could I go back to pretending like none of this exists?

“I’m staying,” I say, my voice firm. “I want to keep working for you.”

Simon’s eyes widen, just for a moment, before he schools his expression back into its usual stern mask. But I catch it—the flicker of satisfaction, maybe even relief. He leans forward, his massive frame dwarfing the desk between us. “Very well. But understand this: nothing about me being an alien changes the terms of your contract. You still belong to me. You will still do what I say, when I say it. No excuses.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “I will obey.”

I see the way his fingers tighten on the edge of the desk. He’s trying to keep his composure, but I’ve already learned how to read him. That simple phrase, those three words, they get under his scales. And it thrills me to know I have that power over him, even as he holds so much over me.

“Good,” he says finally, his voice low and gravelly. “Now, back to work. We’ve got a meeting in ten minutes, and I expect you to be prepared.”

I stand, smoothing down my skirt. “Yes, Sir.”

He doesn’t respond, but I catch the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes linger on me for just a moment too long. I’ve got him. And he’s got me. It’s a dangerous game, but I’m already in too deep to walk away.

I’m at the printer, the rhythmic hum of the machine almost hypnotic as it spits out the last of the reports for the meeting. My hands are steady, but my mind is anything but. Aliens. Time travel. A galactic war. And Simon—Shomun. His scales, his eyes, the way he’d looked at me when he caught me peeking in the bathroom. I’m not sure what’s more surreal: the fact that he’s an alien, or the fact that I’m attracted to him. To it . To him .

The printer finishes with a final whir, and I gather the warm sheets of paper, stacking them neatly. My skirt brushes against my thighs as I turn, and I can’t help but think of the way Shomun’s hand had felt on my leg during that thorough search. I swallow hard, my cheeks flushing.

I hear the heavy tread of his footsteps behind me before I see him. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. The air shifts when he’s near, like the calm before a storm.

“The reports,” I say, holding them out without looking at him. My voice is steady, but my hand isn’t.

He takes them, his fingers brushing mine, and I bite my lip to keep from reacting. “Good,” he says. “You’re efficient. I like that.”

I finally risk a glance up at him. His human disguise is flawless today, not a hint of indigo peeking through. But I know it’s there, just beneath the surface. I wonder if he’s thinking about it too—about what happened earlier. About the way I’d said I will obey , the way he’d touched me, the way I’d?—

“Claire,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. His tone is sharp, but there’s something else there. Something that makes my stomach flip. “Focus. The meeting starts in five minutes.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say automatically, the words slipping out before I can stop them. His jaw tightens, and I see the way his eyes darken, just for a moment. He likes it when I call him that. I know he does.

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “This meeting is with a potential investor. He’s human, but he’s… questionable. I need you to observe. Watch for tells. I’ll handle the rest.”

I nod, clutching the edge of the printer for support. “Understood.”

He doesn’t move. “Claire,” he says, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “About earlier…”

My breath catches. Here it is. Finally. I look up at him, my heart pounding. “Yes?”

He hesitates, his gaze searching mine. Then he shakes his head, the moment passing as quickly as it came. “Never mind. To the conference room. Now.”

I exhale, disappointment and relief warring inside me. “Yes, Sir.”

As I follow him down the hall, I can’t help but wonder if he’s as shaken as I am. If the thought of me—of us—is as impossible and tantalizing to him as it is to me. But I don’t ask. I just walk, my heels clicking against the polished floor, and try to ignore the heat that’s already pooling low in my belly.