Free The Pearl (Galactic Jewels Book 1) by Jen Greyson Page A

with that mess later and figure out how to make sure I wasn’t the samarian fulfilling that part. My obligation to the Samarians was this presentation. There’d be no phoning it in though, not only did she have to hear me out, she had to pick me over the hundreds of other representatives who’d trained for this practically since birth.
    If not, the deal was off.
    I’d been confident that getting a woman to fall for me wouldn’t be a challenge. I mean, come on, it never had been. Women were easy to woo. I studied her, the perfect updo, the overdone makeup, the constricting clothes, all done to create a mesmerizing, calculated image of a woman meant to rule over one and all, not a single thing overlooked.  
    Except me.
    I set the glass down gently and adjusted my tie.
    She and I had to get through this presentation, then she’d pick Samaria as her champion and we’d both free of our obligations, leaving her to get on with her pearling.
    First, I had serious repair work to do. I’d already pushed her too far with the wrong methods and she was ready to bolt. When she’d been down for drinking, I’d treated her like a Tyrillian, luring her in with an aggressive approach, which had been stupid. Now I was drilling myself one hell of a black hole and I had to fix this, fast. Luckily, she reminded me of Canna and the best way to get Canna to dig in her heels and stick around was to piss her off so she pushed back.
    I clenched my teeth and readied myself for the onslaught of what I was about to incite, hoping I'd read her right and that she was a fiery spirit like Canna. If not, I was signing my own slave warrant. “What’s the matter, am I too plain? Too human for you? Not enough tentacles?”

C HAPTER 11

    “G ET OUT .” I stiffened, mortified at my sudden outburst that mimicked his. He was drunk and talking nonsense. That was a downfall of the Zyldish fare—and why I never had more than two glasses. Air mixtures factored into the alcohol content of the whisky, too, but I’d never had so violent a reaction.
    “If it bothers you so much, don’t think of me as human, Honey.” He winked. “Think of me as a Samarian.”
    I frowned and checked the mostly full bottle of whisky. Clearly his tolerance was much lower than mine. “What is wrong with you?” Why was he saying such nonsense?
    “Not a thing.” He poured himself another glass.
    I’d have taken the bottle but getting closer to him held zero appeal, especially with this wild attitude shift. Thankfully, the presentation hadn’t started, so I didn’t have to put up with his crudeness like I would have if he’d been a proper candidate. Dirk was just a male, one of no consequence to me. If they were already taping, our interactions would be deleted before this evening’s official documentation was reviewed and shipped to the galaxies. I wasn’t about to take his attitude for one more second; I’d barely held it together this long and had made an awful showing of my training.
    “Is that a line, then? Is this the famous Dirk Battleship persona we've all heard so much about? Too late, I have a real Samarian coming.” I wanted him gone. I put my hands on his shoulders, spun him around, and shoved him toward the door, doing my best to ignore the tingles shooting up my arms from having to touch his hard bunches of muscles. “Hope you have autopilot on that ship,” I grumbled, hurrying him toward the transporter. He could sleep this off on his ship while I had a nice date and went back to my life, never to see him again.
    He twisted away from me and crossed his arms, a frown pinching his too-human eyebrows together. “I am human and a Samarian.”
    “Hate to tell you, but human isn’t a braggable attribute, even if you were telling the truth, which you’re not.”
    He wagged his eyebrows and flexed his bulging arms like that was some sort of appeal. I snorted. “Do not tell me that line actually works. Does it? That's the part that brings all the