No sooner had Caeryssa unpacked for her two-week stay and showered the travel off her skin than her wrist pinged with her spa appointment reminder. So much for getting a nap.

She changed into a silver wrap dress, swishing her hips to feel the light fabric float around her thighs. With almost all her time spent on ships or tromping through unexplored vegetation, she rarely had the opportunity to don a dress. Bare legs were not practical exploration wear, and for respectable scientists, dresses were fashion disasters in zero gravity. Her mother had gifted her this luxury Caeryssa's last visit home, along with the spike-heeled silver shoes she slid her feet into.

With a little bounce on her toes, she turned her back on the lack of view that had deepened her annoyance when she'd arrived in her room. The damned window faced the other tower instead of the forest or sea vista she'd been promised. Thorns, she wouldn't let that sharding pretty boy spoil her vacation, her one shot at freedom in ages.

She left her room and hit the button to call the gravlift, trying not to shiver at the memory of the ride up. He'd been nearly overwhelming in that small space, standing close enough that his body heat was a line of fire behind her. Tempting. So very tempting to step back into him. She'd been unable to breathe without tasting his warm amber musk—a scent that seemed to burrow into her hindbrain. In that brief trip, she'd expended every fraction of her willpower to keep from revealing her disturbing awareness. Empty of his commanding presence and alluring fragrance, the lift felt expansive.

If that small exposure was anything to judge by, she had to avoid him. The last thing she needed was a risky fling, even if she hadn't had sex in... roots, at least six cycles. He was probably a selfish lover, anyway, too full of himself to care about a partner's needs.

"Definitely. Bad, bad idea," she muttered as she pushed through the spa's opaque doors and almost walked into a broad muscular back. His back. Because, of course it was. Choking down her curse, she swerved and managed to avoid the crash. His fault for standing in the doorway, though. Maybe if he wasn't the size of a blooming tree trunk, she'd not have had to dodge him. Why, in all the twisty branches, was he everywhere she went?

Still.

"Sorry. Excuse me," she murmured, clamping down on her annoyance and sense of smell, as she passed him and continued to the receptionist. No way did she need that delicious scent waking her sleeping libido. Quietly, she gave the woman her name and waited, breathing through her mouth, while the receptionist retrieved her appointment.

And felt his gaze roaming over her, especially her ass. Her legs flexed, and she fought the urge to fidget. She would not turn to look at him. Nope. Not going to happen. Those golden eyes were far too interesting and dangerous with everything Sigma Draconis entailed.

"Please... have a seat. We'll—uh—we'll call you as—as soon as your technician is ready," the receptionist said, sending flirtatious glances behind Caeryssa. 

Why hadn't Caeryssa asked his name? At least then, she'd be able to ping his data. Not that she was interested.

Determined to ignore him, she sat in a row of navy chairs on the far silver and white swirl-patterned wall and picked up a glossy magazine from the ice-blue glass table. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him flip through a menu of spa options, then stroll over to the receptionist and make his selections.

The woman tittered and batted her eyes, but while he flashed a smile, he didn't seem to do anything more before he joined Caeryssa, sprawling in the chair next to her and sending her pulse skyrocketing.

"We meet again, Doctor Cadwell." His smooth voice shivered down her spine like a physical stroke.

Why? Why did he have to take the seat immediately beside her? With his whole manspreading thing going on, she was trapped, trying to avoid touching him. The thinnest margin of air separated his thick, muscular leather-clad thigh and her mostly bare leg, and his body heat radiated into the intervening space like a fire warming her flesh.

Or a solar flare destroying everything it touched. She'd do well to remember he'd already caused her trouble. 

"So it would seem," she managed after she fought her breathing under control. Warmth stirred between her thighs as his scent washed over her, invading her space. Blasted berries, he smelled good.

"I was so interested in your name, I neglected to introduce myself—Sarru Zaen of Penates," he murmured.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sarru," she replied with equal formality as her mind raced. Penates wasn't within the Sigma Draconis' primary planetary clusters. Why would a prince, a sarru in the Ascendancy's formal tongue, have the tattoo if he wasn't associated with them? Was he a dragon, despite his position in the Penates royal family?

The prince was silent. Did he expect her to ask questions? Fawn over him? Yeah, so not happening. No way did she want to get pulled into the political miasma of the Ascendancy. Not even to scratch an itch with the sexiest man she'd been in touching distance in many cycles.

She sucked in another delicious scent-laden breath and fought back a shiver.

Ugh. If he hadn't been beside her, she would have thumped her head on the wall to get her blasted hormones to knock it off. As it was, she gritted her teeth and flipped through the magazine, not seeing any of it.

The lack of conversation grew awkward. Why didn't he join his friend? Expectation was almost a physical weight, pressing on her. Or... wait. Was he a telepath? He wasn't part Eridani, was he? She'd never met one of that elusive race. Their services weren't required for xenobotany, but they were much more common in politics. Her dad had mentioned encountering them a few times in the past. How would she know if the space-encroaching prince was invading her thoughts? Should she recite plant names?

"Caeryssa?"

The prince jerked in his seat as the blue-smocked woman approached and repeated Caeryssa's name.

"Yes, that's me." Caeryssa stood, practically leaping from her chair to avoid bumping the far too attractive man beside her.

The woman glanced at the prince, flushed, and then met Caeryssa's gaze. "I'm your technician." Again, her eyes were drawn to Caeryssa's burr of a neighbour. "Plea—please follow me."

The two women strode down the hall, and Caeryssa had the instinctive awareness of his eyes watching her, tension winding tighter with each step until she followed her technician into a softly lit treatment room and exhaled. Roots, it was a relief to be out of his sight and away from his overwhelming presence. An atomizer released a gentle stream of rainforest-scented mist. Strain flowed out of Caeryssa with every breath.  A massage bed dominated the small space, with a counter and a stack of white towels beside a bench covering one wall.

After a few sighs, the starstruck technician appeared to recover. "Please tie up your hair, remove everything, and slide under the sheet on the bed. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Wait... You're soulbound?" No way was Caeryssa undressing and allowing skin contact otherwise.

The woman smiled and pointed to the vine tattoo climbing one collarbone. "Yes. All spa technicians are mated as a condition of employment. Patrons wouldn't want to risk treatment if they might get accidentally linked." Without another word, she left and closed the navy wood door.

A soft instrumental melody started and Caeryssa undressed. She stared at her gloves, hesitating, but then drew them off. After all, what good would gloves do when the woman was slathering the herbal mixture on her?

With her hair clipped onto the top of her head, Caeryssa had tucked herself under the thin, smooth white sheet when the technician returned with a large wooden bowl and pestle. Words burbled from the woman's mouth, gushing about the annoyingly handsome prince as she vigorously blended an herbal mixture that smelled a bit like mint and rosemary. Caeryssa rolled her eyes. If the woman had been infatuated with his looks, she'd have understood—he was blisteringly sexy after all—but no, most of her commentary was about him being powerful and wealthy. Oh, and royalty. All reasons why Caeryssa was not interested.

Still, what was the fascination? Princes weren't that rare across the galaxy. Surely, they were relatively frequent visitors to this popular tourist planet, especially an expensive resort like this one. Maybe she'd ping his data to see why he was so blooming worthy that everyone drooled over him.

Later. If she could remember his name.

Not now.

Her eyes closed as the technician massaged the mixture into her back and the constant chatter slowed, then stopped. Her skin prickled. A bone-deep relaxation set in as her muscles loosened and each knot gave way. Caeryssa muffled a giggle and fought not to squirm as the woman dug into the arches of her feet.

"Turn over please."

Caeryssa flipped, and the technician worked her way back up with quick efficiency. Stems and leaves, she would have the smoothest, softest skin ever. Too bad she didn't have a lover to admire the result.

Sex was possible with synthate barriers to prevent skin-on-skin contact, but perilous. Synthate could tear. With the way the company and her parents kept her constantly surrounded by security, the idea of being trapped and unable to roam too far from a soulmate without dealing with separation agony was Caeryssa's definition of a nightmare. As hectic as her life was, she loved her current career spent continually on starships and expedition planets. Perhaps in a few decades, if she tired of all the travel, she'd forgo the synthate.

When it was her choice.

No rush, after all. She'd be fertile for at least another century if she wanted a family.

The technician finished and wrapped her in heated, fuzzy white towels. "Relax and sleep. I'll be back in thirty minutes to help you into the shower."

The music, warm humidity, and familiar scents lulled Caeryssa, and in no time at all, the technician returned, waking Caeryssa as the woman removed the bright blue-stained cloths.

"You had a pleasant nap?"

Caeryssa nodded as the woman helped her off the blue-smeared bed with her body's impression on the sheets in sharp contrast against the white. She grinned down at herself. The herbal mixture made it look like she'd been rolling in a blue apatite mud hole on Isaris Six. 

A panel in the wall slid open to reveal a white-tiled bathroom with a spacious glass shower. Blue and silver swirl patterns in the tile and glass, reflected in large mirrors, made the space seem expansive.

"Close your eyes and tilt your head up." 

With quick efficiency, the technician used the warm water pouring from a detachable showerhead to rinse away the herbal mixture before washing Caeryssa with a mild rain-scented bodywash. Eyes closed and enjoying the rare pampering, Caeryssa winced as the woman's massage changed from enjoyable to uncomfortable. She cracked open an eyelid to find the technician frowning as she ground at Caeryssa's calf with the cloth. Caeryssa stared, mouth gaping as she held first her hands up, then gawked down at her supposedly clean body. The herbal mixture was gone, but—

"I'm sorry. Oh stars, I'm so, so sorry! It should wear off... eventually. But I—oh shit—I must have forgotten the colour neutralizer. I'm so sorry," the woman moaned, scouring Caeryssa's now softly glowing azure skin.

Caeryssa blinked, then blinked again. What could she even say? It wasn't a bad colour. It was kinda pretty, actually—like she'd evolved into part of the planet's natural flora. She pushed away the woman's frantic scrubbing, rinsed off the bodywash, and shut off the shower.

As the technician patted her dry, the glow grew more pronounced, and Caeryssa stared in the mirror, heart thundering. Her hair and eyebrows were still the same white blond—a dramatic contrast with the blue skin that greeted her now. She could hardly believe the transformation. No hiding like she usually did in social situations. She'd stand out until this wore off. 

For at least half a star cycle, she'd be... well, blue. 

She prodded her flesh as she dressed. Hysteria bubbled, and she clamped her jaw before the wave of laughter could erupt. At least the colour went well with her clothes.

The technician returned with the spa manager, whose eyes widened. "Oh... oh, I see." She apologized numerous times as she plied Caeryssa with vouchers for additional spa treatments. In a daze, Caeryssa booked a daily massage and a mani-pedi for later in the week. Exploring new environments was hard on the nails, after all, and yelling at the spa employees wouldn't make her any less blue.

Fuck. She was blue.

Caeryssa started to tremble. First her hands, then her knees. Heat built behind her eyes and she blinked, keeping her eyes wide. She needed to get the fuck out of there so she could collapse in her room. Possibly scream a few times. 

She threw open the treatment room door and dashed down the hall, hitting full tilt into that blasted tree trunk, Prince Far-Too-Sexy, coming out of his treatment room. As she bounced off the wall of muscle before her and fought for balance, he reared back, then blurted, "Why are you glowing blue?"

Her composure cracked and with a sob escaping, she shoved past him, running for the stairs.

(2245 words)