by Sue Lyndon
He wouldn’t be able to rest until he verified her wellbeing. It was possible he’d been too rough with her, and he brought the dermal regenerator along just in case.
When he reached her cell, she wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but he soon heard the sound of running water and realized she was taking a shower. She was also singing, and her melodious voice echoed in the bathroom. He sat on her bed and waited, content to listen to the strange human song about a yellow submarine.
Freshly showered and dressed in her new clothes, Layla stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to come to terms with all that had happened today. Part of her felt detached from the reality of her time spent with General Zamek, as if it were all a dream. Surely this couldn’t be real? Surely he couldn’t have come to her cell and slept with her? Surely she couldn’t have said yes?
But the soreness between her legs told her it wasn’t a dream at all. It had actually happened. And not only the sex, but he’d held her for at least an hour afterward.
With a deep sigh, she ran her fingers through her damp hair. She didn’t have a comb, so she always had to settle for using her fingers. At least her hair wasn’t too thick and as long as she straightened it at least once a day, it didn’t become a hopeless tangled mess.
She stepped back and observed her appearance further. The clothing General Zamek had given her really did fit perfectly. With the slightly billowing sleeves and the empire cut of the gown, as well as the intricate white embroidery at the neckline, it looked like something an ancient Kall princess might’ve worn.
And he’d promised to replicate even more clothing for her. She could scarcely believe his kindness when just a few weeks ago she’d been so sure he would kill her.
In a few more weeks, they would reach planet Kall, where he would take her to his home in Sumlin District. He hadn’t told her outright that she would be a slave yet, but she could see no other alternative. Which was why the fancy dress and the promise of more didn’t quite make sense. A slave wouldn’t be given such fine items.
A disturbing thought came to her. What if he wanted to dress her up in Kall finery while she was aboard the Tammusha and he visited her regularly to satiate his desires, only to strip her of everything once they reached his planet? Maybe he would take another lover and he would no longer have need of her. She would then spend her days cleaning his house and performing other manual labor that befitted a slave on the Kall homeworld. Her heart sank at the prospect.
God how she wished she could talk to Aunt Colleen just one more time. She missed her aunt’s advice and guidance, even if she’d sometimes felt it intrusive. Aunt Colleen had always tried to protect her and had only wanted the best for her.
Tears burned in her eyes. Aunt Colleen is gone. So is everyone else I ever cared about. Even if they’re still alive, they are gone to me, because I’ll never get the chance to speak with them again. I’m alone.
She swallowed hard and wiped away a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. The uncertainty of her status with General Zamek bothered her and she decided that she would summon her bravery and ask him to clarify what would happen to her once they reached planet Kall.
She took a few deep breaths to calm herself and then exited the bathroom, only to gasp and jump in place at the sight that greeted her.
General Zamek.
He was seated on her bed. All seven-plus feet of him.
He frowned and stood up quickly, eyeing her with worry.
“You’ve been crying.” Guilt shone in his expression and he hurried toward her.
Before she could ask what he was doing, he’d already pushed her onto the bed and was trying to pull down her leggings with one hand while he held a dermal regenerator in the other. She scrambled away, pulling up on her leggings.
“Please, General, stop.” She peered from him to the dermal regenerator. “What exactly are you trying to do?” She had an idea but wasn’t entirely certain.
“I caused you pain,” he said. “I made you cry. For that, I am sincerely sorry. I know I said I wanted to fuck you raw, but it was just an… expression. Please, allow me to heal you.” He held the medical device up and gave her an expectant look.
“I’m fine, General, really.” She held her dress over her leggings, lest he get it in his mind to try removing them again. “I-I wasn’t crying because you hurt me. You didn’t hurt me.” Oh crap. Now he would probably ask why she’d been crying. She exhaled a shuddering breath.
He tucked the dermal regenerator into his pocket and scooted closer, reaching for her face. He cupped her head in both hands, his manner gentle, as he stared down at her, his eyes gleaming with compassion. When he looked at her like this, it only made her want to cry again.
Though she soaked up his every comforting touch or gentle glance like the affection-starved mess that she was, his kindness was perhaps more dangerous than his earlier potential for violence. Because when they reached planet Kall and she officially became his slave and he ignored her for another, a female of his own kind, she would endure a broken heart.
“What has saddened you, human?” he finally asked, drawing his thumbs over her cheeks in a soothing caress. “What has caused you to cry?”
She shrugged one of her shoulders. “It’s no big deal. I-I was just thinking about my Aunt Colleen. She died in the war.” She died in the war and you could’ve been the one to kill her for all I know—or one of the warriors under your command.
“How did she die? Tell me exactly what happened.”
“She lived near a military base in Virginia that was under attack by Kall forces, and she refused to evacuate. I begged her to leave. I wanted so badly to go to her and get her out myself, but I was in a bunker beneath the White House and wasn’t permitted to leave. I-I hired private security to get her out, but by the time they reached her home, it was gone, and her body was found in the rubble. The war was still raging, so the soldiers buried her in the backyard. That happened a few months before Earth even surrendered.”
He wiped at the tears that escaped her eyes, softly drawing his thumbs over the moisture. Her throat burned and clogged with emotion. It had been a long time since she’d spoken of Aunt Colleen to anyone. She’d never even mentioned her aunt to Fiona.
“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t gone to the bunker with the other White House workers and their families. Sometimes I wish I’d just fled DC that day and went straight for her house. But Michael wouldn’t let me, and President Carson also begged me to stay. Michael said we needed to be smart and trust that my aunt would follow the evacuation orders.” She shook her head and finally admitted to a dark suspicion of hers. “Michael had never liked my aunt—you see, Aunt Colleen didn’t approve of our marriage—and there are times I wondered if he was relieved that she died, times I wondered if maybe he held me back from helping her because he didn’t care what happened to her.”
General Zamek’s frown deepened. He opened his mouth and drew in a deep breath, then said, “I am sorry for the loss of your aunt, human.”
Sorry. Since he’d entered her cell, he’d already said ‘sorry’ twice. Hearing that word from him—a proud Kall warrior and a decorated general at that—was truly shocking. But his eyes glimmered with sincerity. He meant it.
“I know your parents died when you were very young and that your aunt raised you. She must have meant a lot to you.”
“What? How-how do you know that?” She stared at him in confusion.
“I read about you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then continued stroking his thumbs over her cheeks, as if waiting to catch any further tears.
“Read about me? Where? What do you mean?”
“I was curious about you, so I asked Kall security forces to compile a detailed report about you,” he replied. “I wished to know more about you, even before I’d reached a decision about what I would do with you. Even before I hurt you.”
Layla didn’t know whether to be frightened or flattered by his admission. She tried to glance do
wn, but he wouldn’t release her face. So she stared into his dark otherworldly eyes as she wondered what would come of her attraction to General Zamek.
“You said even before you’d reached a decision about what you would do with me. Does-does that mean you’ve come to a decision? I am anxious to know precisely what fate awaits me on your planet.”
“You will become my slave, Layla, though it will be in name only. On the day we arrive in Sumlin District, I will be required to take you to the slave office and have a tracker placed in your arm. Then I will take you to my home on the mountainside and keep you all to myself. As my mistress.”
Chapter 14
“Your mistress?” Layla asked. “Forgive me, General, but-but don’t you have servants? And if so, won’t they think your treatment of me strange?” She shot him an incredulous look.
Annoyance flared inside Zamek. The little human ought to be more grateful that he wasn’t planning to treat her as a true slave. Yet she questioned his decision as if she knew better than him. His palm twitched with the urge to smack her bottom.
He growled. “My servants are loyal, however their opinions are none of your concern.”
“I’m sorry but I still don’t understand. What am I supposed to do? Hang around your house all day dressed in pretty clothes while eating your food?” Color rose to her cheeks. “Then wait for you to come home and warm your bed?”
He tightened his hold on her face. “You had no problem warming my bed earlier today and you seemed appreciative of the clothing I brought you.” He glanced down at the bed on which they sat, realizing it wasn’t even his bed, but he didn’t correct his word choice.
“We shouldn’t…” Her voice trailed off and she gave him a sorrowful look. “We shouldn’t do this.” She gestured between them. “You’ll eventually take another wife, I’m sure, and I don’t want—”
He grabbed her shoulders and squeezed hard, and she stopped speaking.
“Shessema was my second wife,” he said. “Second wife.”
Her eyes grew wide and she appeared increasingly worried. Ancient gods, how he longed to wipe all worry from her mind.
“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t realize. But still, in time, I am sure you’ll wish to marry again. I-I know that you don’t have children. Merokk mentioned that to me. Surely you’ll want to settle down with a Kall female and start a family. Keeping me as your mistress is not a good idea.”
“You claim to be an expert in Kall culture, yet you actually think I’ll take another wife?” He scoffed. “Perhaps you didn’t study our superstitions well enough.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “What superstitions? You mean ancient Kall religion? I studied that a great deal actually and—oh my God.” She grew quiet for a moment and eventually gave him a sad look. “Most of your people would believe you are cursed, isn’t that correct? And most Kall fathers wouldn’t permit their daughters to marry a cursed male.”
“Exactly,” he said, and the emptiness inside him increased, opening like a great black void from which there would be no escape. Even some of his warriors and commanders gave him strange looks now and then, and he knew it was because they believed he was cursed to have lost two wives in such a short time period. He’d lost his first wife, Ghemma, only two moon cycles after they spoke their vows. She’d fallen ill just days after they got married and started fading quickly. He never even got the chance to truly know her before she died.
“So since you cannot marry again, you wish to keep me as your mistress?” Moisture shone in her eyes.
“I don’t own slaves, Layla, though most males of my station do. The practice of owning slaves has always disturbed me. Yet now I will own one—you—but I cannot stomach the idea of treating you as a slave. But owning you and registering you as a slave is the only alternative to eventually killing you, and doing so will keep the local council from questioning my actions. At least I hope it will. As you know, humans are not permitted on Kall as tourists at this moment, nor for any other reason. Every human currently on my homeworld is a slave. Well, aside from the small number of human females who are married to Kall warriors. But all others are slaves.”
She pursed her lips and appeared deep in thought, and fluxx how he wished he could read her mind at this moment. What would he do if she refused to be his mistress? What would he do if she preferred to be kept as an actual slave? Didn’t she realize he would treat her well if only she accepted his terms?
He gripped her shoulders harder. “Say something, human.” He gave her a brief shake. “Say you will agree.”
“It’s my choice?” she asked, a look of disbelief stealing over her.
Should he give her a choice? The thought of her enduring hard labor everyday alongside the paid servants who worked his vineyard put a bad taste in his mouth. And most of his servants were large males, capable of accomplishing physical tasks that Layla would likely struggle with.
“No,” he said, infusing his voice with authority. “No, it is not your choice. It is my choice, and I have already decided. You will share my bed and you will obey me, human.”
“I see,” she whispered in a tone infused with bitterness.
Frustrated by her displeased reaction, he rose to his feet and departed the brig without another word.
Fluxx, he’d had no idea human females could be so stubborn.
A day passed, and then another, and still General Zamek didn’t visit Layla. She wasn’t sure what to think. Whenever she replayed their last conversation, she was left even more confused.
They’d only slept together once, yet he wanted to keep her as his mistress. Was it because he felt something for her, or because she was his only option for female companionship? His people believed he was cursed. He would likely never manage another marriage match, no matter how wealthy he might be or how high his status as a warrior.
Nevertheless, her heart ached for him. He’d lost two wives and hadn’t had children with either of them, which meant his prospects for a family had died with Shessema. Michael had taken that away from him.
The warship gave a sudden shudder, and she jumped to her feet and peered out into the corridor. She couldn’t see much, just the clear front walls of the smaller cells. Her stomach twisted with nerves. Was there a problem with the ship?
The next shudder caused her to fall backward. She landed with a sharp thud, then scrambled to her feet and went into the bathroom. She remembered hiding in the bathroom once as a child during a tornado, Aunt Colleen holding her tight as they hid in the shower together. It likely didn’t work that way on a spaceship if the vessel was experiencing problems or was under attack, but she still felt safer in the small, enclosed space of the bathroom.
She huddled on the floor of the shower, hugging her knees to her chest, as shudder after shudder rocked the Tammusha. Despite her conflicting feelings for General Zamek, she hoped nothing bad happened to him. Worry clenched in her gut at the possibility of him getting hurt during battle… or whatever it was that was happening out there.
Her sense of isolation increased. What if this part of the warship sustained damage and she died all alone? Her throat burned. Fuck if the general’s offer to make her his mistress didn’t sound good now.
Deep down, she knew a life as his mistress would be far easier than as a slave. Yet she hadn’t readily accepted his offer. Well, not that it was even an offer. He’d become agitated by her reluctance and told her outright that his decision had been made and she would become his mistress.
This time, he wasn’t giving her a choice.
Perhaps she’d wounded his pride and that was why he was avoiding her. Two days might not seem like a lot to him, but here in the brig, where she had no one to talk to but herself, it felt like a fucking eternity.
The shudders came less and less, but she still didn’t leave her spot on the shower floor. Was the general on the bridge, assisting his warriors? Even though she knew he had duties on the warship to which he must attend during an emergency, she experienced a b
rief stab of betrayal at being left all alone to worry.
What would he do or say the next time he saw her? Would he expect to have sex, just because he’d decided she was now his mistress? Though she’d very much enjoyed the intimacies they’d shared, she was seriously starting to regret it. Maybe if she hadn’t consented to his touch, the idea of making her his mistress wouldn’t have crossed his mind.
She tried to focus on the scary times with the general, hoping to distance herself from the warmth that usually filled her when she thought of him. She replayed the horrifying moment in the courtroom when she’d been so certain he was about to kill her, followed by the time he’d swung a sword at her neck, only to stop just in time. A shiver rushed through her. And then there was the whipping, the day he’d shown up in her cell holding that leather strap.
She forced herself to remember the fear and the pain. Each brutal lash on her bare back. Each cry that escaped her lips. Each silent prayer for help that she sent up to the universe.
But, even as she tried to focus on the fear and pain, her thoughts inevitably strayed to what had come after the beating. General Zamek had ceased swinging the strap much sooner than she’d expected, and he’d also appeared remorseful, even a bit startled, as if his own actions had stunned him.
He’d brought her a blanket and pillow and even healed her back. He’d stroked her hair and sat with her for a while, his sudden gentleness soothing her.
It was difficult to reconcile his scary side with his soft side. Would the scary side ever come out again? She reminded herself that he’d promised never to beat her with an implement in the future. Would he keep this promise?
Footsteps sounded outside the bathroom and she tensed.
“Layla?” The general’s deep voice reached her.
