by Alana Khan
My kisses command his full attention. My warm breath and tongue on his ear make him moan. Touching his nipples elicits quick, shallow pants. When first my hand and then my tongue explore his balls, he comes with a long, rolling explosion of release.
“Sweet Tawny,” he tells me with a close-lipped smile as we lay together after, both still panting with exertion. “Miracle. What a miracle we survived Emirus, that I finally believe you don’t have that syndrome. I can let all your warm, caring feelings roll over me and begin to fill the broken places, and I can show you the emotions I’ve been keeping hidden.”
He pulls me closer and pets my hair. I love this feeling. I think I love him. But it’s too soon. I’ll take this one step at a time. He’s right. It is a miracle. His emotions finally caught up with mine.
Chapter Eleven
Tawny
I wake up realizing all I had to eat was two bars since we left for Paradise yesterday morning. I’m going to have to make up a different name for that freaking planet. We made up the name Paradise; it wasn’t on the star charts. I think from here on out I’m going to call it Hell.
I pull on a huge pair of work overalls I found in the dresser. With four women on board, our need for clothes will fast approach DEFCON Four unless there’s a storage bin of fancy panties somewhere in Thantose’s hold.
I wander to the kitchen and find Destin cooking sumra for the three women.
“Good morning,” I greet everyone.
Destin offers me some tea, and I join the women at the table.
“We hardly introduced ourselves yesterday. I’m Tawny, from Boston by way of shithole planet Emirus.”
“Carrie.” The fortyish blond with shoulder-length hair smiles and nods. “From L.A. by way of a different shithole planet.”
“Lexa, from Philly. Recently abducted. Went straight to the planet you rescued us from.” She’s short with brown hair that trails to where a bra strap would be if she had one.
We all look at the redhead, waiting. “Oh, um Brin.” She smiles but doesn’t give eye contact. It’s hard not to stare at her—she’s beautiful. Not just attractive or pretty, but movie star beautiful. She’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever been in the same room with. Her lips are delicate pink and perfectly bow-shaped. Her striking green eyes compliment her flaming red hair. She would turn heads anywhere, on any planet.
“Brin’s not much of a talker,” Lexa announces. “She’s from Michigan and says she was twelve when she was abducted. What I don’t get is that she says she doesn’t even know how long ago that was.” She does a skeptical mini-eyeroll.
“So, how old are you now, Brin?” Lexa persists.
“I don’t know.” Brin’s smile faded long ago, and her discomfort is palpable. She’s repeatedly wetting her lips and swallowing.
“We’ve all been through a lot,” I interrupt the inquisition. “Brin, you can tell us later...if you want.” I reflect on how much I had to endure over the last three years. If Brin was abducted at age twelve, she’s probably been in captivity for at least a decade.
“Surely you at least know how long you’ve been away from Earth.” Lexa is relentless. From what they said yesterday, they were in that cell for less than two weeks. Lexa went there straight from Earth. Perhaps she has no idea what terror might right this minute be replaying behind Brin’s eyes.
Speaking of eyes, Brin’s are full of tears. I pull my seat closer and gently grab her hand. “We can talk about this later.” I spear Lexa with a shut-the-fuck-up look. “What matters is you’re safe now.” Brin gives me a tiny moment of eye contact, relief obvious on her face.
Destin interrupts with a steaming bowl of sumra and the intergalactic version of a spork for each of us. “Do you need anything else? If not, I have work to do in the food hold.” He wipes his palms nervously on his pants. I wonder if he’s been in space a long time without much female companionship.
“Thanks so much, Destin. That was kind of you.”
We eat our breakfast as quietly as is possible when four people are slurping noodles into their faces with a spork. The silence is awkward.
Carrie looks at Brin with concern. “We’ve all been through a lot. I’m here to talk if you want.”
“Me, too,” I add.
“It’s just...yeah, I’ve been through a lot. I just don’t know why he sold me.”
All right, Brin’s talking, that’s a good sign. I think she’ll do better if we just listen. I give Lexa a quelling look, hoping she doesn’t start cross-examining her again.
Sounds of slurping.
Brin has tears rolling down her face. Maybe we do need to ask her questions.
“Who?” I prod gently.
“Things were really bad for a long time. Like really, really, bad.” The floodgates have opened and now her words are spilling out. “I was hurt in a lot of ways. And then a male named Amrus bought me. It was hard at first. He was…perfectionistic and demanding. He taught me exactly how to do everything he wanted. When I finally learned how to please him perfectly, the pain stopped.” She strokes her neck, then places her hand into her lap.
“I thought I was safe. I worked very hard to please my master. And then he tired of me. He called for my services less often and finally sent me to auction. What did I do wrong?”
Her hands clench at her sides as she rolls her eyes to mine in anguish. “I just don’t understand what I did to displease him.”
Am I reading too much into this, or is she describing her life as a sex slave?
“Are you talking about pleasing him sexually?” Leave it to Lexa to come right out and ask.
“Well, please him sexually yes. Please him in every way. He taught me how to walk in a graceful manner, how to prepare his favorite foods, how to dress. He expected me to tolerate various positions, how not to make noise when he hurt me, how to satisfy his friends. He was very firm.”
She looks at us for the first time and must see the look of disgust and shock written on our faces.
“Firm, but fair,” she amends in his defense. “Always fair. He never punished me unless I deserved it.” Her face relaxes as if she just explained everything satisfactorily.
I clamp my teeth together. Partly because this is triggering me, partly because I’m dying to ask her questions and I know that won’t be helpful.
“What did you do to deserve it?” Lexa asks.
I’m beginning to really dislike her. She has no boundaries.
“Oh, when he was first training me it was big things I hadn’t learned properly, like the positions he wanted me to sit in, or how to transition from sitting to standing in a polished way. Later, I was much more skilled, so the punishments were less frequent. Usually they were…” Her porcelain skin pinkens. “When I made a noise when it was forbidden, or when I wasn’t eager to do a particular…”
Her gaze falls to her lap, and it’s clear to me she’s having a flashback. I gently grasp her hand, hoping to bring her back to the present.
“Those days are over, sweetie. You’ll never see him again.” On the outside, I’m calm and supportive. Inside, though, my inner drill sergeant is commanding me not to play the movie inside my head of similar things the emperor did to me.
Big fat tears are quietly rolling down her cheeks. “I know,” her voice is dripping with anguish. “I don’t understand why he tired of me. I’ll never see him again.”
Oh crap. I thought Stockholm Syndrome was bullshit. It’s real. I’m looking at it. She really did bond with her abuser.
Carrie and I exchange compassionate glances, shaking our heads a little. I have no idea how to deal with this.
“I was a few days away from getting my doctorate in psychology, and I think you have Stockholm Syndrome,” Lexa announces. “You both do.” She looks at me.
“What are you talking about?” I’ve said all of two words to this bitch. WTF?
“I heard two of the guys talking last night after you left. They said you were imprisoned for three years with that male yo
u were cuddling with.”
“Yes. What don’t you understand about both imprisoned?”
“Are you saying he never hurt you?”
Shit. How does she know? I want to shut down this line of questioning, but I don’t know what to say.
“Are you saying that deformed devil never hurt you?” She’s relentless!
I want to reach across the table and squeeze her throat until she turns blue. Instead, I’m watching a rolling loop of horrible flashbacks. Devi hitting me, calling me names, using a whip. Shit, I thought I’d pushed all that into the recesses of my mind.
I know good and well that he never did that of his own free will. But there is another part of me that associates him with all that pain. How do I compartmentalize all that?
My breath huffs out of me all at once as my shoulders slump. I close my eyes, but that doesn’t stop the tears from spilling out from under my lids. Hot, anguished tears. I have to accept that although part of my mind understands he did all of that under the threat of death, there is another part of my mind that can’t separate the act from the actor.
There’s a little girl inside me who fears that big red-and-black male. I didn’t want to admit it, but sometimes when he moves his hands in a certain way or uses a specific tone of voice, or I catch him out of the corner of my eye in a particular light—sometimes I want to flinch.
I push it down and move on with what I’m doing, but for a moment my system is paralyzed in fear. It really doesn’t matter what my rational mind thinks, what matters is that at times like that my emotional mind is back in that dungeon with all the pain Devi inflicted—my Devi.
Fuck. That bitch is right. I have Stockholm Syndrome.
I’m frozen in my chair. I frankly don’t give a shit about Brin right now. My jaw is tight and my face is hot as I focus on me.
I love Dev. I figured that out this morning. But it must be that fucking syndrome I keep insisting I don’t have.
“Fuck you, Lexa.” I say softly, with as much dignity as I can muster. I rise from my chair, back straight, quivering chin held high in false bravado, and exit the room. I can’t even blame this on Lexa. Right now, this minute, I have to admit the truth to myself.
Where to? Where to go? It’s a small ship, and I can’t go back to my room. Don’t want to run into Dev. The cargo hold. It’s quiet in there except for the steady, reassuring drone of the engines. I like the smell of antiquity that permeates the room. There was a chaise lounge in the corner. I could move the figurines it was littered with and lie down and go to sleep. I can’t think. I don’t want to think right now.
Devolose
I haven’t slept that long since I was back on Primus. My muscles feel relaxed. So does my mind. It’s like everything has slowed down, and I have perfect clarity for the first time in ages.
I’ve been trying to repress my feelings for Tawny for annums. First, because we were captives in a dungeon and any expression of concern for each other would have resulted in immediate punishment or death—for both of us. Then as soon as we were in the relative safety of the Leaf on the Wind, I realized she could never truly care for me—if she did, it would be the result of that syndrome.
But I don’t believe that anymore. I know she cares for me. What happened in this bed last night proves that, the look in her eyes proves that.
I enter the shower on a cloud of excitement and hope—the first I’ve experienced in a long time. I’ve quit denying my feelings for her. I’m going to stop pushing her away. If there was anything positive to come out of yesterday, it proved that life is short. Today, I’m going to find the perfect time to tell her how deeply I care for her.
The moment I enter the kitchen to grab some food I know something is terribly wrong. The three females are there, none will give me eye contact. I have that feeling you get when you walk into a room where everyone is talking about you. The shortest one gives me an angry stare, then doesn’t take her eyes from me, like a feral brynhound from back on Primus.
“Anyone know where Tawny is?” I really don’t give a drack about what’s going on in here; I just want to find Tawny.
They all shrug, one staring, eyes slit, the others avoiding my gaze altogether.
“Thanks.” I stalk out of the room. Something’s wrong; I need to find her. When she’s not on the bridge, I head for the cargo area. It’s the only other place I can think she might be.
Tawny
I can’t sleep. The chaise is uncomfortable. The smell of antiquity I thought I liked is actually musty and makes my nose itch. Besides, I’m torn up inside, my stomach is clenching, and it has nothing to do with breakfast.
I’ve been steadfast in my defense of Dev. It was my impassioned speech that saved his life on board the Leaf on the Wind. I’ve tried to convince everyone, including the handsome male himself, that I care for him because of his character, and not out of some sick mutation of emotions.
But I think Lexa, that bitch, was right. Maybe her words just helped me acknowledge the truth. I can’t look at him without remembering the abuse administered by his hands. It’s in my brain—on some deep level.
Those beautiful hands. Those hands that delivered such ecstasy to me last night. The palm that I kissed with the deepest, warmest feeling of love about ten hours ago. Yeah, those hands. They should never touch me again.
Anguished tears are rolling down my face right now, but I know for certain I need to end this misguided fascination flowing between us.
The three women are all rooming together. They told me at breakfast the cabin’s got two bunk beds. I’ll be the fourth. It couldn’t take too long for us to return to Earth. It won’t matter if we’re all squashed in there together. The way Lexa was acting, there might be more room in there soon—after I kill the bitch.
I stand up and re-roll my humongous black pant legs. I smooth my palms on my thighs as I try to decide how to inform Devolose. That’s what I’m going to call him from now on. No nicknames. No terms of endearment. Just cordial conversation with a former lover who’s now no more than an acquaintance.
Great timing. When I hear the door open, I know as sure as I’m breathing that it’s Devolose looking for me.
Chapter Twelve
Devolose
The room is so cluttered and disorganized you’d think it would take minimas to find her, but my eyes are immediately drawn to her. She’s standing in a corner near the reclining couch. Her eyes skitter from mine to look down at the floor. Whatever is going on is bad. All my previous excitement sinks heavily to my stomach.
“Tawny, what’s wrong? Did those females say something to you? Hurt your feelings?” I know before she answers this isn’t the case. If someone had been mean to her she’d be running into my arms right now, not avoiding my gaze.
She bites her bottom lip, still backed against the wall.
“Come, sit.” I approach the couch and pat it. My stomach is in a tight ball. She looks up at me, her eyes brimming with tears, and shakes her head. She’s not going to sit. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why she’s going to do this, but I definitely know what she’s going to do.
“Dev...Devolose…” She looks up at me, biting her top lip now. There’s a long pause. I’ll give her time. I can almost hear the compartments in my head, the newly opened ones labeled “hope,” “happiness,” “optimism,” and “love,” shuttering closed with stark finality.
“You were right. The others were right. I do have Stockholm Syndrome.”
I have to give her credit, she keeps her gaze on me even though by the looks of it this is as hard for her to say as it is for me to hear. “I thought, I really thought that we could be good together. I wasn’t toying with you, wasn’t playing games. But I realize that every time you move fast or use a certain tone of voice, or...touch me in a certain way, I’m going to be transported back to the things you did to me on Emirus.
“There’s always going to be a part of me that cringes when you touch me, even though the rest of me loves
you.”
Oh my Gods! Is she really telling me she loves me at the same moment she’s informing me she doesn’t want to be with me anymore? I’ve known for decades the universe was not fair, but this is downright cruel.
“I think it’s best that I move into the room with the other women. Give me five minutes to gather my two pieces of clothing and I’ll be on my way. We’re going to speak with Thantose about returning us to Earth. I’ll stay out of your sight as much as possible until we get there.”
She reaches out to pat my arm, but I snatch it away. I don’t wish to hurt her, but her touch right now would be too much to bear. My jaw is tightly clenched. I can’t let her see that I’m cracking apart inside. Until yesterday I thought of myself as stone; I need to turn to stone again.
