by Raven Dark
I lay there shaking and shivering and suddenly cold. He kissed my ear, and then I heard him say something to Z’pheer.
Feet shuffled.
Oh, no, Z’pheer. Why it bothered me to have him near me now, I didn’t know. It wasn’t like I wished it was Malek. Somehow, I knew Malek would have been worse.
Z’pheer knelt beside me. I shrank from him and turned my head away. He gave a soft, husky laugh that had an “Aw, don’t be that way” tone to it.
That pissed me off, and I squirmed to put myself further from him. He stilled me with a hand on my hip, and I looked up at him. Was it his turn now?
Two of Z’pheer’s fingers slid between my legs, stroking my still slicked sex. I jerked, mortified as much by his touch as by the urge to rub my aching core against his fingers, desperate to relieve the throbbing there.
He murmured something that had the word ‘hes’ in it, his voice a rumble of approval as he looked back at Raul.
“Daz.” Raul chuckled and started laying down more leaves for two more beds.
Z’pheer felt up every inch of my butt cheeks now, the sting almost too much. For Christ sake, Z’pheer really meant to lay another beating on my ass before the sting of the first one was even gone?
But Z’pheer didn’t slap my ass. Instead, he opened a circular container in his hand and spread something white and creamy on his fingers. He set the container down and rubbed the cream between his palms with a medical professionalism.
That professionalism made it no less clear that he was as turned on as Raul and Malek. The front of his pants were tented, and his gorgeous eyes were silver pools of need while he creamed up his palms.
The cool cream touched my ass cheek and I hissed at the sting. He made a soothing sound and rubbed it over both cheeks. The sting slowly faded to a soothing, cool tingle.
Malek whispered something to Raul nearby.
“Malek,” Raul chided, but it carried amusement.
A kind of low-level despair settled in, and I shut it out before it could become a planet-sized pit in my gut. I wouldn’t give in to the helplessness that hovered right there, a black hole before my eyes.
Z’pheer finished putting the salve on my ass. It smelled wonderful, a little like aloe mixed with some sort of exotic floral scent. Tears leaked out of my eyes, and I couldn’t even dash them away with my arms still behind my back.
No one uncuffed me.
Z’pheer brought over Raul’s poncho and covered me with it. The cloth was so big it was more than enough to cover all but my head. It was also Raul’s, which made me want to toss it off. Except I couldn’t. The suns had set outside the cave, leaving a sharp chill that was starting to seep in, probably coming in off the water I’d seen earlier.
While the bird cooked over a slow fire, and the men talked around the fire pit waiting to eat, I let the hatred for these aliens that permeated my every thought seed itself deep. Letting it give me hope and strength.
If these assholes thought I’d just lie down and accept spending the rest of my life as a slave to their sick whims, they had another thing coming. Even with the Rith and whatever other dangers this world had waiting, there had to be a way to escape without getting myself killed. Somehow, I’d get the hell out of here.
Somehow, I’d get off this fuck-turd of a planet and make it back home.
7
Preparations
There is a thing that happens in situations like this.
When the world goes to hell and the shock of what has happened hits like a tidal wave, it’s like you become two people. One half of you sits within yourself, mourning the days before, when things were normal. That half longs to crawl into a black pit of self-pity and despair, trying to hide from the truth. Trying to fade into a place where the light can’t reach you and reveal the shamed, quivering creature you’ve become. The other half, the rational half, regroups, plans, thinks, refusing to give up hope and finding a way to deal until it can get back to the place where it hopes to hell normal still waits with open arms.
The thing was, I’d done this before. A hundred times after my father had gone into one of his drunken fits, I’d had to become what I was now, two people inside myself, trying to deal.
I knew far too much about how to handle this. I was part of a club no one wanted to be in, baring the badge of membership that, even when it was tossed away, would never really leave me.
While the men still talked over by the fire, their voices low enough that I couldn’t make out the words, the rational part of me tried to do what it was supposed to do—face the facts.
Nothing I’d ever seen, much less went through on Earth, had ever approached what I was facing now. On Earth, I had choices. I had people I could go to, talk to. Here, there was no such safety net.
I was in bondage, both literally and figuratively, and while the bruises on my ass would disappear in a few days, the role I’d been forced into wouldn’t. It would remain there, unseen shackles stronger than any steel cuffs. It would only be gone when I made it disappear, when I did something about it.
The logical solution—running from here like some survival hero out of a storybook—wasn’t an option, and not just because of the Rith. This fucking planet was completely unknown to me. I didn’t know this world’s rules, its cultures. Hell, I didn’t even know its language. Even the things I took for granted on Earth, rules and common knowledge that existed in every part of my world, weren’t a given here.
It pissed me the fuck off to realize this, but like it or not, I didn’t know how to survive here without these men.
Without my captors.
Until I did, I had to stick to them like glue. I had to wait and watch, learn all I could. Biding my time.
I looked over at the fire, less than ten feet away. Raul sat across the pit from me, poking at the fire with a long stick. Z’pheer turned the roasting spit on the fire slowly. Fat dripped off the bird, hissing as it hit the fire.
My gaze fixated on the revolving bird, the aroma of it, like a roasting turkey, making my mouth water.
Would the men allow me to eat any of it? My stomach gave an unforgiving rumble while the three of them sat around the cook fire like a fucking pack of lions, ignoring the female in their midst.
The very hungry, trussed up female.
I glared at Raul. The fucking leader of the pack. The firelight played across his gorgeous features, making the harsh, chiseled lines stand out. He was watching the fire, his eyes on the bird, away from me.
Hatred for him burned in the pit of my stomach. He’d gotten off on beating my ass. On disciplining his slave like a father with a misbehaving child.
There was an added problem with what was happening here. Unlike with my father, a horrible sense of rightness settled over me when I stared at him, letting his actions earlier burn a hole through my thoughts.
That thought—that some part of me wanted to accept what he’d done—sent a world of disgust and self-loathing burying itself deep in my psyche. Wow. That was some fucked up shit right there. I wasn’t into being hit, but somewhere deep down, somewhere where a sick, irrational girl lived, I knew he’d done exactly what he was supposed to do.
Fuck, what the hell was that shit, some sort of victim-blaming crap? No. One, I wasn’t a fucking victim. And two, the rightness trying to rip its way into my mind and body wasn’t a coping thing. It wasn’t some rational way to deal with a shitty situation in order to avoid falling apart.
This…this connection to him and what he’d done, was something much more screwed up. It was a knowing, a bone-deep understanding that carried an almost instinctive clarity. Something in my blood, in my DNA, needed this.
Craved it.
I laid my head down, my eyes widening with horror. I hadn’t forgotten what happened every time I smelled him or the other two. Last time, the scent of him alone had made me horny. When he’d been tanning my ass, I’d been even wetter. Whatever part of my mind tried to tell me what he’d done was right—that it was how
things should be—must have been reacting to that scent. The scent of him had addled my brain, fucked up something in my genetic make-up, causing me want what he gave.
Well, I wouldn’t let myself get sucked into that, whatever it was. Whatever connection was forging itself between us, I’d find a way to shut that shit down. Shut it down or kill it before it swallowed me whole.
Malek said something to Raul and nodded to me. Nervousness and fresh fear pulled me out of my reverie and drew my focus to the here and now.
Raul nodded and lifted his head, his eyes on me. I raised my shoulders up, my skin prickling with dread.
“Kahn, nayna.” He waved for me to join him at the fire, his tone brimming with delight.
I considered his words, putting the pieces together from what I’d learned of his language. Z’pheer had used the word “Kahn” before. It had meant ‘Come,’ or something like that. ‘Nayna’ meant slave.
Which meant Raul had just said “Come, slave.”
Indignation made my teeth clench.
Why I was shocked, I didn’t know. After what he’d done, the summons should have washed off me like water off a duck’s back. Still, the words had me lying there, unable to bring myself to obey like some kind of animal called by its master.
Ironically, Tarku sat at the entrance to the cave, curled up on guard duty, watching the men. Somehow, the sight of him only drove the reality of my situation deeper.
At my resistance, Raul’s expression hardened a little in warning. He snapped his fingers at an empty space beside him. “Kahn, nayna.”
Ugh. Fucking bastard.
The other two men were watching me, waiting to see how I would react.
I conjured up the image of the Rith in my mind, the primary reason I had to toe the line. Unable to use my hands to push myself up, I pulled myself awkwardly to my feet.
This situation was temporary. What was it they said? This too shall pass. I’d find a way out, but not now.
I made myself walk around the fire to Raul’s side, every step feeling like my feet had lead weights on them. A ridiculous image of a cartoon ball and chain dragging me down floated up in my mind and pushed it away. It was too close to the truth to be funny.
Raul reached up behind me and the cuffs clicked open, dropping into his palm.
I rubbed my wrists, the pressure on my shoulders and arms fading.
Raul set the cuffs aside and looked up at me from the fire, waiting. I blinked. I was standing there like a moron, lost in my own emotions.
He nodded to the spot beside him, muttering something into a mug in his hand. Something that, by the tone, sounded like “Sit down.”
Seated beside the fire to Raul’s right, Z’pheer grinned, running his fingers over his lips in thought, watching every move we made. On my other side opposite Raul, Malek snorted into his own mug.
Irritation with him pricked me. I sighed, about to sit down, but stopped. The thought of my ass touching the ground filled me with dread.
Z’pheer must have picked up on my distress, because he reached over to the poncho that had been covering me and tossed it to me.
Leave it to him to always be the nice one. The son of a bitch made it painfully difficult not to feel grateful to him.
I lay down on my stomach, the only position that would allow me to be comfortable. Ass to the open air, bared to these men, but at least nothing was touching it.
The warmth of the fire this close made the need for any covering unnecessary. The heat warmed my skin and drove away any chill from outside.
While Raul and the men served themselves, putting chunks of bird on metal plates that must have been in Z’pheer’s packs, Malek leaned back, reaching behind me. His eyes danced, his fingers lightly caressing my ass. I jolted at the sting.
He spoke in a low, approving voice, inspecting my ass cheeks. Obviously enjoying what he saw. Fuck, they must have been candy-apple red, Raul’s massive palm print probably clear as day.
I’d been duly punished for my actions against Malek. I could see the satisfaction in his eyes over that. Irritatingly, he probably didn’t care that I’d hit him. I hadn’t hurt him or left marks. It was the principle of the thing, a woman forgetting her place.
I shifted, putting my cheeks away from him, but he just laughed, squeezed my hip, and served himself some bird. The smell of it filled my nostrils, greasy and succulent and making my stomach growl again.
It hit me hard in the gut then. I needed these men. I didn’t know how to protect myself, or hunt or forage for food. I had no money for supplies. Yes, I was a thief, or I had been once. I could have stolen what I needed, but without knowing the landscape or the world’s laws, I couldn’t risk stealing anything without getting killed. It annoyed the fuck out of me to realize that I needed any man, but here and now, it was the only truth that mattered.
Only when Raul and his men had served themselves did he tear off a large chunk of bird meat and hold it out to me. It looked great, fatty and thick and juicy. I snatched it from him and bit off a piece, letting the juice soak my tongue and soothe my hunger. The meat tasted something like turkey, but spicier.
Malek stroked my hair and looked down at me. “Vi se hak sai, nayna?”
I shook my head. “What?”
He repeated the question and nodded to Raul. To the meat in my hand.
I thought I understood. I was supposed to show him my gratitude.
Putting on a fake, sweet smile, I drawled the words out, unable to resist the sarcasm. “Thank you, Raul, oh, wise caring leader.”
The men’s reactions surprised me. Z’pheer burst into laughter, and Malek’s shoulders shook. Raul shook his head. He gave the back of my hair a hard yank, his smile vicious.
While we ate, the men continued to talk. With my hunger abated, only now did I pick up on several key things about the conversation. One, however much the men enjoyed what they did to me, there was nothing light about the tone their discussion carried now. And two, they sat forward with the unmistakable urgency of warriors deep in planning mode.
Z’pheer spoke in a low voice, his eyes earnest on Raul. Looking to his leader for direction.
Raul responded with a long string of words in the careful, practical tone of a man used to command.
Malek nodded and gave what I thought was a suggestion. Raul paused in thought and nodded slowly. Z’pheer added what might have been a suggestion of his own.
His two men went back and forth, and Raul listened silently, taking in their words. Measuring them. Sometimes Malek and Z’pheer gestured to the world outside, their tones grating with the hatred of men who knew they’d lost too much to an enemy. Raul’s features were dour, darkness and loss settling over him with a heaviness that was almost tangible. He ate his bird for a moment longer before he dropped it onto his plate as if he’d lost his appetite.
I loathed the empathy that pulled at me for him, sympathy that refused to be shut out.
I didn’t have to understand their language to know what was happening. These men had had their fun giving me the what for, but they hadn’t forgotten what they were facing. Their world had been attacked by an enemy race. Gwen had said the Rith wanted what this world had. These men had come home at the tail end of a war that had left parts of their world in ruins. It was time to regroup and figure out what to do next.
I went over what I knew of such situations, which wasn’t much. I was no warrior or soldier, and I was way out of my depth. But even I knew what was at stake on some level.
Those ruined cities meant dead people. A lot of them. How many? Were we talking apocalyptic proportions, or only a few thousand lost? Were the world leaders this planet looked to for help and direction gone as well?
If so, what did these warriors do now? I was too out of my element to even begin to know the answer, but I felt the urgent need for action pounding off the men in a way that went beyond language.
For the umpteenth time, I wished the hell I could have understood them. I wanted to hate them,
but their loss was too big, too catastrophic for me not to want to help them. No one deserved this sort of thing to happen to them.
Not even these barbarians.
Several times I tried to ask questions, to learn more, but the three of them all but ignored me. Raul stroked my hair as if to shush me.
I suppressed a curse, taking the hint. I was a woman—or perhaps a human—and I should stay out of things that weren’t my affair. Let the men take care of things.
Had I more of a clear understanding of what they were facing, I would have argued, but I didn’t. Besides, when it came to men like these, there was no hope for anyone whom they excluded, no way to change the way they saw things.
I ate my bird meat in silence and stewed.
Words were exchanged, suggestions, angry rebukes, and emphatic refusals, all filled the cave with a dark undertone of what I could only call battle-ready energy. Until at last, Raul laid out what I thought were orders, and the men finally agreed on what must have been a plan.
Malek ran his hand down his tired face and yawned. He said something, telling the others they needed sleep, perhaps. He clapped Raul on the shoulder, and Raul squeezed his with a brotherly appreciation.
Malek nodded to me, and whatever he said dripped with smug knowing. He winked at me, and Raul chuckled before Malek went over to one of the leafy makeshift beds, lying across it on his side, his eyes closing.
Raul drained his mug, stood, and patted Z’pheer on the shoulder. He said something now, nodding to me.
“Daz,” Z’pheer said, putting down his empty plate.
Raul gathered what was left of the bird, scraps of meat and bone, piled them on a plate, and carried them over to Tarku. He set the plate in front of the dog and scratched his ears.
I lifted my shoulders up, picking up on the sense of finality, a next step waiting to be taken. I sat up on one arm, careful to lean on my hip and keep as much of my searing ass from touching anything as possible. “So, what happens now, Z’pheer?”
