Sextus

by Alana Khan

  My heart is slamming in my chest, that hand was for my life—that is, if you believe Khour is a man of his word and will spare me. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath the whole time. He was right, my hands are trembling.

  “You know, Mr. Khour, as fun as that was I think there’s no need to play the next game. You see, since my life is to be spared, I’ll need the Cerulean to fly me out of here. Too bad, but I think our little game is over.” I push my chair back to leave, a ballsy move, I know. He grabs my hand and pulls me back into my seat.

  “I’m a wealthy male, Lexa. I have one or two other vessels at my disposal. You don’t really need him to get you off this planet. Let’s play,” his voice is so calm and smooth a bystander would never know we’re playing for a male’s life. He nods to Sirnan, who shuffles, then deals us each two cards.

  I get a pair of two’s. That’s actually not a bad starting hand in a head’s up game. I can tell I’m beat after the first three exposed cards are on the table, because Khour isn’t using his poker face at all and obviously got a pair. Since any pair beats mine, I know I’ve lost before he flamboyantly turns over his eight, ten. There’s an eight on the board. I lose.

  Oh, my God. I just lost Sex’s life in a poker game. Sextus, dead. He’s so full of life, so strong, so sure of himself. I don’t want to picture him gone. My stomach feels like it’s dropped to the floor; my chest hurts.

  I try to keep my poker face, but I can feel my cheeks trembling as I try to hold back my tears. Out of all the shit that’s happened to me since my abduction from Earth, this, this right here is the worst thing by far. I’ve killed Six.

  How did my life get so crazy and out-of-control? I remind myself that I really didn’t just get Six killed. At this very moment, he would probably be heading to Ortheon, anyway. But this thought doesn’t lessen the fact that his certain death will be on me.

  “You don’t have a good klempto face, Lexa. It’s obvious you care for the male. Admit it. You look like you just condemned your best friend to death from your bad play.” He pierces me with a knowing gaze. “I have an idea.” He waits for me to ask.

  “What?”

  “Best two out of three. We play three more hands, winner takes all.”

  “Takes all what?”

  “If you win, both you and the Cerulean live and he takes you off Ortheon to live happy little lives. If I win—”

  “I take off my panties and my kimono,” I interrupt because I really, really don’t want to hear his proposal.

  He actually makes a tsk, tsk sound through his teeth as he shakes his purple-mohawk’d head. “Perhaps you don’t understand, little Earth female, the stakes just jumped higher. If I win, I get complete ownership of you, I get to kill the Cerulean, and...I think the first time I take you to bed I’ll make the blue dracker watch.”

  I’ve never seen such a feral, animalistic look on a humanoid face before. The word leer doesn’t begin to describe it. He’s in his element. He loves to make others squirm, and God knows I’m squirming.

  “And if I just go to bed right now, no more klempto?”

  “I’ll let you leave in a year or two, I doubt you’d hold my interest longer than that. Besides, by then you might be...broken. Broken toys are no fun to play with. Sextus dies after I have my fun with him.”

  Moment of truth. The best two out of three means risking my life to save Six’s. It’s just that simple. I could walk away right now, go to my room, and know I’ll live through this ordeal.

  “Let’s have some fun,” Khour says. “Just a little added pressure. If you don’t decide in one minima, I’ll decide for you. Computer, one minima timer.”

  I don’t need the full minute. I knew my decision before the proposition was out of his mouth. I already admitted I’m in love with Sextus. I have to fight for his life even if it means I’ll be this psychopath’s slave for the rest of mine.

  “Best two out of three,” I declare with as much emotion as if I just chose a flavor of ice cream at Cold Stone. “Bring it, Sirnan.”

  Khour wins the first hand, I win the second. I wish I could say that he displayed some weakness, some behavior indicating this was all a lark and he‘ll change his mind. No, it’s clear he’ll happily kill Six and imprison me forever if I lose.

  Sirnan begins to shuffle, but I lay my hand on the deck as I say, “Wait.” I look at Khour. “I know you’ll follow through with your side of the bargain if you win. I’d like you to vow you’ll let us both go if I win.” I know it’s ridiculous, the male has no moral compass whatsoever. Perhaps somewhere inside he has a tiny shred of decency?

  He pauses for a moment as if he’s considering my question. “Yes, human. But don’t get your hopes up. I will win this hand.”

  And he does. He had a pair of tens; I had nothing. The hand played out in less than one minute. Done.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think my heart quit beating in my chest. I feel dead already. My eyes are still focused on my two cards, lying face-up on the table. When I finally drag my gaze to his face, he’s not even attempting to hide his look of malicious glee.

  “Too bad,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’d have you call the Cerulean and confirm his estimated time of arrival, but I’m afraid you’d try to warn him, and I’d hate to have to punish you so early in our relationship. I’ll just have to be surprised when he gets here.

  “Want some synth? It will help you sleep.”

  I have no idea what synth is, but I think my life is fucked up enough. I don’t need to develop a nice little addiction to cope with reality.

  “Thanks for your kindness. I’ll just go to bed.”

  “Just think, tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, you’ll be sleeping in my bed. I’m certain that will soothe you.”

  He’s loving this, rubbing in my pain as if my world wasn’t cracking apart enough as it is.

  “I’m certain it will,” I say. He has no idea that growing up with my father taught me how to steal an asshole’s joy. Rule number one: never let them know they just tilted your world off its axis.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lexa

  The last two days have been agony. Khour’s sadistic nature was on full display the entire time. Even when I said I had a headache, he insisted I join him for every meal. He’s shown me every inch of the grounds. I think the purpose was to demonstrate how impenetrable the mansion is and how much of a fortress the grounds are.

  The two towers toward the front of the property are fully manned. Some staff are humanoids of every color and description, including a couple Ceruleans. Khour says almost all his “staff” has been conscripted from “primitive” planets. Some are cockroach guys who signed on for money. There are guards walking the perimeter with what on Earth might be ground-to-air missiles.

  Khour tells me Ortheon II is sparsely populated. It’s mostly a mining planet despite its inherent physical beauty. The indigenous people have little technical ability and are mostly enslaved in the mines. Khour has his thumb on every being on this entire planet.

  We’re out walking the grounds when his minions’ activity increases. Sextus must be about to land. My stomach squeezes and I find it difficult to breathe. I should have never called him for help. I remind myself that he was looking for Khour, that he wants to kill him, that he was ready to die before I completely botched the whole operation.

  Khour says something into his wrist comm, and Vella hurries over to us. “Take the Earther to her room, dress her in the most revealing outfit available, and await further instructions.”

  Half an hour later I’m wearing a short, blue dress slightly less revealing than a halftique and being escorted to a room I’ve never seen before. Sextus is naked in a square wooden chair reminiscent of pictures I’ve seen of electric chairs. He’s secured at his ankles and wrists. He barely gives me a glance. He’s still acting out our cover story that we can barely tolerate each other.

  Khour snaps his fingers and indicates I should come st
and at his side. If Sextus wasn’t so vulnerable I might resist, but I’m certain a failure to comply on my part will cause severe punishment to Six. I walk over, Khour puts his arm around me, pulls me close, and glares at Sextus.

  “Circumstances have changed a bit since Lexa’s initial conversation with you. Care to get him up to date, my Pet?”

  Oh fuck, I hadn’t noticed until now, but Six’s knees are anchored about eighteen inches apart and the seat of the chair has an apparatus securely attached to his balls. It’s a vise. Positively medieval. I realize Six’s death will not be swift—or painless.

  “Sorry, Six. I tried to gamble for both our freedom, but my luck at the klempto table ran out at the wrong time.”

  “Tell him the stakes, Lexa. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” Khour prods. The lighting in the room casts his face in malevolent shadows. As if this wasn’t Shakespearean enough.

  “The bet I lost was for my perpetual servitude to Khour.” I glance down, then admit, “And your life.” I was never good at sugar coating anything, why start now? “Sorry.”

  To visually stake his claim, Khour steps behind me and reaches under the scant material of my indecently plunging neckline. He pulls both breasts out and perches them in his palms for Sextus and the five other males in the room to see. To add insult to injury, he thumbs my nipples almost absentmindedly.

  I’m trying to send Sextus volumes of information telepathically. Too bad neither of us is psychic. I just hope he can read the sincere apology in my eyes.

  While I’m being fondled, I inventory the males in the room. Two roaches and three blue males. That’s funny, I think they’re all Ceruleans. What are the odds? Is it another of Khour’s mental abuse tactics? For Sextus to be tortured and killed by his own species?

  “You going to kill me, Khour? Get it over with,” Six says nonchalantly.

  “You misunderstand, Cerulean. It won’t be quite that easy. Or fast.” Khour releases my breasts, snaps his fingers, and a lackey provides him a comfortable rolling chair. He eases into it and rubs his chin, apparently deep in thought.

  “I recall several of my trips to that drackhole planet of yours. I was a lowly foot soldier in the cartel. My job was to enlist volunteers to work for us. I’m surprised you didn’t wind up on our payroll.”

  I think he’s baiting Sextus.

  “There’s a difference between conscripts and volunteers,” Six sneers.

  “You’re such a big male, I’m surprised...did you not pass muster?”

  “I don’t recall your visit. Perhaps I was already working for the Federation.”

  “I wonder if you didn’t meet criteria. Not strong enough? Not fit enough? Ahhh…” He snaps his fingers as if a brilliant thought just entered his mind. “Perhaps not smart enough to take basic orders.”

  Oh shit. Ceruleans’ markings are distinctive. Could Khour possibly remember Sextus? Remember his sister? This male is a master at not only sticking the knife in, but turning it.

  I’m so proud of Six, he’s acting bored, completely uninterested.

  “Let’s proceed, shall we? Kill me or not. If you’re trying to bore me to death, you’re doing a good job.” He inspects the ceiling.

  “Hornix, bring me my flaying knives,” Khour says as he rolls up his sleeves.

  Did he say filleting knife or flaying knife? Oh, dear God, is he going to flay Sextus alive? Is he planning on tearing the beautiful skin off the male I love?

  Hornix, one of the roaches, brings Khour a metal tray covered with gleaming knives of various sizes.

  “Let’s start with this small one,” he says as he chooses one the size of a scalpel. “This will prolong the procedure for hours, perhaps days.” He glances at me, then adds, “Would you like this skin on the wall of our room as a reminder of your blue lover?”

  I didn’t know my vomit reflex was so fast or so strong, but I have to swallow what came hurtling up, knowing I’ll be punished if it exits my mouth.

  I close my eyes, I can’t watch.

  Khour must have glanced in my direction because he barks, “You will watch every moment of this procedure, pet! Hornix, keep your eyes on the Earther. Let me know if she blinks for more than a modicum. I have a very specific punishment in mind if she does.”

  This bastard’s truly an evil genius. Making me watch will efficiently torture both Sex and me at the same time.

  “Where shall I begin…?” He rolls his chair to Sextus and inspects the male from top to bottom. “Let’s start slow, shall we?”

  He chooses Sex’s right thigh and inserts the scalpel a quarter-inch into his flesh. I tear my eyes from the bloody operation and watch Sex’s face. Only an astute observer would see his expression change. I notice the muscles in his jaw clamp tight even as he manages to maintain an air of indifference.

  When I glance back at his thigh, I see Khour has cut three sides of a rectangle about two inches long and an inch wide. He daintily lifts the strip of skin with the scalpel and sets it on the blue flesh above the edge that’s still attached to his body. This neatly exposes a perfect rectangle of pooling, red blood.

  Don’t close your eyes, Lexa, I command myself. Blood trickles over the indentation and dribbles down the sides. I now understand how Khour threatened this could go on for days. This will be slow, precise, and torturously painful.

  “Do you sew, Lexa?” Khour asks without taking his eyes from his task. He gently scrapes the scalpel up Sex’s thigh, over his testicles, then down the other thigh in search of the site of his next attack.

  When I don’t answer immediately, he spears me with a vicious gaze. “I asked you a question. You’ll learn to comply soon enough. Do. You. Sew?”

  I know what’s coming next. He wasn’t lying when he said he loves to watch people squirm. He’s enjoying his little game.

  “Not well.”

  “When this is over, I think I’ll have you make a quilt out of all these pretty patches of blue. We’ll keep it on the bed we share. Would that please you?” His face is impassive, but I see that little smile play on his evil mouth, just like it did when he had Frexnas kill Rantin.

  “No.”

  “Too bad.” He begins an incision in a matching spot on Sex’s left thigh.

  Did I just acquire superhuman hearing? Because I actually hear the scrape of the scalpel piercing Sextus’s skin as Khour makes a perfect rectangle that matches the domino-size patch on his other thigh.

  “I remember you, Sextus Marcus Auranious. I remember you and your sister,” Khour goads as he lifts the still-attached piece of skin and perches it on Sex’s left thigh. He stops carving long enough to pierce Sextus with an evil gaze. “She was defective as I recall.”

  Sex tries to ignore the deliberate provocation, but after a few seconds of schooling his features in studied indifference, he lets out a sound so feral, so tortured, it brings tears to my eyes. He strains against his bonds, trying to reach Khour, who laughs.

  “Good,” Khour says as he rolls back a few inches. “I wanted to see how far you could move in your bonds. I knew mentioning your abnormal sister would do the trick.”

  He leans forward and tightens the clamp on Sextus’s balls. “Just a little pinch,” he narrates, “to get your attention. After all, we’re just getting started.”

  The facts are clear. Sex is going to die. It will be long and agonizing. I glance at his face, the muscles in his cheeks bunch as he clenches his teeth against the pain.

  I’ll be at this psychopath’s mercy until he breaks me or kills me. Probably he’ll break me, then kill me.

  I’m not strong or powerful enough to murder Khour, but if I manage to stab him, maybe he’ll be enraged enough to kill Sex and me right now. A swift death sounds merciful as opposed to what Khour has in store for us.

  I practically dive the five-foot distance between me and the tray of knives. Picking the biggest, the size of the largest knife in my kitchen, I whirl around to slice Khour’s chest. He jumps back, but too late to completely avoid me. I
see green blood ooze through the cut in his shirt.

  I hadn’t thought further than this moment. I figured his henchmen would have killed me by now. I hear scuffling behind me but pay no attention to it. I just keep attacking Khour. I’ve somehow changed my grip on the huge knife and I’m stabbing him wherever I can reach. He’s fallen to the floor but is still slicing back at me with the scalpel as he scrabbles backward.

  I think he slashed me on my right forearm, but I just keep stabbing, knowing any second now I’ll die from one of the roaches’ poisonous spray.