by Sue Lyndon
“Good girl.” He releases my hair and caresses my head for a moment, even pausing within my pussy as he comforts me.
It’s fucking perverse, but a sense of pride reverberates in my chest because he’s pleased I came on command. Endorphins rush my scalp, prickling and dancing along each strand of hair as he strokes my disheveled locks. I melt into his touch, a captive to the euphoric sensations I’m helpless to stop.
But he resumes pounding into me seconds later, breaking the spell and leaving me wishing I could build an impenetrable wall around my heart.
His cock stiffens and he groans louder than before. Then his hot seed spurts into me, filling me up. He hovers over me, breathing hard, until he finally withdraws from my pussy. I wince at the soreness, yet part of me savors the ache.
I can’t fathom why.
“Stay right here.”
I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. When I hear running water, I realize he must be in the bathroom. He returns with a warm, wet cloth and dabs it tenderly between my legs. I want him to hold me again, but only because I need someone to hold me and he’s the only person around.
Tears prick at my eyes and I blink rapidly. He’s probably going to throw me into the cage and go to sleep now. My stomach suddenly growls and I wonder if I’ll have to beg for my food, beg for a blanket at night, and beg for every little comfort and kindness for the rest of my days.
An even darker thought strikes me. Will there come a point when I must beg for my life? He carried me off the Stargazer, but perhaps he only plans to keep me until he grows tired of me. Sure, he’d called me his mate, but I don’t know what being mated in his culture entails. What if the males of his kind discard one mate for a new one whenever they damn well please? What would happen to me then? I shudder, picturing all the horrific ways he could get rid of me, then blink hard and give my head a quick shake to dispel the sudden onslaught of violence images.
He leaves me and opens the top drawer of a nearby dresser. Pulling a thin black, oversized robe out, he tosses it next to my head. The warm cloth is still between my legs, and numbness begins to spread over my previously sore flesh. He must have applied an ointment or medicine of some kind to the cloth.
My thoughts race. How can he grab me, slap my face, whip my breasts, and force himself on me, only to tend to me so gently in the aftermath of his brutality?
It then occurs to me my lungs don’t sting with each breath and my throat doesn’t burn from the smoke anymore. Other than fatigue, I felt remarkably well when I awoke in the cage. He must have also tended to me after taking me from the Stargazer, after I passed out the last time. I’m no expert, but, even so, the amount of smoke I inhaled should’ve killed me.
He helps me sit on the bed, with the cloth still tucked between my legs, and then he wraps an arm around me, just as I’d secretly hoped he would. He urges my head against his chest, and I don’t resist his offered comfort. He strokes my hair, rekindling the euphoric sensations that had rushed my head earlier, and says, “Now you belong to me, Laylah. By the laws of my people, you are forever mine.”
I’m quiet.
What can I say to his pronouncement? I certainly can’t argue. Not only am I too frightened to refute his claim, but I’m weak in the aftermath of losing my virginity in the most brutal way imaginable.
You are forever mine. This part of his declaration calms my concerns that he’ll discard me, possibly by killing me, to take a new mate in the future. At least I don’t have to worry about staying in his favor simply to remain alive. How difficult will it be to adapt to his culture? Do I even want to try?
I don’t understand why his strong arms and the heat of his body feel like a refuge. How is that possible after the harshness he’s visited upon me?
“Laylah, I want you to use the bathroom, clean up, even take a shower if you wish, and then put the robe on. Come downstairs after you finish, and we’ll have dinner.”
He kisses my forehead then releases me and strides through the door without another word, leaving me alone with only my tormented thoughts as company.
In a trance, I rise from the bed. The light gray covers are stained red with my blood, and so is the cloth, but the pain is completely gone now. The medicine he applied to the rag worked wonders.
This is not how I’d envisioned losing my virginity. Not in a million years.
On shaky legs, I walk to the window and gaze into the night. There’s nothing but darkness, stars, and the two orange moons. I stand there for about five minutes, wondering how far the ground rests below. But I’m not like the kickass heroines in the movies and books from my childhood. I’m too chicken shit to attempt climbing down or jumping out the window, so I obey Kenan and take a shower.
It takes some time to figure out the controls and how to adjust the temperature to my liking, but I eventually get it working and help myself to the fragrant bottles of soap to wash every inch of my body, including my hair.
After I snatch one of the plush towels from a hook and dry off, I wipe the condensation from the mirror and gaze at my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed from all my crying, and a faint pink mark tinges the left side of my face. My breasts look like hell, but I don’t think they appear as damaged as earlier. The welts are fading with no signs of bruising.
I sigh and towel dry my hair as best I can then venture back into the bedroom in search of the robe. The oversized garment drags on the ground with each step, but I’m grateful Kenan has permitted me clothing.
Grateful. I shake my head. Maybe the trip through the wormhole made me delusional or off-balance. I don’t understand my odd desire to please him, or my automatic gratitude for the smallest kindnesses he bestows on me. I try to summon blazing hatred for the monster who stole my innocence, but I’m not convinced my dislike for him burns hot enough. I tell myself I’m in shock and the hatred and repulsion will arrive later, after the initial disbelief over today’s events wears off.
I smooth my damp hair behind my ears and head for the door. As I descend the steps on the tall, wide staircase, I pray he leaves me untouched for the remainder of the night. And I pray he’s lying about the wormhole. I don’t want to believe I’ll never see my homeworld and my family and friends again.
His house is obscenely lavish, beset with sparkling chandeliers, awe-striking paintings and artwork, and extravagant moldings and arched ceilings with skylights. Coming from a lower middle-class family, I’m not used to luxuries of any kind. Dad’s a construction worker, and Mom’s a medical receptionist. Oftentimes, they survive paycheck to paycheck. I used to work weekends at a grocery store to help out. The only reason I got into Harvard is because of the recommendation of my father’s step uncle, who’s a tenured professor at the prestigious school. Oh, and one hell of a student loan with a few tiny scholarships sprinkled in.
I wonder what Kenan does for a living. His home screams wealth and sophistication. Given his barbaric treatment of me, I would expect him to live in a primitive cave in the side of a Tallian mountain.
“In here, Laylah. In the dining room!”
I smell something delicious that reminds me of lasagna and my stomach rumbles again.
Taking a deep breath, I amble toward the open doorway, praying I’m not the main course.
Chapter Six
Two servants attend to us during the meal. Neither of them speak, and I can’t discern whether they are male or female. They aren’t human or from the same race as Kenan. Short, bald, and with milky white skin, they glide in and out of the dining room bringing in new courses and taking away dirty dishes.
I’m so starved I devour everything placed in front of me. Nothing is recognizable, but it’s all quite delicious. I also indulge in two tall glasses of what tastes like wine. It makes my head buzz and leaves me relaxed. When I request a third glass, though, Kenan shakes his head, says something in his native tongue which I don’t understand, and the servant instead pours me water.
“I’ll not have you becoming inebriated, Laylah,” he says
in a scolding, almost fatherly tone. “This yinsiza wine is strong stuff, and you don’t look like you weigh more than a hundred pounds. I doubt you can hold three glasses without getting sick.”
I stare across the table at him as I sip my water. I place the cup down and clear my throat. “I’m a hundred twenty-five pounds, actually,” I reply, as if claiming those extra twenty-five pounds would make him fear me, or respect me more. I’m ever aware of his great, intimidating size. Had I seen a man of his stature on Earth, I would have forgotten my manners and stopped to gawk. “So you know how to speak English perfectly, and you also know human standards and measurements?”
His visage darkens and he sets his utensils down. “My father raised me until I was twelve, rarely letting me see my mother. I endured a rigorous human education at the facility I was kept in until I was freed. I know more about Earth and the history of your planet than I care to.”
“I’m not your father, you know. Or any of the others who held you in that facility. What you did to me upstairs…” My voice trails off as my throat closes up.
“Your people came to Tallia not long after we settled here. Our numbers were smaller back then and we were weak, still recovering from a terrible war that we won, but only at great cost, with our home planet left uninhabitable. Then your people started capturing and experimenting on mine. We’ve spent the last few decades gathering our strength and rebuilding our last remaining warships in order to fight back against the human invaders. The resort town of Capital Acres has been demolished. All the human males have been killed, and the females captured will be used as slaves or mates. You ought to be thankful you survived the attack on the Stargazer.” He leans forward and his eyes glitter with madness. “You ought to thank me for saving your life, Laylah, and carrying you off the ship when I could just as easily have snapped your neck, or left you to die on the floor in your quarters.”
I push back from the table and start to leave the room, but I pause in the doorway and clutch the intricate molding. The last time I ran from Kenan, he punished me. I spin around and make my way back to the table, glaring at him with contempt as I return to my seat. “I don’t want to be here,” I say slowly, deliberately, “so perhaps you should have left me to die on the Stargazer. It’s preferable to this hell.”
He leans back in his chair and finishes off his glass of wine, his glowing purple eyes never leaving mine. A servant drifts into the room to refill his cup then quickly departs.
“Or,” I continue, “you can finish what you should’ve done in the first place. Go ahead. Snap my neck.” I’m being dramatic, perhaps even a bit childish, but I’m pissed off and want nothing more than to storm out of this room and slam a door somewhere. Then I remember all the doors in this house slide open and shut automatically and I clench my teeth until my jaw aches. I finger the stem of my glass of water, imagining the satisfaction I’d gain from hurling it into his smug face.
“If you throw water in my face, little human, I will turn you over my knee and spank your naughty bottom.” He’s using the scolding, fatherly tone again, as if I’m some errant child in need of correction.
I don’t like the way my behind tingles at his threat, or the heat that gathers and pulses between my thighs. With a frustrated sigh, I set the glass on the table and tuck my hands in my lap, away from temptation.
He dabs his mouth with a cloth napkin and nods toward the hallway. “If you’re done with your little temper tantrum, Laylah, you may be excused. There’s an invisible force field around the outside of the house, though, so don’t get any ideas about running away. You will only be able to cross through it when I am touching you, or in extremely close proximity to you. It’s a beautiful night. You may sit outside on the patio for a while if you wish. Or go back to your cage. Your choice.”
As I move to depart the dining room, he adds, “Do not attempt to speak with any of the servants. If one of the servants initiates a conversation with you, or touches you, which is expressly forbidden, I’ll expect you to report the incident to me at once. The only time it’s acceptable for you to speak to them is if they knock before entering our bedroom and you need to command them to enter, or to come back later. They are familiar with the rudiments of your language and should understand such basic commands. Do you understand, little human?”
“Yes, I understand.” I leave him and find the patio easily enough.
It’s so pitch dark I can’t see the forest, but I hear it fine. The insects have grown louder and the occasional distant growl or screech carries over the singing bugs. Despite the force field, the breeze enters to caress my face and tousle my hair.
As I’m about to question the effectiveness of the barrier, one of the servants from the dining room walks through it and onto the patio. He, or she, is carrying a basket of fruit, and the force field shimmers green as he passes through.
He places the basket down on a small table and approaches me. I stare at him as he comes to a standstill directly in front of me.
Well, it would rude not to speak to the servants, I decide. Kenan’s not here. What the big brute doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and I’m still so livid with him that I want to defy him in some small way—as long as I don’t get caught. I peek over my shoulder to ensure he hasn’t ventured outside, and once I’m certain he’s still within the house, I return my gaze to the servant and give him a polite smile.
“Hello,” I say. “I’m Laylah. What’s your name?”
He reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. Before I can pull away, a name sounds in my mind.
Heggal. My name is Heggal, child.
I sense a laugh from within him. It tickles my brain, though I don’t quite hear it. I only hear words.
I am a male. All the females of my kind are gone. Only males are left.
“Can you speak aloud?”
No. My kind, the Ghessans, communicate telepathically. However, we’re able to communicate with most other races by touch.
“That’s amazing. It’s nice to meet you, Heggal.” If I’m to have any friends on Tallia, they’ll be servants, I suppose.
We can’t talk for long, but I want to show you something. Then, instead of words, images flash in my conscious. I shut my eyes to concentrate on the situation he replays like a movie.
It’s after the Stargazer has been conquered, and Kenan is carrying me toward a large tent on the surface of Tallia. Behind us rests one of the sleek gray ships. A doctor is walking behind him, I sense he’s a doctor from Heggal, and Kenan keeps shouting orders and threats to the elderly alien, who appears to be the same race as Kenan.
Though I know they are speaking Kleaxian and I can distinctly hear the words spoken in the alien tongue, I also hear the echo of the words translated in English, thanks to my telepathic friend.
“You must treat her now. Her pulse feels weak.”
“That’s not surprising. Humans are a weak species.” The doctor pales and quickly adds, “No offense to you, Prince Kenan.”
Prince? In my surprise, I struggle to keep up with the images.
Kenan snarls and walks faster. “You’ll treat her and mend all her injuries, or you’ll join her in death.”
The rest of the images come quickly.
Kenan, his face drawn with deep worry lines, paces beside a medical table as the doctor pumps something into my mouth, a mist I surmise is to heal my lungs. He holds various blinking scanners over my body, sometimes hovering over a specific part of me, like my throat, for several minutes at a time.
At last, the doctor places his instruments down and nods at Kenan.
“She might be tired when she awakes, but she’ll survive. I gave her something to keep her unconscious while I treated her lungs, so expect her to be out for quite some time.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Kenan stands over me and strokes my hair. Relief has replaced the concern in his eyes. The worry lines on his face also start to relax.
Laylah.
Heggal’s talking again inside my mind.
Don’t try to go through the force field that’s just beyond this patio and the walkways connecting it to other patios surrounding the house. Only Kenan and a few choice servants can pass through it freely. He’ll know if you attempt it. Don’t give him a reason to punish you. And don’t run from him. Whatever you do, don’t run from him. Don’t tell him I talked to you, or he’ll send me to work for one of his relatives on a faraway mountain. The other servants here are my friends and it would break my spirit to leave them.
Heggal releases my hand and the image of Kenan staring at me with relief fades. I open my eyes and I’m back on the patio, feeling as if I’ve just awoken from a dream. The nighttime bugs sound louder than before.
“Why did you show me that?”
The pale alien doesn’t reply, but gives me a knowing smile before retrieving his basket and entering the house, leaving me alone with my muddled thoughts.
It doesn’t make sense. During our dinner conversation, Kenan made it sound as if he’d almost left me to die in my quarters. But that isn’t true at all.
He worried about whether or not I would survive, and he’d threatened to murder a doctor if I didn’t live. My heartbeat quickens and I feel faint as I try to process this new information.
Kenan is an enigma.
I want to know more about him, as well as the mountain he calls home, but I’m still too frustrated and angry to seek him out, not to mention fearful. Is he really a prince? I stare into the dark forest as if it contains the answers to my questions.
Eventually, I shift my gaze to the sky and drink in the beauty of the two full moons. I’ve seen pictures before, of course, but glimpsing the bright orange moons of Tallia in person is so much more rewarding than any photo flashing across the television screen.
Before my parents tore up my acceptance letter to the art school, I frequently painted and sketched the two moons of Tallia. Once it became apparent that despite my love of painting and drawing, I wouldn’t be able to pursue a career as an artist, I decided if I couldn’t paint Tallia’s moons anymore, I would at least visit the planet one day, and perhaps, once my education was complete, make it my permanent home.
