Chapter 4
The next morning, I look as bad as I feel.
My skin has a gray tone to it, the shadows under my eyes are as big as saucers. I tried, over and over again, to separate my spirit from my body so I could sneak down to the cellar to Khazaar. But Zeyliv is a clever man. He has stationed his cats outside of my room, and they sound the alarm when they see my spirit. By now, I am sure they can see me, because the one cat’s paw, and its razor-sharp swing that barely misses my stomach in the air, are a clear warning. No matter how often I try to sneak out, they notice it every time. By morning, I give up and sink into a short sleep at dawn, in which I am hounded by dreams with Khazaar and Zeyliv fighting each other to the death.
When I wake, I can still see the dreams vividly in front of me. Can I trust my subconscience? If it is right, then the situation has long outgrown a “simple” escape from Betania. Now, it’s about an instinctive fight for power between two men, who are claiming the same woman for themselves, for completely different reasons. I can’t imagine that Zeyliv has fallen in love with me, and therefore just has to have me. Admittedly, I would have never imagined it to be that way with Khazaar, but with him it was somehow … different. How can you put something into words that you can’t explain, but you just know exists? The sudden and deep certainty that Khazaar and I belong together is as unprovable as the existence of God. I have to smile at my pretension. I am comparing my love to the existence of God. If that isn’t hubris that should be punished, then I don’t know what is.
As if to prove my thoughts, one of Zeyliv’s men comes into my room. Of course, he doesn’t even knock. Here in this house, I count for nothing. Nobody has to show me any kind of respect, and I am not even worth the smallest courtesy. My mouth pulls into an unfriendly smile, as I imagine giving Zeyliv a child – and the mother of his son being despised by all.
I have never seen the man who is picking me up before. When I see his soul animal, I also know that I never want to see him again. The fat boar with its tremendous tusks reaches up to my shoulders. His foul breath hits me in the face, and his master delights in my unease. There is only one thing that is protecting me from the fury of his people, and that one thing is that Zeyliv wants something from me.
Today, he is waiting for me in the garden. He is lying relaxed in the pool, staring up at the sky. The sulfur-stinking water is swirling around his naked body and is hiding all the delicate parts, but just to be safe, I fixate my gaze strictly on his face. The man with the boar has disappeared, after delivering me like a package, and I have no idea what is going to happen now.
Zeyliv just lies there and is silent. This pulls on my nerves, which is his intention, of course. I grow nervous, my feet twitch, and my heart starts to race. Right when I decide that Zeyliv can’t just make me stand there like a school girl, and turn to leave, he stands up. I now have the unhindered pleasure of being able to see his body in all its masculine glory. The sarcasm, to which I cling in my thoughts, doesn’t help with the realization that he is just as attractive to me as Khazaar, but in a completely different way. Where Khazaar is built powerfully and is convincing just by the nature of his sheer strength, Zeyliv resembles his feline predators more. Khazaar can also move elegantly when he wants to, but Zeyliv also has a certain cat-like furtiveness. Both men have an aura of “don’t mess with me” – and both men are dangerously attractive.
I shake my head and would like to smack myself across the face to clear my head. It must be Stockholm Syndrome, I convince myself, that makes me think Zeyliv is attractive. Well, he didn’t actually kidnap me, but he is keeping me captive. If he knew that his slender body, and his elegant way of moving were better suited than anything else to convince me of his “cause,” then maybe he would forego violence. He definitely has charisma, and besides his physical merits, he is also intelligent. At least cunning. Otherwise, he would hardly have become the leader of his people. He must be brave and tough, because only a courageous man would have dared to escape from the cells of the scientists who had subjected them all to gruesome experiments.
With a jolt, I am back in the here and now. Zeyliv is snapping his fingers in front of my face to get my attention. He has climbed out of the pool and is standing naked in front of me. The smell of sulfur from the water mixed with his musky scent takes my breath away. He doesn’t smell as delicious as Khazaar whose scent infatuates me. But Zeyliv does smell undeniably masculine, almost like a lion during rutting season, somewhere between nauseating and enchanting. I wish I could close my nose like my eyes. Even then, his voice would remain, and I would not be able to shut it out, just like now, as it interrupts my thoughts. “I have asked you twice now to get in the pool with me,” he growls. I start to reply, but he is faster than me. He grabs me, picks me up, and strides into the water. For a moment, our eyes meet, and I could almost forget that I don’t have feelings for him. I see real hunger in his eyes. My body is scared stiff, but it starts to relax without me knowing it when I feel his body heat and his regular, strong heartbeat.
Slowly, he lets me glide along his naked body into the water. As soon as I feel his arousal, my steady pulse shoots through the roof. I escape by slipping into the water. Too late, I notice that still have my dress on and now it’s clinging to my body, revealing more than it is hiding. I cross my arms in front of my chest and glide far enough into the water so it is up to my neck. Unfortunately, my dress balloons up awkwardly, making the fabric float up over and over again, and it starts to get on my nerves.
Zeyliv solves this problem in his own way. He sits down next to me and brings out one of his claws. Then he slits the fabric open, from the neckline all the way to the hem. He does this so cunningly, that his claw doesn’t even touch my skin, and the memory of yesterday fades. Even so, I hear his message loud and clear: If I want to, I will hurt you. If you obey and submit to my wishes, then I will leave you unscathed.
It is this unbelievable masculine arrogance, and knowing that he has physical superiority over me, that makes something inside me explode. He might need me or desire me, whatever – but in the end, I will still just be a trophy to him. “How dare you?” I scream at him and rip the shreds of fabric from my body. This is not dignified. But I get the satisfaction of seeing him flinch for a second. “Just tell me what you want from me! You know that I will do anything to save my beloved and maybe a few of the others. Stop with these stupid games. I can’t take it anymore!”
Unbelievable. Zeyliv leans his head back and laughs so hard his whole body shakes. This just makes me angrier. I grab his honey-colored hair and pull. Once again, I feel his heat. He allows my fingers to tighten their grip on his hair, and follows my hand with his head, until his mouth is right in front of mine.
As quickly as my anger started, so it also disappears. What is left is a Cassie who can’t deny an inconvenient truth any longer. The air crackles with the possibilities that hang in the air between Zeyliv and me. I close my eyes. Stockholm Syndrome. Stockholm Syndrome. Stockholm Syndrome. His lips meet mine. With an intensity and electric shock, my lust spreads from my lips to my belly. Expert fingers push my wet panties to the side and spread me open, while his tongue enjoys my mouth. One of his fingers slides into me. I arch my back to meet him, and bite his lips until I taste blood. This only seems to excite him even more, because he growls lustily. I can feel the vibration in his chest.
And then, right before he makes me climax, he pulls his hand away, leans back and looks at me calculatingly. It takes considerable effort to slow my breathing and to bring my body back under control. The thought of Khazaar brings shame to my face.
Zeyliv’s eyes spark when he finally says something. “You’re not giving me the impression that it would be a punishment for you to have to share my bed,” he says soberly. “For that reason, I have decided to give you a small challenge.” I recognize the man in him, the man whom Mangali loves so much, with all of his facets from cruel to playful. Even more than knowing what my beloved would say about this, the realization that Zeyliv is enjoying this punishment brings me back down to earth. It is satisfying something dark and sinister in him, and without it, he would probably go crazy.
Scraping together what is left of my dignity, I reply coolly: “And that would be?” To my embarrassment, you can still hear the remnants of lust in my voice.
“I will select six prisoners whom you can set free.”
“And what are your expectations in return?” I can’t imagine that he would just release six potential sources of money out of the goodness of his own heart.
“We will play for them,” he says. The anticipation in his voice is unmistakable.
“What kind of game?” Gloomy premonitions sneak up on me. “If you want to sleep with me for that …,” I start, but he interrupts me.
“I won’t make it quite that easy on you.” As if it would be easy to sleep with him when my heart belongs to another! But inside I know the truth. My treacherous body just showed him how easy I am.
“I will select the prisoners in pairs,” he continues. “One is allowed to share your freedom, and the other one will be sold. You will swear to me to negotiate the best possible price for the one who remains.”
It takes a few seconds for his words to make sense. I swallow down the refusal that is on my tongue. To prevent myself from saying something I will regret, I ball my fists hard and dig my finger nails deep into my hands until the pain allows me to think clearly again. “That is cruel,” I stammer. “Why are you asking this of me?”
His gaze hits me sharply. “What you did to me was just as cruel,” he counters. “I am not talking about Hathura’s death, not only,” he concedes at last. “What you told me about Mangali – I would have rather not known that.”
“So, you believe me now, that I told the truth?” At that, relief makes my knees go soft as pudding, even if a part of me is surprised that he is admitting this. He doesn’t answer me, but his face hardens. “ You are punishing me for telling you the truth.” It’s an observation, not a question. “That is medieval. Mangali’s – illness is not my fault.” I hesitate to call it that. Would infatuation be better? If being love-struck is an illness, then surely half of the universe is suffering from it, including me.
It seems as if he were really thinking about it. Every time I think I know how he is going to react, he surprises me. He is the most unpredictable man I know. “One point for you,” he literally purrs. Now I know that he is hiding something. He would only show this satisfaction, if … a terrible suspicion hits me. I end the sentence in my thoughts with … if he has me exactly where he wants me. And that is exactly the case. His next words show what he is really intent on.
“I will make it a little easier for you. If you can’t decide between two candidates, there is the option to buy freedom for both of them at the same time.” His amber-colored eyes glide like a touch over my body, and stop at my breasts. A wave of contradicting feelings washes over me. Just the thought of playing God is enough to force me to my knees. I don’t want to decide who gets to live life in freedom and who will be sentenced to a pitiful, uncertain existence! But I don’t want to sell myself in return, either, to save the lives of two people, aliens, men or women. Of course, if Zeyliv were to put Khazaar and a Sethari up against each other, then my choice would obviously not be so hard. But first, he will definitely not do that. He is much too cunning for that. And second, I just don’t want this!
Again, I see no way to get out of this misery.