THREE
Despite the fact that the bath water was lukewarm and a strange greenish color, Cara didn’t care. It had been so long since she’d last bathed that she was certain she could bathe in dirty, muddy, slimy water and she would think it’d feel like heaven.
Again, she tried to think how long she’d been locked away in the Pit, but couldn’t. Her throat tightened with panic whenever she thought back, so she tilted her head to lean against the edge of the small tub and found the dull light that illuminated part of the room with her eyes. She’d spent so much time in darkness that she wondered if she’d ever be able to be in it again without wanting to scream.
Cara lifted her hand and watched as water trickled through. Again, she thought of the alien just on the other side of the thin door. She strained to listen for him, but heard nothing. She could hear other things, however. Yelling, laughing, loud moans. There was no doubt in her mind that this place was filled with beings like those in that bar. This whole—what had he called it?—colony was filled with degenerates.
But it wasn’t worse than the Pit, from where she’d been caged.
Where she was going, she didn’t know. Nothing else mattered up until that moment. She couldn’t change what had happened to her, but perhaps she could influence what her future would be.
Cara wondered if she’d ever see Earth again. If she’d ever see her friends, her city, her restaurant again.
Unlikely, she thought, steeling herself against the pain that assaulted her at that realization. She’d always been pragmatic. She’d always been a realist. So she knew that the possibility she would ever return to her planet was slim to none.
Who the hell knew how far from Earth she was?
Far enough where it doesn’t matter, she thought.
Cara eyed the door again.
She knew better than to try to escape. She’d caught enough glimpses of this colony to know that she’d probably be raped or dead or both by the morning, despite her heavy cloak shrouding her face and body.
No, she knew that gruff, maddening alien spoke the truth. Her best bet was to stick close to him regardless of what his motivations were. He said they would be leaving in the morning, which meant getting off this god-forsaken colony. Perhaps wherever he was bringing her would provide more means for escape. She could rest as they traveled, revive her strength, which would give her a better fighting chance once the time came.
One thought, however, wouldn’t stop nagging her. What would happen if he brought her somewhere worse than the Pit?
Cara scrubbed as much of the filth off her body as she could, banishing the thought. As always, she’d deal with it if it ever happened. She’d learned it was no use dwelling on something that might never come.
When she felt slightly better, slightly more refreshed, she hopped out of the tub, looking at the dirty cloak in dismay. There was no towel to dry herself with so, unless she wanted to roam around naked, she realized she had no choice.
Cringing, she donned the heavy material that smelled like acrid, sour piss, feeling it stick to her damp skin, erasing all feelings of cleanliness that had marginally lifted her spirits just a few moments before.
The room was cramped even with just her inside. A small bed was shoved into the corner, a brown stained-covered blanket draped over top. The tub the alien had dragged out took up the only space in the center of the room. She spied a small chamber pot that emanated a foul smell off to the side.
Better than your cage, she told herself, over and over again. A sense of relief drifted over her. Yes, she would live in that small, dirty room for the rest of her life if it meant she didn’t have to return to her cage.
The moment Cara gingerly sat on the rock-hard mattress, she heard a fist pound on the door, a question. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her voice slightly and said, “Yes.”
The horned alien immediately shoved himself through the small, narrow doorway and locked and latched the door behind him.
Again, she felt breathless looking at him. His eyes were glued to the opening of her hood, as if still trying to peer inside. She wondered why he didn’t just rip it off if he wished to see her.
The intense blue of his gaze made her belly warm and she turned her head away, feeling a flush in her cheeks. It was a combination of shame and desire, which irritated and confused the hell out of her.
Cara cleared her throat, shielding her body with her arms, but the alien spoke before she could.
“Are you hungry, female?”
Her eyes flashed up to his. It was strange looking at someone, knowing they couldn’t see your own facial expressions.
She’d been hungry ever since she’d been abducted. Considering her chosen profession was in the food industry, she was always around food, always tasting, sampling. She’d never felt the type of gnawing hunger that plagued her every single day in the Pit.
So, she told him honestly, “Yes.”
The alien’s lips turned down slightly, as if her answer displeased him, but she couldn’t understand why it would. Then he asked, “Did they not feed you?”
Brows furrowed, she replied quietly, “Once a day, but never enough.”
In alarm, Cara watched his fists clench at his sides. His fingers were tipped in long, sharp claws and they cut into his flesh easily, blood beginning to drip. In reaction, her automatic response was to huddle her body, curving her spine towards her thighs…and she hated it. She hated how fearful, how afraid she’d become. She wondered if her own father would recognize her, if he’d still been alive.
The alien hissed when he saw her reaction and immediately took a step away, which, for some reason, shocked her.
A heavy moment of silence stretched thin between them. Cara eyed him warily, all while drops of blue blood pooled on the floor beneath his palms.
Then he spoke, his voice like a whisper of rough velvet across her skin. “Female, I will not harm you. Never. If you trust in nothing else, trust in this. I give you my vow as a Luxirian war—” he cut himself off, something crossing his expression that made Cara want to comfort him of all things. He simply ended with, “I give you my vow.”
Cara felt her heart pounding deep in her throat. Nothing would ever make her trust him completely. She doubted she could trust anyone fully again. Regardless, she felt her body release its defensive position, uncurling slowly.
After another moment of silence, Cara licked her dry lips and murmured, “Your hands will need wrapping.”
His sparse brows thinned to a line and he glanced down. He seemed surprise when he saw the blood, as if he hadn’t felt the pain of slicing into his own hand.
He simply said, “It will heal.”
Then, he reached into a pocket near his waist, retrieving a small metal tin. Cara heard something rustle around inside, piquing her curiosity.
His blood smeared the outside of the tin, but he popped open the lid and held it out for her.
“What is it?” she asked, peering down. Inside were dark, flaky rectangular chips of something, no bigger than a business card.
“Travel rations,” he replied. “Just one should fill you.”
Cara swallowed. “Just one?” Judging by the size, it looked as if it wouldn’t keep a mouse full. But she couldn’t be picky. Food was food. And she hadn’t eaten since…yesterday, wasn’t it?
As she gently pulled a flake off the small stack, he said, “Tev. It expands.”
Surprisingly, the flake was heavy. It had the heft of metal, but was soft and pliable like raw beef. Not exactly appetizing, but she asked, “You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”
The alien made a harsh huff through his nostrils that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. But Cara knew better. Looking at the almost grave lines of his face, she wondered if he’d ever laughed in his life.
“Nix, female. This will not poison you. Even young offspring can stomach this.”
Drawing in a deep breath, and with an encouraging rumble of her belly, Cara placed the rectangular flake on her tongue and chewed slowly.
Beyond a slight peppery taste, the ‘travel ration’ didn’t taste like anything. It was chewy like beef jerky, however, and saliva filled her mouth. It seemed like it had been ages since she’d chewed anything and her body responded accordingly.
Once she swallowed, she actually felt the food settle in her belly. And then…she felt it expand.
Cara’s lips parted and she found that she looked up at the horned alien, whose name she still did not know. “It’s working,” she murmured in amazement.
The sensation of fullness hit her all at once. But it wasn’t an empty fullness, like if she’d downed a few glasses of water. She felt the nutrients of the food already begin to energize her, replacing calories lost. She felt the protein strengthen her limbs and she almost smiled at how good it made her feel. Almost.
When the food stopped expanding, she felt slightly uncomfortable, like she’d just consumed a holiday dinner, but nothing that she couldn’t handle. It felt good, after so much time feeling a burning hunger.
“Do you need another?” the alien questioned, tilting his head slightly to the side. The one hanging light in their room glimmered off his obsidian black horns. Cara’s eyes gently ran from their base at his skull to the sharp tips that curved around his crown.
“No,” she murmured. “It was a little too much actually. But thank you.” She glanced at the tin, still clenched in his bleeding palm. Her curiosity got the best of her and she questioned, “What are they made out of?”
“The rations?” he asked. “I do not know the translations in your language. The Baquarians developed them.”
“Baquarians?” she questioned.
His lips turned down again and Cara found herself looking at them a little too long. How did someone who looked as rough and harsh as him have such soft, full lips?
“The fighter who took you from the Pit,” the alien started. “He is a Baquarian. Their planet is in the Second Quadrant.”
Immediately, Cara remembered her captor’s snake-like face and a small shudder of revulsion raced through her.
His voice deepened when he asked, “Did he harm you? Touch you?”
“He always stopped before…” she whispered, trailing off.
She remembered the horned alien slashing his claws at the Baquarian. She wondered if that was why the snake always stopped. Because he knew he shouldn’t be touching her, especially if she was being sold to another. But to whom? To the alien standing in front of her?
For some reason, she knew that he hadn’t been the one to buy her.
She didn’t know why. It was just a feeling.
It was a guess when she asked, “You’re delivering me to whoever bought me, aren’t you? To whoever’s money that was that you threw at the Baquarian?”
His silence was answer enough.
The rage that filled Cara’s body surprised her. Perhaps it was her renewed energy, perhaps it was because she wasn’t filled with fatigue, but she found herself shooting off the bed and approaching her newest captor. She wondered how many more she would have.
“Tell me,” she demanded. “I want to hear you say it.”
The metal tin dropped to the cracked floor as he snagged her wrists when hot fury made her swing them at his chest. The alien hissed at the contact of their skin, at the sight of her exposed hands from underneath the cloak.
Caged. Again.
Something in her broke, rearing its ugly head, and she fought against him, struggling against his iron-clad hold. But nothing that she did worked. When she tried to kick at him, he simply caught her closer, trapping her legs between his own. Every muscle in her body strained against him. Every ounce of her strength worked in breaking free. She’d bit the first alien that had tried to take her from the Pit after his successful fight. He’d wisely chosen another. Somewhere between then and now, she’d lost that woman, she’d lost that fight. And she was finally finding it again.
So she fought against him until exhaustion made her limbs heavy. She fought against him until tears burned the back of her throat, until tears dripped down her cheeks. It was the first time she’d cried since her father died. Even during her captivity, she’d never shed a tear once. It infuriated her that this moment was when her body finally let them fall.
And all the while, during this entire episode, her alien captor never once fought back. He restrained her so she wouldn’t hurt him. Then she realized that he was restraining her in a way that she wouldn’t hurt herself.
Eventually, her strength gave out. Her heart pounded a mile a minute in her chest, her body completely winded from the fight since she hadn’t exerted it enough since she’d been captured. Her muscles felt weak, underused.
And she was crying. Deep sobs racked her body as she tried to catch her breath. She was finally breaking down. This was her tipping point. Finally.
“Female,” the alien hissed. He sounded almost…tormented, which couldn’t be right. “Stop this.”
His strong grip gentled on her wrists, but he didn’t release her. It was then that Cara realized how closely they were pressed together. The entire lines of their bodies were flush with one another.
Again, despite everything, she felt that little flame of need, of desire.
Cara stilled against him. Like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over her head, that was enough to dry up her tears. She must really be messed up from her time at the Pit to feel that way about her newest captor, the most fucked up case of Stockholm Syndrome.
Panic made her rear back. Or at least try to. But he had a good grip on her still and what she hadn’t realized was that her previous struggle against him had loosened her hood just slightly.
And when she reared back, only to have his grasp stop her?
Her hood came tumbling off.
* * *
It happened just like in the tales he’d listened to as a youth. Stories that Devix had passed off as false, even though he’d listened with raptness, with focus.
Because the moment he saw the face of his fated mate, his luxiva, the one female in the entire universe that the Fates had chosen for him…it was like something snapping into place. Except, instead of a gentle snap, it was a roar in his ears. It was his blood rushing beneath his veins, his Instinct wakening fully, unfurling in his chest with a rightness that shocked him. It was his cock hardening to a point of pain and a desire that made his head swim.
But more importantly, it was a calmness. It was like his mind was saying, there you are, nothing else matters now.
Except Devix knew that wasn’t true.
His female’s face looked impossibly soft. Golden hair tumbled around her shoulders, still wet from her bath. Her wide brown eyes stared up at him in shock, little hairs fanning out from her lids that he found…mesmerizing. Her nose was small, the tip upturned slightly. And her lips…they were pinkened from her exertion, her top lip slightly fuller than the bottom.
Everything about her was…perfect. Strange, but perfect.
Just as a feeling of elation, of completeness, of lust, of contentment filled him, so did dread.
He had finally found his fated mate.
And she belonged to another male. Devix would be handing her over to Sarkon, in exchange for his peace, for his freedom that he’d begun to build for so long on Rozun.
Because Devix knew that if he didn’t return with the female in his grip, Sarkon would stop at nothing to destroy him, to destroy the life he’d been building for the last six rotations.
He had finally found his mate…and he couldn’t keep her.
His Instinct roared in mourning within him.
“You should rest,” he found himself saying, releasing her immediately. His voice was unrecognizable to his ears. He realized it was also the voice of his Instinct, of the beast inside, making itself known.
The female stumbled away from him towards the sleeping platform. Already, the short distance between them made him feel…unhinged. He stopped himself from going after her and set himself up in the small chair in the corner of the room.
Her quiet voice reached his ears. He didn’t look at her, which was the most difficult thing he’d ever done.
“Where will you sleep?” she asked.
“I will not sleep this night. Now, rest,” he ordered gruffly. His hands shook when he retrieved the tin of travel rations from the floor.
Out of his peripheral vision, after a moment of stillness, she settled onto the sleeping platform. The spike of lust that raced through him almost made him groan out loud, but he clenched his jaw so tightly it ached instead.
The room was quiet as his female tried to find sleep. She struggled at first. Every now and again, he perceived her looking at him, as if wondering if he would do anything to her in such a vulnerable state.
She didn’t trust him.
His Instinct prowled within him at that thought, but Devix knew it was for the best. She shouldn’t trust him. He was nothing more than scum. He didn’t deserve her.
Finally, he heard a slight change in her breathing pattern. Her heart beat calmed and Devix knew that she slept.
Unable to resist, he glanced over at her, lying on the sleeping platform, huddled in her dirty cloak, her gold hair fanning out around her head.
The pain of loss hit him hard. He wanted to bellow to the ceiling, wanted to rage at the Fates for toying with him so cruelly. They had truly abandoned him if they tormented him like this.
The pain was unconceivable.
And Devix knew that he was in for the longest night of his entire life span.