Chapter Three

Lyrie

 

 

“H e can fuck me,” I said as the cat’s snarl faded.

I took a strange satisfaction out of the collective gasps that rang through the room. What? Did they think I didn’t see the opportunity here?

Would’ve thought Khal was sharp enough to get it all on his own, though. I shrugged. Oh, well.

This wasn’t about him or me or getting pleasure out of this situation. This was about survival, not him or me or us.

And it sure wasn’t the first time I’d been asked to produce something others could harvest.

“I have a few conditions before I give my cooperation, however,” I added in the ongoing silence.

Hartlin stiffened, his uniform tightening across his shoulders.

Hate didn’t even begin to describe my feelings for this man.

“You’re in no position to make demands,” he said, his nose nearly pointing toward the ceiling.

Gathering the few scraps of energy left inside me, I stalked toward him, enjoying how he flinched backward before holding himself still.

I was one puny human. Did he really think I could harm him?

Interesting that he feared me, however. Perhaps I could use this to my benefit in the future.

“I’ll fuck him three times a day, if that’s what it takes,” I said, then deepened my voice. “I know you want a produce this…Thing. As soon as possible. But you might remember I like to fight. And Khal will not find me easy.”

Hartlin swept his fingertip down the newly-formed scab on his cheek—a wound he’d received courtesy of me and a sharp piece of slate tile I chipped up off the floor. His curt nod was followed by a narrowing of his eyes. “Humor me. What are your demands?”

I inched closer to him and Smithton, whose eyes widened. His fingers tightened on his laser pistol’s grip, blanching as if he worried I’d snatch it from the holster, put it to his head, and blast his brains all over the nearest wall.

Not a bad idea, actually.

Tapping my chin, I acted like I was pondering possible requests. But they really didn’t need my cooperation to make this happen. They could pin me down and let Khal have me however and whenever he pleased.

Assuming Khal was that kind of guy.

He’d been nice to me. So far. But I’d long since learned to reserve judgment when it came to men. And the Regime.

“I want the cameras shut off in this room,” I said, glancing toward the nearest units placed strategically high in all four corners. I’d wiped shit on the ones in my room the first night they’d dumped me inside. They’d beaten me and tied me in the corner before they replaced the cameras, mounting them where I couldn’t reach.

Hartlin grunted. Not quite consent, but it wasn’t outright denial.

Smithton grumbled. Revealing himself as the true voyeur. Could’ve guessed it anyway, by the way he’d salivated when they stripped me, hosed me down, and then stuffed me into my Regime-sponsored prison outfit right after catching me and dragging me into the compound, weeks ago.

“And I want something covering the window in the door,” I added, stepping closer to the hall. A distracted guard held the door wide with the side of his foot. “Despite your implication, I’m not easy and I do not put on a show.”

Hartlin said nothing.

Smithton glanced at Hartlin and stiffened his spine, as if he hoped to appear as intimidating. He notched one narrow eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“I get to pick when he does it.” Never, if possible.

“And it sure as hells won’t be in cat form, either,” Khal said.

When Hartlin shuffled his boots, no doubt drumming up a snide reply, I jumped. Threw myself at him, ripping and clawing and screaming. Adding more brands to his evil face. Along his neck. The patch of hairy chest revealed by the opening at the top of his uniform.

Feral, they’d called me, after the first time I broke.

If only I could rip out his purple eyes and feed them to him, one at a time.

Clinging to him as he stumbled, I reared back and slammed my forehead into his.

Hartlin moaned and hit the doorframe with his shoulder, falling sideways.

I leaped off of him, racing through the open door, knocking the guard aside.

As I ran down the hall, freedom sang through my bones. My heart floundered in my chest, unused to this activity. My arm was killing me, but I shoved the pain aside as I gathered speed, darting for the first corner.

A blast of light was followed by a stabbing thud in my back. I stumbled, unable to catch my breath.

Unable to remain on my feet.

I crumpled to my knees, my good palm hitting the tiles.

When momentum pulled me forward, I smacked down, my head colliding with the stone floor.

Everything went black.