Chapter 39
Osta’s plans went ahead. The missiles were packed aboard the warbug, and they set off to rendezvous with other warbands in the predicted path of the Royal Swathe. The rolling, thumping gait of the craft again took a while to adapt to. They had enough food, and Ari had made herself a useful member of this warband, as had JI.
Even the jaggs became accustomed to bringing some of their kills back to the warbug for the Scavs to cut up and cook. Without them bringing in extra meat, rations would’ve been scarce.
They were heading for a war, and that made Ari fearful.
The days went past, and each day, at a time Sawyer set, she would go to him and climb on his lap, or sit at his feet, or obey other instructions he might give her. Most of these times they talked. She never made herself come without permission...which was a terribly obvious admission of her own interest in this predicament he’d created.
Not being allowed to come often left her wanting and squirming, made her lower abdomen ache, because he’d deliberately take her to the very edge of orgasm, and leave her there, mindless and gasping.
Even so...she found she liked her visits. Partly because they talked, partly because his wish to control her, his need for her to visit him – and she did see this as his need as much as hers – it made her feel nurtured and as if she was indeed not alone.
Alone. He’d made her see it as what it was – a way to hide. It stood out like a red sign on a long, deserted road to nowhere.
The talking...
They talked about Osta and his war on the Mekkers. About people. About how she’d gained her mechanical skills. They even talked about her, as he termed them, anti-dick powers. That it was rooted in fear was obvious. He was the only man who had overcome it and that both amused him and had made him more curious about her.
She didn’t quite understand why, but it had. He liked the challenge, he said.
Hmmm.
His anger at her and his past aims for revenge were touched upon. That he elaborated on those when he had her pinned on his lap while he spanked her and fingered her was ironic and annoying.
They were in a small bunkroom with a bed and this leather-upholstered seat that nestled against the wall. Anyone who wanted some privacy could ask to use it. Though a simple room, it had become their place to go to for these talks. Talks and whatever else he decided was the fun for the day.
Fun, she saw this as fun...so very telling.
He was twisting her, but she liked it. Did that matter?
He leaned over her, hand resting on her too-warm butt. “Since I won you as a result of my revenge, I can’t complain.”
“Not yet,” she dared to murmur, while contemplating on how nice the pain had become, now it settled into her, like hot rain. He hadn’t won her yet.
He chuckled and slid fingers inside her, stretching her entrance painfully until she hissed and clawed her fingers at the upholstery. “Why do you think I have you come to me daily?”
She hated this. Answering questions about his manipulations of her seemed horribly intimate, even more so than his fingers. “Because...” She sighed, trying to ignore the building sensations. “Okay, why, Sir?”
“Roll over.” He removed his fingers from her pussy and helped her turn until she lay on her back. He tucked his arm beneath her thighs then toyed with her hair while smiling in that devious and slightly evil way. That smile was him in one gesture.
“Every moment I have with you, every part of you I handle and fuck and caress, I’m claiming you. Bit by bit, morsel by morsel, I’m claiming you.” He took her hand, raised it and bit her fingers, one after the other. Then he added, quietly, “Soon, you won’t know what to do without my touch on you or my words in your head.”
“Such arrogance, Sir.”
“You like it.”
Gods, yes, she did. Ari shivered.
They talked about the jaggs, and about how he might find Fern if they could unearth some information about her on the Royal Swathe. She empathized with him. For him to be so sad over his sister was terrible, tragic.
Talking was such a simple thing, and it nourished a part of her she’d lost since childhood. She’d forgotten how to talk to people and enjoy their company, especially men. She’d become a loner in the midst of hundreds of slaves, guards, employees, because she’d wanted to be.
Sawyer still scared her at times. She knew what he was capable of, but he was determined to show her his better, more just side, and she began to wonder if he was falling in love with her.
Strange, to think that.
Her? Love was difficult to contemplate when her partner was this man.
Even now, his favorite daily activity when she arrived was holding her over his lap and spanking her.
Sawyer was claiming her...
Revelations about herself were on the menu all the way to the Royal Swathe.
What he did to her, said to her, it was impossible not to melt.
It was just...
Just...
That he wanted her to be his slave at the end of this.
She still didn’t want that.
She accepted she wanted him and wanted to be his. Dearly wanted this.
But the impossibility of reconciling who she was with Sawyer’s need for a slave tore at her.
Tears came to her most nights.
They reached the gathering of the warbands – a small army hiding in the shadow of the Royal Swathe, and she had her first argument with Sawyer that she actually won – even if it was because Osta came down on her side. If Sawyer and JI were going into the landship so was she. Her mech healing and manipulating abilities might be crucial.
Sawyer might’ve given her the dirtiest look, but she was going.
So much for being his slave...