Chapter 7

“…And then he said he’d watch him die again,” Trixie recounted with ghoulish gratification.

Lishelle scrunched herself deeper into the cushions of the sunken couch in Rayna’s suites while Trixie finished repeating everything Nor and the duke had learned. The guys had marched off earlier to find Idrin, the bounty hunter, leaving the three Earther girls to hash and rehash the details of their abduction.

Minus the hash, sadly. She could’ve really used some mood-altering substances right now. But not alcohol, which would make her morose. Or caffeine, which would make her jittery. She had both of those symptoms going on already.

She’d slept with their abductor. Not just slept with him—snuggled with him. And enjoyed it. The last man she’d snuggled with had been her husband. And look how that’d turned out. She couldn’t even blame Stockholm syndrome.

She would blame Tynan. Blackworm. Whatever. He’d lied to her.

Except… Nor had told Trixie that despite the corroborating DNA test, he’d been almost swayed by the story of the God of Beloveds.

While Trixie had been talking, Lishelle had read the legend on her dat-pad. There were dozens of tellings; it was a popular storyline in Thorkon media. She wondered what Tynan would think of the musical version. He did have a voice that would be perfect for singing. Like the rest of him was perfect…

She pushed down that wistful thought like she was hiding something embarrassing in the couch cushions.

Rayna said, “Lishelle?”

She jerked her head up. “What? Sorry. I was reading.”

Lips quirking faintly, Rayna tilted her head. “What are the ethics of punishing someone so obviously unbalanced?”

Lishelle closed down her dat-pad; there was nothing more to learn there. “On Earth, we’d talk about minimizing harm, maximizing the potential for meaningful rehabilitation, weighing it all against the social need for perceived justice.”

“Perceived,” Rayna murmured as she reached for her tea. Some mild grassy tea since none of them had wanted pixberry after hearing the story of the blindfolded wanna-be brides.

“We don’t always get what we want,” Lishelle said, as if that would come as a surprise to her friends. “We don’t even get what we think we want.”

“I wanted to destroy Blackworm,” Trixie said fiercely. “For taking us. For sacrificing those women we never knew. For shooting Nor almost to death.” She sucked in a sharp breath as if to hold back that memory, but the extra oxygen of that inhalation only inflamed the hostility in her hazel eyes. “We did destroy him. Sent the dreadnaught right into the singularity with him aboard. So how is he back here?”

“Exactly how Blackworm told you,” Rayna reminded her. “The virtual particles in the blackbody radiation that escaped the event horizon became a manifestation of what was perceived as lost to the singularity. Now we have that manifestation locked up in the station brig.”

Lishelle blinked at her. “You’ve been doing some reading too.”

“When I’m not doing wedding stuff.” Rayna tried for a grin, though it faltered. “I guess it’s pretty special that an actual god returned to our dimension to bless this union.”

Trixie grumbled under her breath. “I don’t see how he went from torturing girls and being forbidden to ever touch them again to giving blessings.”

Squirming deeper into the cushions, Lishelle wondered if that was her fault. Had letting him touch her somehow…changed the virtual particles that had manifested as this strange interdimensional amalgamation of a warlord/felon/god?

“I fucked him,” she blurted out.

Rayna stared at her, and Trixie froze with her tea cup poised at her agape mouth.

“When I thought he was just the cleric,” Lishelle continued miserably. “Oh God, that doesn’t sound much better, does it?” She keeled over on the couch, hugging one of the cushions to her belly.

Where he’d left a handprint of golden pollen.

She’d squeezed her eyes closed, so she startled when a gentle hand settled on her head.

“It’s not your fault,” Trixie soothed. “You never saw him.”

Lishelle kept her eyes closed so she didn’t have to see her friends’ scandalized expressions.

As she hadn’t ever seen Blackworm.

“I could’ve,” she whispered. “There was one chance I could’ve seen him. But I hid.”

Trixie’s petting hand stilled. “When he abducted you?”

She shook her head, dislodging Trixie’s touch. “I was taken before either of you.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I’ve been gone from Earth for more than three years.”

The cushions at her curled feet sank. “Oh, Shel,” Rayna murmured, rubbing her back. “I didn’t know it was so long. Is that why you decided not to take the memory wipe and return?”

“Partly.” She wanted to push Rayna away; she didn’t deserve the other women’s sympathy. “The transgalactic council’s relocation specialists would’ve had to create an elaborate excuse for me. Or a new life. Not that there was much of a life for me to go back to. My ex got everything in the divorce—the house, the professional contacts in DC, our friends. And I gave it up willingly just to get away. I figured I’d make something else, something better. And then…” She slammed her hand down on the couch—to little effect on the luxurious cushions—and pushed herself half upright.

“Then Blackworm,” Trixie finished for her.

She nodded. “His mercenaries had already taken several women before me. I woke up in the back of something like a cargo container, bouncing around. We’d all been stunned, drugged, just scared, I don’t know. Everyone looked like a zombie monster and I was so confused. I didn’t know who to trust.”

Rayna swallowed audibly. “By the time he got to us, he’d refined his snatch and grab technique. I had maybe half a second of panic and then, pop, into stasis.”

In some ways, would that’ve been better? More helpless, but more blameless too.

“They kept us in the dark, but they’d throw us pouches of watery food occasionally. And there was an incineration latrine that wasn’t meant to keep up with so many…” She averted her face. “They’d open the container randomly, sometimes to feed us, but sometimes…to take one of us. And we’d never know which it was. Run to the front to grab the food—there was never enough—or run to the back to avoid being grabbed ourselves.”

“I hate him so much,” Trixie hissed. “I mean, I hated him before, but now…”

With effort, Lishelle raised her gaze. “Then you can hate me too.”

“No,” Rayna soothed.

But Lishelle shook her head hard, the curls she was growing out for the wedding lashing at her shoulders. “I was the last one left. Out of all those Black Hole Brides”—her lips drew back in a remembered helpless snarl—“I was the best at guessing: grab the food or get grabbed. All my studies, graduate school, invitations to think tanks and one presidential advisory council… None of that mattered. I was just strong enough and fast enough to get to the back of the bus, out of the way, when Blackworm wanted another sacrifice.”

“No,” Rayna said firmly. “You are not allowed to feel guilty about saving yourself.”

Lishelle arched one eyebrow at her. “Would you like to debate the ethics of that?”

“No,” Trixie repeated. “Because all that reading and talking doesn’t know the truth, what it was like. We did what we had to do.”

“Apparently I had to sleep with our jailer.” Lishelle groaned and let her head thump to the back of the couch.

“Okay, yeah, that’s awkward.” Trixie blew out a hard breath and swiped one hand over her head, ruffling the blonde waves. “But if he is partly a god who made hundreds of women fall for him even when he was mortal, that’s not your fault either.”

Lishelle forced out a laugh. “I just wanted a date for the wedding.”

Her friends hugged her from either side, and after a tense moment, the stiffness melted from her muscles. She’d told them the horrible secret, the horrible things she’d done to save herself. And they weren’t judging her. Or at least not as harshly as she judged herself. “What do I do now?” she whispered. “How do I go on?”

“This is our new life,” Trixie said fiercely. “The universe is vast, and we told ourselves we could do and be anything we wanted with this new chance. Maybe that’s not totally true, maybe the past stays with us, at least a little, but still, we’re going to make this chance count.”

Lishelle eyed her wearily under half-closed lashes. “And how many chances do we get?”

“As many as there are stars in the sky,” Trixie said with conviction.

“As many blessings as there are Thorkon gods,” Rayna added.

They cuddled together, taking turns speaking haltingly of their experiences in a way they hadn’t in all the time since their release. In some ways, Lishelle thought, facing Blackworm again was making them face the trauma they’d wanted to forget. But now that Rayna was marrying her duke, and Trixie was shacked up with her spaceship captain, they could look back at what had happened through a distancing lens, as if peering down the wrong end of binoculars so what was close seemed farther away. Their time as helplessly imprisoned Black Hole Brides was at an end. The only thing holding them back now was their own nightmares.

Well, holding her back. Her friends seemed to have moved on happily.

With the sturdy, studly help of a couple sexy aliens…

Oh, so not going there again.

When Raz and Nor arrived—Nor carrying two large buckets of what he said Cook claimed was chocolate ice cream that needed to be taste-tested, even though Lishelle was pretty sure he was just trying to distract them—she sidled away from the little group clustering at the galley kitchen counter.

“Shel,” Rayna said. “Come tell us what you think.”

She thought a part of her might still be locked away in that shipping container, all alone after the last victim but her had been hauled out screaming. She forced herself to smile. “I’m kinda beat. I think I’ll just go back to my suite.”

The duke pushed back from the counter. “I’ll escort you.”

“Totally not necessary,” she said politely. Totally not wanted.

“Please,” he said.

Since when did dukes say please? She glanced at Rayna, who curled her lips inward, leaving the choice to her.

After a moment, she nodded and said her goodnights to the others.

As she and the duke stepped out into the hall, she glanced up at him. “What did you want to tell me?” Since it wasn’t like he really needed to walk her back to her room.

Clasping his hands loosely at his back, he didn’t pretend not to understand. “I asked Nor to assign security to your suite.”

She swallowed and fell into step beside him. “Do you think that’s necessary?”

His lips curved. “You might be braver than me, but…I’d sleep better if you’d allow it.”

She wasn’t going to be one of those dumb girls who turned down a bodyguard.

Maybe the bodyguard would be hot. Maybe he’d be her date to the wedding… She restrained a sigh.

Instead, she said, “Tynan—Blackworm is locked up. What are you worried about?”

“He hired mercenaries who might still be interested in collecting their payments,” Raz reminded her. “And someone helped him escape from the penitentiary.”

“Maybe you should turn him over to the bounty hunter.”

“About that…” Raz ducked his head toward her. “Nor and I discussed it, and we’re hesitant to attract the wrong sort of attention to the station’s launch as an interstellar resort.”

She snorted. “Yeah, knowing that the neighborhood wormhole spits out gods and murderers makes it harder to enjoy the exotic cocktails.”

“Since Rayna is giving up her primary entitlement to the station by marrying me, you’ll have final say in how we want to handle this situation.”

She almost stumbled over nothing. “I thought Nor was in charge of station security.”

“He is. But by Thorkon right of salvage, you outrank him here.”

She was silent, considering, and they arrived at the door to her suite before she had an answer. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m still…processing all this.”

He inclined his head. “Of course. Blackworm is confined for now. And it’s not like anyone else will be taking scenic tours of the brig, so we have some time to decide.” He watched her for a moment, his royal blue eyes somber. “It’s taken awhile for Rayna to share with me, in bits and pieces, everything that happened to her. But I’ve had to tell her several times what I will tell you now. She kept saying she should’ve done something different, something more to stop or change events.” He frowned. “Leaving aside the fact I would never have met her otherwise—a fortuitous twist which I assure you is one of the reasons I’ve hastened this wedding business—and ignoring the questionable physics of ghosts returning from black holes, I’ve told her what’s done is done and can’t be changed. What we do next—”

Lishelle held up one hand to silence him, and he trailed off. “I appreciate it,” she said. “Honestly, I do. But I just need a good night’s sleep.”

And since they weren’t particularly close to any sun, she could just pretend the night would never end.

Raz dipped a short bow in her direction. “Very well.” He gazed past her. “And your security is here. If you’ve need of anything…”

She gave him a wave and turned to see a very stocky Thorkon woman approaching. Lishelle restrained another sigh. While she appreciated the linebacker look in guys, she apparently still hadn’t found a date for the wedding. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said. “Go back to your bride. I’ll be fine.”

“Goodnight, Lady Lishelle.”

When he strode forward to speak with the bodyguard, Lishelle slipped into her suite and locked the door behind her.

She hadn’t been lying to him about wanting to crawl into bed for the rest of the night. Just too bad the bed reminded her of a certain interdimensional warlord.

Yeah, it was going to be a very long night…