I force myself to look at him, attempting the most petulant expression I can think of (I channel Fiona for this).
He stares back, unmoved, and inside I crumple. My lip quivers and I hope he doesn’t notice that, either. I wish, more fervently than ever in my whole life, that I could just shut up.
He brings my hands together and encloses them both in his grasp, before reaching to the side. He picks up the sedative and places it in my hands.
I grasp it, since letting it fall would only mean it would spill all over me.
My hands are still covered in blood.
“I want to get this blood off,” I say, remembering my idea about bargaining. “If I drink this, I mean.”
I think I see the faintest glimmer of a smile on his lips. But if I did, it’s gone too quickly for me to be sure. Against the side of my body, I feel a vibration.
It’s a growl, and it’s all he has to say on the matter.
I give up. I’m happy not to hear my own mouth saying something flippant as he moves my hands closer to my lips.
Then he releases them.
“You are in no position, Anya Mann, to make demands. You are in a position to obey, or to be disciplined. Until you obey.”
Another throb of my pussy makes my face redden. Somewhere in the hard contours of his muscled thighs, beneath my legs, I can feel his manhood—at least, I assume that’s what’s there—twitching, engorging. If the reports coming back to me from my tingling, numb-hot skin are to be believed, his cock is an impressive, almost monstrous size.
Intellectually, I feel bitter about this. What a sicko, getting off on spanking a helpless girl.
It would be a lie, however, to say that my body, and possibly the darker parts of my mind, is reacting the same way as my intellect. The ache between my legs is only fueled by the sensation of his hard cock against my tailbone.
A flurry of very dirty thoughts goes through my head, which I try to suppress.
I look at the sedative. Now that I’ve gone through all the trouble of refusing it, I realize it’s an appealing option. I was resisting it because I thought maybe I could escape, but I can see that escape is—at least for the moment—impossible. We’re on a ship, and I don’t know how to pilot anything but a T-class escape vehicle and a landing probe.
Now that I think about it, I’m very tired, anyway.
I tip the liquid back into my throat. He takes the glass from me.
“How long’s this supp… osssss… ed… toooooo… laaasssst…?” I say. I turn to look at him, thinking this is really a question I should have asked earlier. For purely medical reasons.
I feel so relaxed that I lean against him. A sense of well-being is coming over me, even though I’m trying to fight it. I put my arms around his neck, like he’s some kind of big teddy bear, and doing this gives me a sense of comfort like none I’ve ever known. I rest my head against his shoulder.
On his neck, one of his markings has become as bright as a light. I move my right hand to it, and touch it with my fingertips. It’s hot, pulsing, silky, and scaly all at once. “You’re glowing,” I say at the same time.
Holy hell. I’m as high as my mother at a wedding for one of her female rivals.
When my fingers touch him, the marking seems to come alive, and not just at his neck, but everywhere.
“Whoa,” is the last thing I hear myself say.
And then it’s lights out for Anya.
CHAPTER5
Anya
All I can see is white when I open my eyes. My mind is as blank as this whiteness for a while: I have just gotten an incredible sleep, and that’s something that hasn’t happened for a long time. It’s the only thought in my head for a moment.I’m finally over my space-lag.
This warm, content feeling lasts a few minutes. I haven’t felt this rested in years. No inter-system travelers do: it’s like all of the relative time lost in space travel, unaccounted for, gets sucked straight from the sleep cycles of your body and mind.
I sit up suddenly, seized by panic, as the entire ordeal preceding this great sleep floods my mind, all at once, one big wall of bloody, violent water.
