He finished speaking in their language.
This time the growl came from Rychor, she was sure of it. She had no idea what the two beings were exchanging between them, but the tension was building in the room, as palpable as a severe change in air pressure.
This intense moment caused a stir in the auditorium, and Sonya closed her eyes, wishing for the first time that she’d listened to Kat. Rychor and the other Ryvokia were still “speaking” to each other, but the speaking was disintegrating into growls.
And then, very suddenly, the entire things was over. The Ryvokia who had come to touch her growled and strode away, back to where he had emerged on the “stage,” and the others began leaving, filing out of a door at the back of their seating area.
Rychor stood behind her. Without looking, she knew he was there and expected his hand exactly where it came to rest on her tender skin. He placed his hand on her right flank and held it there, massaging gently and very slowly, until the last of the audience left. He unhooked her arms, and she let them drop to support her.
The platform sank slowly back down to the floor, and the restraints on her ankles retracted. She remained as she was, knowing that she would have to file out on all fours to be walked to wherever Rychor was taking her, without him saying so.
CHAPTER10
His blood was up, coursing through his system with such force that he could feel the pressure throughout his entire being. It had begun to boil during Sonya’s punishment, as soon as he saw Choarn’s interest pick up and his eyes focus on Sonya with singular intensity—the kind Rychor knew well.
He had managed to make her punishment look good for the crowd, even if he had needed to go a little harder than he had wanted to. Sonya had not immediately understood his intentions—which was understandable, because he didn’t understand them entirely, either.
But that kind of playacting wouldn’t last forever. Choarn would only be fooled once by it. And if Sonya didn’t give her consent, Afina would order more of the same—because it was effective at stimulating her, and there was no denyingthat. And because failure was not an option for them.
Success was not an option forhim.Even less so now that he had seen Choarn’s intentions, now that he had felt the rage that it caused him when the big brute had fondled Sonya so ineptly. His blood had gone from boiling to pure fire at the sight of Choarn’s fingers probing the human.
Their eyes were on her everywhere. He could see the interest brewing behind them, and the mistrust that glimmered behind their eyes if they dared to look at him. Not one of them could possibly understand why he would be conflicted in any way; they only saw a viable mate, and then they felt desire. Like Choarn.
He was grateful, in some ways, that Sonya had held out for so long, and that her bottom was bright red, so that he could have the excuse of taking her to the waters. Where they could be alone.
But what was he going to say to her? If she was broken down, and she gave her consent, he would have to mate with her promptly. If he told her not to consent, he would have to continue to break her in according to Afina’s wishes, and if she consented and he didn’t take her as his mate, Choarn had already expressed his desire to fulfill that function.
Hewantedher. He wanted her for his own, to feel his organ inside her small, hot body, coated in the sweet-scented lubricant her pussy produced. When she orgasmed, his own pleasure receptors were as stimulated as though she had squeezed his seed from him with the insides of her body. His member ached, and his internal seed gland was distended and painful, screaming at him to deposit his seed inside her.
But if he did that, it was the end of all pleasure for him: she would be whisked away to the gestarium pods, her baby delivered, and her mind wiped clean of all memory of him. He would live on with his empty longing until the end of his days.
Once they passed through the outer doors and entered the cave, he paused, feeling the tentacles of the Ryvokia shared mind withdrawing, setting him free. He looked down at Sonya, who was waiting with what seemed like patience, shifting her weight from side to side.
“Stand up,” he told her.
She cast her eyes upward at him, over her shoulder. He was no expert in human facial expressions or emotions, but she seemed quite livid with him. She rolled back to her calves, though, and pushed herself up to standing. Her hands went behind her back, her fingers seeking and tracing the welts left by the whip.
“Come,” he said, experiencing something he rarely felt: hesitancy, some doubt about what he was about to say. He had to lead her, and she didn’t say anything to him. A knife of pain squeezed from his seed gland and dispersed into his bloodstream as he led the disappointed female to the waters.
She stopped short of where he did and planted her feet. He tugged at the leash, looking back at her, but when he met her eyes, the knife twisted and he was made miserable anew.
“Sonya,” he said.
She flushed when he used her name. He couldn’t be certain, before, if it was pleasure or not. Now he was even less sure.
He pointed at the waters. “Enter,” he told her. “You will feel better.”
“Riiiight,” she said, and his sensors registered the human tone of “sarcasm,” and alerted him to it. Sarcasm was strange. The humans used the tonal structure when they offered an opinion that was the opposite of their true sentiments. None of them had been capable of explaining the purpose of this tone, however.
Sonya shook her head. “I’m not falling for that again.”
“You have not been tricked,” he responded immediately. “The waters will heal your flesh wounds.”
She sniffed and shook her head again, but her eyes were on the water, and it was clear that she was thinking something. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked back at him.
“How?” she shot at him.
This wasn’t expected, so for a moment he was taken aback. Then, as so many other of this particular human’s quirks had done to him, he sensed his pleasure receptors lighting up.
