NOT BROKEN
Queen of Kings - Alessandra
Kookaburra
Days blur and I’m once again as bored here as I was at the facility. There’s nothing to do and my psychos keep treating me with kid gloves. It’s tedious.
And I’m horny.
What’s the point in having six boyfriends if not one of them will give me what I need? I don’t know if it’s the abduction or the pregnancy, but I need to make them realise I’m not broken. I won’t break.
I wander around the bathroom, my mind consumed with a restless energy. My heart beats in anticipation of something more than the monotony that surrounds me. The weight of my situation presses down on me, but I refuse to be suffocated by it.
As I pass by the cracked door, I catch a glimpse of my six psychos gathered together, talking in hushed tones. A surge of frustration courses through me. They think they can tiptoe around me, handle me delicately like a fragile doll. But I am anything but fragile.
Taking a deep breath, I pull open the door to the room where they are, my gaze meeting each of their startled expressions. I stand tall, unyielding, refusing to be belittled by their pity.
“I’m not broken,” I declare, my voice steady and unwavering.
Letting the towel fall to the floor with a soft whisper of fabric, I stand there, naked and unapologetic. Their eyes widen, flickering with surprise and uncertainty as they take in my defiance. The air in the room crackles with tension, a palpable electricity charging the space between us.
“I’m not broken,” I repeat, my voice unwavering, a fire burning in my eyes. “I won’t break. I need you to see that.”
Silence hangs heavy in the room, their gazes darting between each other as if seeking reassurance or permission to respond. But I don’t need their approval. I stand my ground, a warrior in the face of their hesitation.
Finally, Honeymonster steps forward, his expression a mix of concern and something else, something I can’t quite place. “We never thought you were broken, Kayla,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. “We were just giving you time.”
I hold his gaze, searching for any hint of deception in his words. Honeymonster’s eyes reflect a sincerity that momentarily softens the hardened walls I’ve built around myself.
“I don’t need time,” I reply, my voice unwavering. “I need to feel alive again. I need to feel like more than just a victim of circumstance. I need to know that what we have is real.”
His expression shifts, his pupils dilating as his gaze sweeps over my naked body. He steps closer, close enough that I can feelthe heat radiating from him. The others remain silent, but their breathing has changed – deeper, heavier.
“I don’t want anyone’s pity,” I continue, letting my voice drop to a husky whisper. “I want to be touched, to be wanted.”
There’s a moment of electric tension before Bones moves behind me, his fingertips grazing my bare shoulder. “We want you, Kayla,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “We’ve been holding back because?—”
“Because what?” I challenge, turning to face Bones, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. “Because you thought I couldn’t handle it? Or because you thought I didn’t need it?”
His eyes meet mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “Because we didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he admits, his hand moving from my shoulder to cup my cheek. “We didn’t want to be too much, too soon.”
I lean into his touch, closing my eyes briefly before opening them to look at each of my psychos. “You’re all idiots if you think you could ever be too much for me,” I say, a smirk playing on my lips. “I’ve handled worse than you and come out stronger.”
Ghost, standing off to the side, lets out a low chuckle. “She’s got a point, you know,” he moves closer, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and lust. “Maybe it’s time we stop underestimating you, Kayla.”
I feel a surge of victory, a thrill that races up my spine. This is what I’ve been craving – the raw, unfiltered connection that reminds me I’m alive. I reach out, my fingers brushing against Ghost’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my touch.
“Maybe it is,” I murmur, my voice laced with challenge and invitation.
The room seems to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation.
Honeymonster is the first to close the distance, slow and deliberate, stopping just in front of me. He doesn’t touch yet – just lets his presence loom, warm and solid, his gaze roaming over me like he’s committing every inch to memory.
Bones stays behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him at my back, his chest a steady line of strength and restraint. One hand settles lightly at my waist, not claiming – anchoring.
Ghost drifts in from my left, unhurried, eyes dark and curious, his fingers brushing my arm as he passes like he can’t quite help himself. Snow mirrors him on my right, precise and controlled, his touch brief but intentional as his hand rests at my hip, grounding rather than demanding.
Nightshade doesn’t crowd me. He steps in just enough that when I lift my chin, he’s there – waiting, watching my face, his attention sharp and absolute.
