Of what the shot made me become.
Of how Ibegged him.
He’s so still, and so silent, I can only hope that maybe he’ll just leave. Back away and vanish into the dark, and we can pretend none of this ever happened.
But then, the alien beast moves.
He was fast, faster than I would assume something of his kind could be. His hand is on my arm,and I’m being yanked to my feet. I can feel his claws. His grip on my arm is so damn tight, but they don’t pierce my skin.
“Let me go.” I sob, my voice cracking.
He doesn’t answer me, just flexes his jaw, the muscle twitching under what I now know is a mane. That low rumble from earlier is louder, deep and furious. It’s not aimed at me, but I can’t promise it isn’t because of me.
He yanks me up and out of the room. We stop somewhere in the hallway. He presses a hand on the wall and wrenches me forward.
“If you want distance, you can have it!” The alien roars as he pushes me through. I try to dig my heels in, but I’m no match for his strength, and I just topple over myself. He looks down at me, the disgust clear as it dances over his face.
He punches the wall, and the door snaps violently shut.
“Stay,” he commands through the door. “You’re safer in there.” The words shake with restraint, like he’s holding himself together one syllable at a time.
I press my palm against the cool metal of the door, and I don’t even know what I’m begging him for when the “please” falls from my lips.
But there’s no answer, just the sound of his claws scraping sharply against the other side. Then, fading footsteps as he retreats down the hall.
That’s when I notice that I’m shaking, and I run my hands over my biceps, even though I know it’s not the cold causing me to have this reaction. That somehow, I’ve gone from one dark cell to another.
I know what the warlord wants, and I know my survival might depend on whether I can give it tohim…I just don’t think I can. I’ve given up so much since my abduction, and I don’t think I can give up the one thing I’ve got left—my body.
CHAPTER FOUR
I haven’t moved from the spot the warlord threw me, and I feel stupidly frozen as the lights hum on overhead. That same artificial red glow washes over everything—harsh, bloody, like it’s trying to warn me I shouldn’t be here. I twist on my ass and finally take in the room. I didn’t realize how large the space actually is. Where I sit is only the vestibule.
It feels…alive.
My brain short-circuits for several seconds before it can process what I see. I’ve been in space so long that “alive” isn’t a category anymore. I only know metal, plastic, diodes, holograms. But one entire wall is covered in thorny vines that look like they’d bite back. Their purple leaves unfurl from tightly curled shoots into broad, flat fans dripping with condensation. Tiny misters whisper out droplets like the plants are being kept on life support.
In front of that—an actual sitting area. Bulbous armchairs, a chaise lounge, all arranged around something round and metal. If not for the fact that there’s some kind of aperture blade on the flat surface of its top, you might assume it was a brutalist stylecoffee table.
Across from that, under a domed window staring straight into nothing but endless, predatory space, is a massive circular bed. The view is obscene in its beauty: a slow-turning asteroid tumbling past, galaxies purpling and blueing in the background. The bed could fit five humans easily, maybe more depending on leg length.
A real bed…not one of the cramped metal bunks that I used to share with the other women.
Despite my current I-might-die situation, I can’t help myself—I dive face-first into the plushness. The mattress swallows me whole. I haven’t felt anything soft since Earth, and my body practically moans at being held by something that isn’t a hard bunk or a metal grate.
I roll on my back, gaze drifting up—and my good feelings evaporate instantly. The reflective ceiling stares back, making it very clear what this bed, what this room is for, whatIwas purchased for.
I curl my arms around my mostly exposed body—dissociating like a damn champion—and completely miss the faint whir of something floating up in front of me.
“What the fuck?” I yelp, scrambling toward the head of the mattress as a droid rises into view.
“Hello, human,” the droid says in such polite tones I get emotional whiplash. “Welcome to Warlord Mekkra’s stronghold.”
He’s…two metal balls stacked vertically, basically. One beach ball sized, one soccer ball sized, connected by a black tube that bends like a spine. His round “eye screens” flash an animated, upturned expression that looks almost offensively cheerful.
“Um, hi,” I mutter, inching sideways.
“Hello!” he says with the gusto of a children’s show host. “I’m very pleased to meet you!”
