My Bubble Babes uniform hits the floor and I dive in before he finishes. The water is heaven. Liquid rebirth. My muscles unclench for the first time in years. I quickly melt into Mae soup.
“Is the temperatures suitable, Mae?”
“Perfect,” I sigh, head tipped back against the tiles.
“Excellent! I will inform Warlord Mekkra that you’ll join him shortly.”
“Wait—no?—”
But he’s already gone, the door shutting with a too-final hiss.
I already told him I wasn’t going to dinner, so I’m not sure where he got the idea that I’ll ever willingly dine with that creature. But I’ll admit that I’m a little less afraid after Starcroft’s admission.
I don’t think I’d get out of this tub unless I was dragged by the hair, kicking and screaming. The only thing that could make this better, besides the obvious of never having been abducted at all, wouldbe a glass of wine and something smutty to read on a Kindle.
It’s probably best to keep my wants down. So instead of dreaming about what I don’t have, I’m enjoying what I do.
I ball the flimsy gown up under my head and let my body float up to the surface.
I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until the bathroom door whirs open.
Disoriented, my head slips, the gown sliding with me. The wet fabric tangles around my arms and face, dragging me under. I push off the bottom, but?—
A massive hand clamps around my wrist.
I’m yanked from the water like a hooked fish and slammed onto the cold tile.
I cough, water flooding my nose, clawing at the fabric smothering my face. I’m naked, drenched, gasping?—
And when I finally rip the wet fabric off my face, I'm staring up at him.
Warlord Mekkra looms over me, dripping steam from his armored back spines, eyes burning neon yellow with fury. His gaze drags over my body—slow, assessing, hungry in a way that terrifies me more than drowning.
“It has been two hours,” he bellows, voice like a collapsing star. “And you are not even dressed.”
I curl in on myself instinctively, trying to cover bare skin with the soaked dress.
“Our food has long gone cold. And I am tired of this—THIS—absolute disrespect.”
My mouth opens and closes. Smart Mae would shut up. Compliant Mae would nod.
I am not Smart, nor Compliant, Mae.
“You fuckingboughtme,” I say, low and lethal. “I will never, ever respect you. You’re no better than any slaver. Even if you treat me like a pet, even if you don’t rape me—Starcroft said you won’t—you’re still scum.”
He inhales sharply. The air trembles as he scrapes his claws on the wall behind him.
“Put the dress on,” he growls, his restraint ice-thin, “and come to dinner.”
“I’d rather starve,” I hiss as I narrow my eyes.
His pupils flare, his fists clench—and I swear a drop of blood falls to the tile.
“SO STARVE THEN!” he roars. The sound shakes the steam.
He storms out, leaving heat and anger billowing behind him like smoke.
And I lie there shivering, wet and naked on dark tiles, realizing two awful things:
