My chest knotted with a feeling I didn’t want to delve into too deeply.
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t explain further. He just waited, in that unhurried way of his, like he had all the time in the world and no particular need to fill it.
“I’m not an animal,” I said. It came out softer than I’d meant it to.
“No.” He reached out and tucked a damp strand of hair away from my face. His thumb grazed my cheek once, just barely. “You’re mine.”
He held out his hand.
I took it. I told myself it was practical. I told myself the decision had already been made for me, and spending energy fighting it was just waste.
I thought about what it might mean to bekept close.
I followed him out of the bathroom and into the closet.
It was quite extravagant.
He dressed himself first in a black pair of cargo pants. He pulled on a shirt and stepped up onto a small circular platform. Immediately, a bright spotlight illuminated him, and I watched in fascination as his outfit transformed into a hard armored sheath. Light blue digital indicators flashed and when the glow finally dissipated, I shivered with an icy chill as I took in the reigning commander of the alien forces.
Fitted metal plates encased his massive form. He moved with ease, and I quickly realized that it wasn’t metal, but some other material that shone just like it with enhanced flexibility. I didn’t know what the capabilities of such armor would be, but I had to guess it was probably bulletproof as well as knife-proof and all the other things you’d expect from battle gear like it.
I wrapped the towel around myself a bit closer, unable to quell how unsettled I felt at the sight.
He offered his hand, and I wasn’t left with any choice but to take it.
“Drop the towel,” he commanded.
Even though he’d already seen me naked several times, it was hard to drop the protective barrier of the soft cloth. He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes and the image of me over his thighs was enough to make me open my hands and let it fall to the floor.
I felt my face heat as he stepped closer to me. I could feel his gaze on my body and that only made my flush deepen enough to be more than noticeable. To his credit, he said nothing as he guided me onto the platform. The warmth of the light above me was soothing and I trembled a little as it glowed across my skin.
Slowly, threads began to come together and cover my flesh. They were a multitude of colors, but when it started to weave together, I could see that it was a royal blue fabric with silver and gray etching on the edges. It swept and hugged at my body until the light finally dimmed.
“Simply breathtaking,” he praised, and I hazarded a glance in his direction to see if he meant it. Unexpectedly, the expression on his face seemed genuine. There was no wisecrack or mean words that followed and that took me aback.
He approached me and lifted a small round stone to the base of my throat.
His movements were slower than usual. More intentional. The tips of his fingers brushed against my collarbone as he positioned it, and I felt the warmth of his hands even before the metal touched my skin. He held it there for a moment, and when I looked up, I found him watching my face rather than his own hands.
His expression gave me pause. It was almost like he was being careful. Maybe even ceremonious.
He tapped the stone once.
A silver band expanded in a smooth, cool ring and settled against the curve of my throat. I reached up immediately, fingers searching for a clasp, a catch, anything really. There was nothing. The metal was seamless and fitted perfectly, as if it had been made just for me.
I supposed it had.
“This will denote to all of my people that you belong to me,” he said. His voice was quieter than it had been all morning. “It will only come off with my permission.”
My fingers stayed pressed against the band. It wasn’t tight. It wasn’t painful. It was smooth, faintly warm from wherever he’d kept it, and impossible to remove.
“What does that mean?” I asked, in spite of myself. “That I belong to you.”
His expression shifted, growing darker, more possessive.
“That you are mine,” he said. “Not the city’s. Mine alone.” A pause. His thumb traced along the outer edge of the band, just above where it met my skin, and my breath caught before I could stop it. “You will want for nothing, Raiza,” he continued, almost as if reassuring me.
I stared up at him as I gritted my teeth.
