Chapter 4 #2
He turns, and his eyes find mine. There is something in them I cannot place.
I have cocked my chin up to watch him without realizing it. I drop my head at once, not daring to meet his gaze.
He scares me.
He lifts the bag.
I bounce as the leader begins walking.
In front of us, branches snap and undergrowth is forced aside. Arrek is forging the path ahead.
The severe one follows behind us with my bag. He has looped its strap around the same belt that holds the hilt of his Orb-Blade, leaving both hands free.
His eyes search the forest as he walks, continually moving between the trees. Even here, on Colossus, the heartland of his species, he seems as though war has never left him. Waiting for some threat to appear. A battle to begin.
There is no eagerness in him, yet one hand remains close to the hilt of his Orb-Blade, ready to draw and activate it with his mind.
An overgrown path appears beneath us, almost swallowed by the forest. Uneven cobblestones emerge through the weeds, worn down and sunken, moss filling the seams, nearly reclaimed by the forest.
I know this path, but I rarely come this way. I avoid the places where the old paths cross the river.
They narrow every possible escape to one exposed strip of stone.
I hear the water rippling below as the path carries us over a stone bridge.
The forest remains dense on both banks, its branches reaching over the river and casting the bridge into shadow.
Beyond the bridge, the path widens.
Only then do the trees begin to thin. The last fading light breaks through with every step until the final trunks fall behind us and the rolling hills open around us.
Pale moonlight reaches the ground as we clear the trees. I’m carried steadily up the rolling hills before the estate, hills that used to teem with wildflowers and grazing game. Now broad swaths of wild grass have been cut into ordered lawns.
The severe one falls a few paces behind us, walking slightly sideways so he can keep as much of the land at our backs in view as possible. The cold moonlight catches on his exposed marble muscles, giving him a spectral glow. He looks towards the trees again.
Twenty paces from the forest, the wind changes, blowing downhill.
Cold air slips beneath the blanket, lifting it against my back and raising gooseflesh along my exposed feet.
The wind catches my scent and carries it straight towards him.
His nostrils flare.
He turns towards me, and his slate-grey eyes roll back. The muscles across the exposed half of his chest cord beneath his marble skin, thick veins rising along his neck and forearms.
His cock throbs and pulses beneath the white robe, surging upright until the enormous length strains the damp cloth obscenely away from his body, as thick as my forearm.
His jaw locks. A heartbeat later, his eyes clear, and he forces himself to continue walking.
Whatever control he shows on the outside, he is just as savage underneath.
He only hides it better.
I put my head down, watching the ground pass beneath me, trying not to think about that obscene weight straining against his robe.
I feel the leader’s back expand beneath my breasts as he breathes in.
Another fresh wave of humiliation burns through me.
They can smell every betrayal of my body.
Past the severe one, the forest grows smaller behind us, my freedom receding with every step. The leader’s body is warm against mine, and the cold buried in my bones finally begins to ease.
Arrek’s footsteps, almost imperceptible over the grass, sharpen into the hard strike of his combat boots against rough-dressed limestone.
A moment later, the leader’s boots strike the same stone beneath me.
He carries me forward across the terrace until I know we have reached the gate, then shifts me more securely against his left shoulder.
His back moves beneath my breasts as his free arm lifts.
Arrek takes a defensive position beside us.
The severe one closes the distance behind, still watching the forest. Their enormous bodies block every open path around me.
Instinct tells me to fight, to kick, to wriggle and try to get free, but the weight of his arm is immense, and I know all I would get is a red bottom and three Aurelians descending into the Mating Rage from the dark pleasure of punishing me.
They still haven’t claimed me...
And I need to find out why, if I want to come out of this place without being ruined by them forever, if I want to end up as more than a pleasure toy they keep inside, never to leave the walls again.
A second passes. Then a low vibration travels through the limestone beneath us, followed by the grind of stone against stone. The leader starts forward again. Arrek and the severe one follow, and the gap behind them begins to close.
The forest narrows between the slabs until it is gone, replaced by an unbroken wall of pale stone.
I remember all the years I spent trying to breach these walls.
Throwing a rope towards the top, only for it to slide back down.
Striking the smooth limestone with my climbing spike, searching for the smallest crack.
Scrambling against it and finding nothing to grip.
I spent years trying to find a way inside. Now I have the sick certainty that I will never make it past these walls again.
The leader carries me deeper into the estate, his boots continuing to ring against the limestone.
Water laps softly to my left. When I turn my head, moonlight flashes across the long, dark surface of the pool, its far end disappearing around the side of the house before his stride carries it behind us.
Arrek’s footsteps pull ahead again. A heavy latch lifts, followed by the groan of wood swinging inward.
Warm air reaches my bare feet before the leader carries me across another threshold, bringing with it the intense, overwhelming scent of burning wood and tender roasting meat that instantly makes my mouth water.
He crouches until my feet touch the pale limestone floor, then slides me from his shoulder and catches me beneath my arms before my knees can buckle.
The blanket begins to slip down my back.
I seize both edges and pull it high across my breasts, clutching it closed beneath my chin.
The bottom reaches only to my knees, leaving my calves and bare feet exposed.
The leader steps back and slightly to one side once I am steady. Arrek takes the space to my left, between me and the doors, while the severe one stands to my right near the hearth. They leave room around me but no open path out.
Thick white-stone walls rise around me beneath dark heartwood beams. Deep-set windows hold the black reflection of the room. A low fire burns inside a broad hearth, its light warming the rough limestone to gold.
I search for the source of the scent as my stomach grumbles.
Three fat ducks turn slowly above the fire, their skins brown and crisp. Rendered fat gathers and falls from them, each drop landing with a sharp sizzle in the enormous cast-iron pan beneath. Thin slices of potato overlap inside the pan, their edges crisping in the duck fat, darkened with spices.
I cannot drag my eyes away. Each fresh hiss of fat against iron makes my mouth water and the empty ache inside me twist harder.
Then I see the cage standing in front of the long dining table, and every thought disappears.
Sudden fear spikes through me. Even the hunger vanishes.
Two dark scuffs cross the pale limestone floor beneath it, marking where the table has been dragged deeper into the room.
The cage is made from dark heartwood, large enough for me to stand upright.
Its bars are spaced widely enough for one of their enormous hands to reach through, but too close together for me to squeeze between them.
Fresh brown shavings curl across the floor. The axe from this morning rests beside them.
I recognize the dark grain.
This is what Arrek made from the tree I watched him cut down, hours before I ever ruined their harvest.
They have been planning to keep me here.
Inside the cage, a folded fur and two pillows wait beside a shallow stone water bowl. A narrow collar rests on top, its leash coiled beside it.
The cage door is open.
I freeze and stare up at the three men surrounding me.
Three pairs of slate-grey alien eyes stare back.