Chapter 8
Lena stirred, a peculiar lance of fear stabbing through her chest despite the sleeping pills attempting to drag her back to the dreamworld she’d been living in just a moment ago.
The dim light from Botune filtered in through the window as she tried to blink the drug-induced sleep from her eyes, her heart thumping in her chest like a drum.
There was a presence hovering over her, and when she flipped onto her back, a scream ripped from her lips, a shrill sound that echoed up to the high ceilings.
In an instant, the presence wrapped a tentacle tightly over her mouth, silencing her.
“Shhhh, little pet, you’ll wake up the entire station,” a voice said, cutting through the dark of night and boring into her bones.
A voice she recognized.
Screl.
Was she dreaming? Lena blinked rapidly, as if the Thren caging her to the bed was an apparition, a hallucination caused by meds which were supposed to help her sleep. But he didn’t disappear. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he brushed another tentacle through her hair with a wide grin.
“So peaceful when you’re sleeping, when your mind is empty of all the worries that hold you back from getting what you want.”
What the hell was he talking about?
Lena pushed her palms against his chest, as if that would do a damn thing against the overlarge alien. No, all it did was make him chuckle, and he lowered himself so she could feel the press of his body, not quite crushing her, but close.
Even as icy dread coursed through her veins, she felt her body warm to his touch, tension coiling in her center as if his attack was turning her on.
It was turning her on, arousal pooling between her legs at the power he held over her. Just as quickly, shame coursed through her at her body’s visceral reaction to an act that should have been horrifying. Screl had somehow found his way into her locked quarters without any alarms going off.
What did he want? Was he going to hurt her? Punish her for rejecting him?
Lena screamed again—though the sound was muffled—scratching at his shirt and trying to scramble away. In a flash of tentacles, her arms were restrained above her head, her entire body contained in just a few seconds.
“I quite enjoy you like this, all tied up and helpless,” he said, letting out a hissing laugh as her eyes widened. “But only for me.”
With a monstrous grin, he hauled her off the bed, wrapping his arms and tentacles around her and dragging her to the door. Panic tensed her entire body as she attempted to hold her ground, but he pulled her along as if she weighed nothing.
The corridor was empty at this late hour, and Lena found her voice, letting out a bloodcurdling scream that echoed off the chrome walls. Terror rattled her bones as Screl silenced her with a tentacle, wrapping it tightly across her mouth and making it difficult to breathe.
Lena looked at Screl, her eyes wide with desperation and panic. Struggling was pointless—his tentacles and arms ensnaring her with ease—so she stopped the muted screaming, trembling in his grasp.
“Stay quiet,” he hissed, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder.
Hot tears rolled down Lena’s face, and she tried to stop herself from wailing, pressing a hand to her mouth to muffle the whimpers threatening to come out.
Her stomach roiled, and she felt like she was going to be sick.
A tentacle brushed back and forth along her legs as the others held her firmly in place.
At some point, they went through a dark entryway, and she realized they were on a ship. The air was different, less filtered than on the space station, and a subtle musk replaced the familiar metallic smell. Humid warmth enveloped her.
After another minute, they entered a room, and Screl placed her on her feet. Lena quaked violently, her legs threatening to give out at any moment. She tried to gasp in a breath, but it was as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs.
Screl’s steady arms led her to a chair, and she slumped onto it, grateful to be off her feet. He knelt down in front of her, crouching low so his four eyes gleamed directly across from hers.
She needed to focus on breathing, one in and one out. Over and over.
He’s going to kill you. He’s going to fuck you and then kill you for daring to defy him.
Lena trembled, fear mingling with the adrenaline that had been pumping through her veins as she looked into his serpentine eyes. She couldn’t stop her body from shaking, an uncontrollable shiver making her bones quake despite the warmth in the room.
What was he waiting for? If he was going to force her, why didn’t he just get it over with?
“Lena…” Screl said, and she jumped, frightened by his voice.
“Why didn’t you just leave me alone?”
He didn’t answer, just twirled a tentacle around her neck, the suckers attaching to her skin and a sense of calm engulfing her.
As the seconds ticked by, her breathing softened, slowly returning to normal.
Relief flooded her body, like a warm blanket draping her in its comforting embrace.
Her vision was fuzzy, and she finally shut her eyes, wondering what she had even been worried about in the first place.
It was all a bad dream, and she needed to go back to sleep. She was home, in her bed on the station.
The station.
Her bed on the station.
The station…
Lena’s eyes shot open, her adrenaline pumping once again.
“What are you injecting me with?” she gasped, struggling against Screl’s tentacled grasp.
“I am not injecting you with anything. Merely giving you a muscle relaxer through dermal contact. It will help reduce your anxiety.”
Screl continued to observe her as she unsuccessfully fought against his strength. He was acting like this was no big deal, like he hadn’t just invaded the privacy of her quarters and abducted her from Henios. He reached out to brush her face, and Lena let out a chilling scream.
In an instant, he shifted his grip, his hand tightening around her throat instead.
“Stop yelling,” he growled, his tentacles wrapping tighter around her arms.
Screl didn’t squeeze, but the threat was clear in his voice.
“Let me go!” she said, and he slid a tentacle over her mouth, cutting off her pleas.
No matter how much she tried to squirm, it was useless. She was useless. Screl could do whatever he wanted to her, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
“Stop yelling,” he said again, his face mere inches from hers.
Heat radiated from his body as his eyes bore into hers. He lessened the pressure of his tentacles, and she took in a big gulp of air, but remained silent. Finally, Screl let go of her arms and neck and stood up, scrutinizing her.
Lena was still shivering, oscillating between horror and hatred. Screl wasn’t just an asshole; he was a dangerous asshole. He’d kidnapped her in the middle of the night, and who knows if she’d ever get to go home.
She leaned forward and held her head in her hands, sobbing audibly. Every muscle in her body was weak, exhausted from the fruitless fight and the sleeping pills and whatever the hell this monster was injecting her with.
All she had wanted from Henios was… connection. Friendship. A fresh start away from all the pricks she’d known her whole life. And here she was, in more danger than she ever had been before. On some asshole alien’s ship with no idea what he would do to her.
Screl let her cry for a few minutes, as fear gave way to despair.
Eventually, he reached down with his tentacles and softly brushed them against her hair. He rubbed her neck and shoulders, sending a soothing warmth through her body, and again Lena felt herself drifting off despite the horror of the night.
She accepted his touch, too tired to fight again.
Screl scooped her up in his arms and carried her to a smaller room. It appeared to be a bathroom, similar enough to the one in her quarters on the station. He gently set her down and used his tentacles to unbutton her top, sweat gluing the fabric to her skin.
Lena wanted to scream again, wanted to protect herself, but the fatigue was overwhelming.
Her heart raced as he removed her shirt skillfully with the tips of his tentacles and pulled her pants down.
She was going to be sick, her stomach twisting painfully as Screl nudged her back into a clear box in the corner of the room.
Was this where he was going to force her?
Deep inside, beyond the disgust and anger and dread, there was still a spark of arousal at the thought. What the hell was wrong with her?
She didn’t want this, did she?
Instead of following her into the cramped space, Screl fiddled with a metal panel on the wall, and suddenly warm water was spilling from the ceiling.
The heat was comforting, flowing over her hair and down her body, taking a bite out of the chill that had inundated her since she’d awoken in her quarters to a presence in her bed.
Screl’s eyes glowed unnaturally despite the dim light of the room, flashing over her body, and he seemed to tense all of his muscles, his hands balled in tight fists at his sides. Even the tentacles appeared to freeze for a few moments, ceasing their sensuous rippling.
Lena scrubbed her body, never taking her eyes off Screl. But he simply watched her, the surge of the shower the only sound in the small room.
What did he want from her? Was he turned on? Angry? Happy? It was impossible to tell.
After a time, she stood silently, arms crossed over her chest, the soothing shower quelling some of the panic that threatened to bubble over.
Screl pressed an unseen button, and the water ceased.
He pressed another, and warm air surrounded her, whipping her hair around just like her shower back at the station did.
Back at the station.
Where he had abducted her from.
There were cameras in the halls, weren’t there? Someone would know she was missing. Her pulse quickened, dread icing her veins as all the possibilities coursed through her head.
And suddenly, the warm air was gone.
Lena flinched as Screl took a tentative step toward her, his entire body contracting as he paused his movement. Goosebumps prickled her skin, despite the warm humidity of the ship, and she continued to watch him warily, too scared to even blink.
Screl was almost in the shower, eyes ablaze.
His arms were at his sides, but his tentacles were writhing, reaching out for her.
He took a big step forward, and Lena shuffled back until she pressed against the wall of the shower, the metal chilling her bare skin.
She crumpled her face, squeezing her eyes shut and willing this all to be a horrible dream.
A tentacle wrapped around her neck, snaking up her face and rubbing over her lower lip. She stifled a whimper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, though the touch sent an electric jolt through her body. Tears burned at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
“Open your eyes, pet,” Screl whispered, inches from her face.
His large presence encased her, and she willed herself to push straight through the wall, even if it meant dying in the vacuum of space. The tentacle caressing her neck tightened, but only slightly. She could still breathe, but felt a clear pressure, a warning.
“You are mine, Lena. You will obey me.”
She opened her eyes slowly and turned to face him. There was a dark promise in his gaze as he stroked her cheek.
“Good girl,” he cooed, the words vibrating into the very marrow of her bones.
She accepted his embrace then, unsure what else she could do. They walked back to the larger room, a powerful arm around her waist and tentacles tangled with her arms and upper body.
Lena noticed the enormous bed now as Screl led her to the edge of it and urged her to sit. Fear threatened to course through her again as she looked up at him. He could do whatever he wanted to her; he had said as much at Ochin’s.
But what did he want?
Screl circled two tentacles around her head once more, brushing her hair with that familiar soothing motion.
It felt like her brain was getting whiplash.
One moment he was violent, threatening to hurt her, and the next, he was caressing her face and gazing deeply into her eyes. His intentions were jumbled, confusing.
The room looked eerily similar to what you’d expect in a human’s quarters. She found it hard to believe that Threns showered and slept in the same manner as her species, but remembered what Ochin had said.
Screl enjoyed bringing his human escorts back to his ship. Was that what she was now? His escort?
Lena felt another prickle of anxiety, but tried not to let it wash over her.
As he petted her, Screl was careful not to move his tentacles below her collarbone, oddly respectable after everything else he’d done.
Still, there was a hunger in his eyes as his blue-gray appendages circled her head and neck.
He hadn’t ravaged her yet, so maybe that wouldn’t happen.
The word escort did imply consent.
She grew weary, her limbs heavy and eyelids drooping. Screl pushed her legs onto the bed and pulled a blanket over her, wrapping her tightly. She was certain he would get in beside her, but he just lightly touched her cheek once more before stepping away.
Lena’s eyes shut as she saw him exit the room, unable to hold off sleep any longer.