Chapter 9
Lena opened her eyes, yawning deeply.
What a strange dream.
She reached over for her console, but it wasn’t on the side table. Where had she put it? She always left it in the same spot before she went to sleep.
All at once, she realized she was being watched.
She shot straight up at the sight of a Thren sitting in a chair at the other end of the room. Gripping the blanket tightly across her chest, she realized that she was still fully naked from last night, her pajamas missing.
Last night.
The shower. The ship. The kidnapping.
Bolts of fear coursed through her as her breathing sped up, and she began trembling.
Screl was watching her, head cocked to the side. Those blue eyes glimmering, radiating between bright and dim, but wait…
No. It wasn’t Screl. It was a different Thren.
This one was smaller and leaned more blue than gray, their skin almost mottled compared to the uniform color of the commander. The Thren continued to stare, hands gripping the arms of the chair and tentacles slowly undulating.
A female, Lena was pretty sure of it.
“You are awake,” the Thren said, standing up and approaching the bed.
“Who are you?”
“I am Dronzal Qidrex,” the Thren answered, as if that explained anything.
Her voice was like Screl’s, but higher pitched, though it still had that sonorous, infiltrating quality to it, like it was everywhere, all at once.
Dronzal’s eyes continued to roam across Lena’s face and blanketed body. With the covers pulled up to her chin, Lena tried to stop the deep-seated panic from building, though she was certain the female would rip off her blanket at any moment.
“Where is Commander Screl?” Lena asked, her voice only a little shaky.
“He is working. Once you are dressed and fed, I will bring you to him,” Dronzal replied, again with no sense that she would explain further.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, causing Lena to scurry as far to the other side as possible. Her tentacles reached forward, stopping short of contact, and she cocked her head again, though her gaze didn’t waver.
Slow, curious blinking.
Lena glanced around, wondering what she was supposed to do. Calming her breathing was the first step. Screl obviously had a weird infatuation with her. He wouldn’t send in some other Thren to assault her while he was at work, or whatever he did with his time.
“I need to go back to Henios.”
“That is for the commander to decide.”
Lena took a deep breath and scooted herself closer, holding fast to the blanket around her chest.
“Please. I need to go home. I don’t belong here.”
She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she reached for the Thren. Dronzal shrunk away, retracting her tentacles and quickly darting from the bed.
“That is not my decision,” she assured, shaking her head.
Lena awkwardly climbed out of the bed, continuing to clutch the blanket to her chest. It dragged along the ground as she followed Dronzal. Every step she took toward the Thren resulted in a mirrored step away.
Was Dronzal… scared?
“Take me to him,” Lena said, eyes furrowed in a dark glare when she finally cornered the female against the wall.
Dronzal unsuccessfully tried to make herself smaller, and when Lena reached out, she recoiled again.
Fear… she was scared. Lena gripped a tentacle, the rubbery cylinder warm to the touch, soft and slightly slippery. She could just wrap her entire hand around the breadth.
Dronzal’s eyes grew wide, wider than she’d seen on any Thren before. She made a low groaning sound, and Lena furrowed her brows, her mind racing. Was that a fear noise, or…? She quickly released the tentacle, appalled by her own behavior.
A low hum reverberated through the room as Dronzal glowered, eyes narrowed and tentacles quivering slightly. One actually brushed itself against the spot that she had touched, like the Thren was checking for wounds or something.
Lena stood there with her arms crossed as she waited expectantly for a response. She wasn’t sure if she had crossed a line, but she didn’t really care at this point.
“I will take you to the commander soon,” Dronzal grumbled. “Do not touch me again.”
There was anger in her voice, tinged with fear. Surely, a puny human didn’t scare her. No, it couldn’t be that. It must be Screl that she dreaded.
“Fine.”
Lena looked around the room, not seeing any obvious closets or storage. All the walls were a smooth, gray metal with no indentations or markings at all, save for the two doors, one leading to the bathroom and the other to the rest of the ship.
“I need something to wear.”
Dronzal scooted around her and moved to one of the empty walls. She pressed an unseen button, and a door retracted upward into the ceiling.
With a flick of two tentacles, she gestured to the opening, and Lena peered in, making sure her blanket still covered her bare body. She ran her hand along the soft fabrics, surprised by the mix of pastels and jewel tones. Much cheerier than the drab combat gear that all the Threns seemed to wear.
On closer inspection, Lena realized what was wrong with all of these garments.
“I can’t wear this stuff. I’m not one of Screl’s escorts,” she said, glaring back at Dronzal.
Wait, did Dronzal really just give her blanketed body a once-over? If this were a species that had eyebrows, Lena was sure she would have raised one.
“This is the clothing that he has provided.”
Lena rolled her eyes and turned back to the closet. Every item had some fatal flaw. Too sheer, too short, too low-cut, and on and on. She grimaced at her choices.
This guy was a real pervert, but did that surprise her?
“How many escorts has he had on the ship?” she asked, flipping through the items once more, hoping to find the least skimpy garment.
“He has had many. Commander Screl is… fond of human females.”
A pang of jealousy stabbed Lena as she imagined all the beautiful women clad in these scanty gowns.
The thought of Screl’s tentacles petting over another tingled her skin with flames, and she huffed as she finally selected an outfit, a chiffon navy dress that had at least a few layers of fabric and looked like it would fit her.
How many women had worn it before her? And how many would wear it after he got rid of her?
Emotion clenched her throat, and she swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry.
“Turn around,” she said, motioning with the dress she held in one hand.
“I am not interested in human bodies,” Dronzal replied, her eyes not wavering.
Lena waited a few more moments and groaned. Apparently, all Threns were perverts.
She turned her back and dropped the blanket before she could think twice. Her body tensed, fearing an attack, though logically she knew the Thren wasn’t likely to touch her. She scurried into the dress, hoping it would cover something.
It was form-fitting, her small breasts practically spilling out of the bust. Still, the ruffles counteracted the sheerness of the fabric, and the long, billowy skirt hung loosely from an empire waist, hiding her curvy thighs and butt enough to satisfy her.
One could probably see something if they squinted hard enough, but this was as good as it was going to get.
Dronzal was still staring as she turned back around, head cocked to the side. Her tentacles shivered… with fear? Excitement?
As usual, Lena had no clue.
“I will take you to Commander Screl, but you must eat first,” Dronzal said, and a moment later, a door whooshed open and another Thren entered.
This one carried a tray of what Lena assumed was food, setting it on a small table before promptly exiting.
Dronzal sat down and beckoned her with a tentacle, forcing her to roll her eyes again.
She supposed that her stomach was grumbling quite a bit, and it would be better to confront Screl after eating something.
“It looks like human food,” she said, sitting and eyeing the spread of toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon, her mouth watering.
There was even a steaming pot of what smelled like traxaccino sitting next to a delicate cup.
“Commander Screl knows what humans eat.”
Of course he did. He’d had plenty of women here to feed his perversion, and she was no different. He’d kidnapped her because he wasn’t used to losing, wasn’t used to people saying no to him.
Begrudgingly, she piled food on her plate, eager to get this over with so she could speak with the commander. The sweet, bitter bite of traxaccino invigorated her, driving away the drowsiness and exhaustion.
Dronzal continued to stare, and it was getting old
“Don’t Threns eat?” Lena asked between mouthfuls.
“We do. Though your food is not particularly appetizing to us.”
“Really?” Lena picked up a piece of bacon and waved it near the Thren’s nose. “Doesn’t this smell good to you?”
Dronzal turned away, eyes blinking rapidly.
“No, it does not.”
Were Threns vegetarians? That didn’t make much sense with the sharp fangs, but species often evolved past whatever initial diets they consumed.
Lena ate the rest of her meal in silence, standing up when she was satisfied.
Dronzal followed her lead, though stepped around her as if trying to avoid her grasp, hastening to the door and pressing another unseen button.
She walked through the opening without waiting, and Lena hustled to catch up.
She still wasn’t wearing any shoes, but decided it was best not to complain.
The floor was cold on the soles of her feet, though the air in the hall was warm and humid.
The walls were the same as those in the room, shiny metal with no obvious indentations or controls.
It wasn’t even clear if there were any other doors until she saw one pop open suddenly as they passed, a surprised Thren stepping out and then right back inside upon seeing her.
Were they all scared of her?
Dronzal led Lena through the maze of corridors, pressing seemingly random spots on the wall to open doors to other hallways when needed. She couldn’t figure out how the Thren did it. Some sort of internal sensor?