Chapter 9 #2
Finally, Dronzal paused in front of what appeared to be yet another featureless wall, almond eyes narrowed.
“This is the room,” she said plainly, and Lena huffed.
Dronzal touched the wall at an arbitrary spot, and they waited for a long minute.
Lena jumped slightly when the door finally opened in a whoosh of air, and she was gestured in with a tentacle. She stepped into the room, eyes darting around and taking everything in.
The size of the space surprised her; much larger than the room she had slept in. A massive, silver table sat in the very center with a hologram displayed for all to see. The walls were bare, save for red symbols that circled the entire room close to the ceiling.
There were six Threns seated around the table, all staring at her. She recognized Screl pretty quickly at his place at the head, directly opposite where she stood. A lump knotted her throat, and she swallowed hard, suddenly unsure if she should have been so eager to see him.
Screl stood slowly, making his way around to greet her as her body tensed with anxiety.
Was she in danger? Her heart was beating fast, her body electrified as if she were a prey animal being stalked by a predator.
He sauntered up to her like a cat playing with a cornered mouse, and she tried to stand her ground despite the anxiety pulsing through her.
“Look at my pretty little pet, all dressed up for me,” he said as he closed in, eyes running across the fabric which barely concealed her form. “I have a treat for you. Something to cheer you up a bit.”
Lena squeezed her hands into fists, resisting the urge to punch him. That would do little good, not with how powerful he was, though perhaps relieving some of her anger would be worth whatever he did to her afterward.
“Taking me back to Henios would cheer me up,” she said instead.
Screl chuckled, entering her space with a final step. Neither of them broke eye contact as he looked down at her, though she couldn’t quite read his glimmering expression.
“Trust me, little human. You will enjoy this.”
Before she could protest again, the door whirred open behind her, and she turned to look, her brain taking a moment to understand what she was seeing. There was another Thren, but in front of him was a human.
A human with his wrists cuffed. A human she recognized.
She whirled back to Screl, who had an evil smile plastered on his face.
“What’s he doing here?” she asked, trying to figure out what was happening.
The man from the bar, the man who’d assaulted her, was brought before them, his eyes ablaze with fury.
“You can’t do this,” he hissed at Screl, barely even looking at her. “I demand to be returned to an Alliance entity, or better yet, my fucking ship.”
Screl completely ignored the man, his focus still on Lena.
“He’s here to receive his punishment. The Alliance can be so slow to enact justice, and I thought you deserved a swift end to this.”
The man finally glanced her way, looking her up and down for a moment too long before concentrating back on Screl.
“Really? I’m here because of some cunt from the bar? I thought this was about—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, Screl slapping him so hard his head rocked to the side. The sound echoed in her ears as she looked on in horror, the man turning back and spitting blood from his mouth.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled, though she could hear the tremor in his voice.
“I am Prince Rohieth Screl, and it took such an insignificant amount of money to bribe the guards to let me take you, you may be surprised by how little you’re worth to them.”
A shiver of fear trembled down her spine, but for herself or for the man? She wasn’t quite sure. What the hell was Screl planning?
“You… you can’t do this,” the man stuttered, stumbling backward until he bumped into the table.
Screl nodded, and a Thren grabbed him, turning him and pressing his cheek into the chrome surface. Another gripped his restrained wrists, locking them to a ring on the table, before turning and nodding to Screl.
“Do you think it’s okay to touch what belongs to me?” Screl asked, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his knife, the unnerving light glowing brightly in the room’s dimness.
“What? I didn’t know she belonged to you, or else I wouldn’t have done it. You can have her.”
“That is the wrong answer,” Screl said, stepping up to the table as the man cowered in fear.
“It was just a joke! C’mon, it’s no harm, right, babe?” he asked, glancing at her with terror in his eyes.
Babe. How many fucking times had she heard that from Greg, from the men on Earth? How many times had they touched her or grabbed her and pretended it was just a joke, that she was a bitch for being upset?
“What are you going to do to him?” she asked, watching the man but speaking to Screl.
“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t touch anyone ever again,” Screl murmured, and before she could say another word, there was a flash of movement, then an ear-splitting scream.
The man howled in pain, writhing in the Thren’s grasp as blood spurted from his wrists.
Lena turned away with a gasp, clasping her hand to her mouth and trying to resist the urge to wretch, her stomach roiling with disgust.
What the fuck had just happened?
The room was dead silent, save for the man’s horrible screams, the sounds of his chains clinking against the metal table as he struggled.
A vision of severed hands flashed through Lena’s head as she slumped to the ground, pressing a finger into each ear and trying to drown out the anguished noises.
She slammed her eyes shut, as if that would transport her away from here, as if she would wake up from this nightmare back in her bed on Henios.
As the screams finally turned into moans, someone reached under her arms and hoisted her back to her feet, tentacles circling her stomach and pulling her close to a hard chest. She squirmed around to face Screl, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.
“Why did you do that?” she whispered, grateful that his large body was blocking her from the view of the human. “Station security had him in the brig. They were going to deal with it.”
“Not good enough,” Screl murmured, petting a tentacle through her hair, her body softening in his arms.
“You shouldn’t have done that…” she said, blanching again as she pressed her cheek to his broad chest, feeling comfort in hearing his strange heartbeat.
“No one touches what’s mine.”
His possessive words settled her when they should have terrified her—the act of violence more gruesome than anything she’d ever witnessed. Good God, she was really losing it if she thought that what he’d done was anything other than horrific.
And yet, she found herself wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling herself in tighter, as if she didn’t want to let go.
“It’s alright, pet,” Screl cooed, lulling her into his peaceful embrace.
Suddenly, there was a touch at her chin, the tip of a tentacle tilting her face up to meet his unblinking gaze.
He leaned down to get close to her face, cupping her cheek with a hand, and before she knew what was happening, he was pressing his mouth to hers, the warmth filling her immediately, like a switch had been flipped.
Fingers tangled in her hair as two tongues prodded at her lips before plunging past them and filling her mouth pleasantly. Long and wet, they were unlike anything she’d felt before, running along her teeth and tongue and sending repeated tugs of arousal to her center.
Screl was bent low enough that she could circle her arms around his neck, hugging him closer as tension slithered through her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and all she could think about was how she wanted more, needed more, needed those tongues all over her body.
Needed his hands and his tentacles caressing every part of her, entering her, filling her.
When she came to her senses, it was like she’d been hit with a splash of cold water, and she pushed against his chest, trying to put distance between them.
Screl pulled away with an odd look before releasing her, forcing her to stumble back into Dronzal. His chest rose and fell in rhythmic waves with the same desperate need that had overwhelmed her, still overwhelmed her despite the revulsion that tried to supersede it.
Tears burned her eyes, horrified by what had just happened. By what she’d just done, as if a man wasn’t lying in agony on the table behind Screl. Would they get him medical treatment? Or had he really been sentenced to death for merely touching her?
She was disgusted with herself, trembling as Dronzal guided her from the room, trying to fight the bile bubbling in her throat.