Chapter 12
Lena awoke with a start, running her fingers along the soft sheets as her eyes adjusted to the room.
Her room. She was back in bed, alone, though a Thren sat in the corner, watching her.
Dronzal.
The prickle of fear faded, though her body still flushed with the memory of last night, how desperately she’d pleasured herself and how Screl had done the same with his tentacles.
Pressure welled in her chest, and she couldn’t decide what made her skin crawl more—that he had a power over her that she had no hope of stopping, or how much she wanted it to happen again.
Without a word, she slipped out of the bed, hurrying to the bathroom.
“Is everything alright?” Dronzal asked from behind the door as Lena removed her dress, trying to take deep, calming breaths.
“Yes. I’m going to shower.”
That must have appeased the Thren, because Lena heard no more as she fiddled with the controls until the water was the perfect temperature.
The heat calmed her, at least a small amount, and she tried to focus on the sensation of water streaming down her body instead of the way she wanted to cry because Screl wasn’t here.
Why the fuck was she so hopelessly obsessed with that monster?
He’d violated her in a way she could never forgive, and yet all she felt was elation as she thought of last night, of him holding her against the wall and forcing her to come on his tentacles.
He had been gentle enough, but she knew he was holding back, and a sick part of her craved more, wanted him to unleash everything on her.
Depraved thoughts, indeed, after all he’d done, ones she tried to force away as she dried herself and headed back to the bedroom.
Lena dressed in a new outfit, a low-cut, silky red number. She smoothed the fabric over her curves, enjoying how it hugged her belly and hips. The low-cut wasn’t too terrible, though her breasts were making their best attempt at escaping.
Screl wanted her to stay in the room today, Dronzal informed her over breakfast. No, she couldn’t see the commander, and no, there was no way to know when he would return.
After satiating her hunger, Lena lay in bed for a long time—tempted to read another holonovel, but thinking better of it—before growing bored and pacing the room.
Dronzal remained silent unless she asked a question, watching her closely but never uttering an unnecessary word. Eventually, Dronzal clicked through some barriers on the console, allowing them to watch an Alliance news station. Boring, but better than nothing.
Better than erotic holonovels.
Later, Lena rested, zoning out but not asleep. She was tired of waiting for Screl, and no matter how she begged, Dronzal wouldn’t let her leave the room.
When the door whooshed open suddenly, Lena sat straight up, knowing it could only be one person.
Screl prowled in, causing Dronzal to jump to attention. Lena did the same, standing on the opposite side of the bed. There was the familiar metallic ringing of laughter, which had a pleasant melodious quality despite the clear ill intentions.
“My beautiful little pet,” Screl said with a thunderous growl.
He’s mocking you. Your uneven breasts, your wrinkles, there’s no way he finds you more attractive than all the escorts who’ve slept in this bed.
Reflexively, she crossed her arms, trying to cover some of her bare chest. The quiet laughter continued as he stalked over, leaving her nowhere to run.
Screl wrapped a tentacle around each of her arms, pulling them to her sides and holding them there so he could enjoy the unimpeded view once more.
“Do not hide yourself from me,” he growled as all four of his eyes meandered over her.
A third tentacle brushed her cheek, then traced a sensuous line down her neck and toward the center of her chest. Despite how much she wanted to hate him, there was a comforting warmth that spread from the touch.
Had she already gotten used to the strange Thren, no longer cringing at the rubbery appendages? Had she ever cringed at them?
“You wished to have a job, right? Well, tonight you will be serving drinks to my officers.”
The growing warmth turned to an icy chill as his words sank in, though she tried to remain calm. Surely there was no ulterior meaning to that, was there? Look what had happened to the human who’d grabbed her ass. There was no way he’d let anyone touch her like that.
“Oh, and what does that entail?” she asked as he released her, though his hand reached out to grip her own.
“There is a barrel of Thren ale ready for you to serve,” he said, pulling her toward the door as Dronzal followed. “That is all. My officers are better behaved than the humans on your space station.”
She didn’t want to be reminded of the handless privateer, but Screl’s assurances relieved her. Evidently, she wasn’t about to be passed around like some sort of group sex toy.
He said nothing more as he led her down the hallway, her heart pounding in her ears despite the relative simplicity of what he was asking.
A part of her would much rather be alone with him, though she supposed he was doing this because it was what he thought she wanted.
Just like he had thought she’d wanted a man’s hands to be cut off for simply touching her.
As if reading her mind, Screl turned and smiled down at her, giving her hand a squeeze.
“I want you to be happy here.”
What did that even mean? He’d given her no choice, and yet he wanted her to be happy about it? If this were just about sex, wouldn’t he have given up already?
Of course, it’s not just about sex. It’s about power. He doesn’t care about you. He’ll dump you like everyone else as soon as you give in, as soon as you let him fuck you. Or else, he’ll get tired of waiting and take you whether you want it or not.
Lena sucked in a breath, trying to push the thoughts aside and focus on getting through one thing at a time. As they stood in front of a silver door, she reminded herself that no one was allowed to touch her. She wasn’t a sex pet, but a bartender. All she had to do was smile and deliver drinks.
If she played along, would it be enough for him to let her go?
She doubted it, but no part of her wanted to be on his bad side.
Screl pressed a tentacle to the wall, the door whooshing open with a burst of air, and he gave her a gentle nudge, forcing her into the room. She glanced around wildly, trying to put on a smile, but probably failing to look like a normal, happy human.
There were a handful of officers, each one of them raking their gazes over her like a medical laser scanning for injury. Dronzal hustled past her and Screl, grabbing a gleaming silvery tray with mugs of Thren ale from a table and bringing it to her.
Lena dutifully took it, balancing it carefully and waiting for Screl to take one. He gave her a smile when he did, nodding to the rest of the Threns, some seated and others mingling about the room.
With a deep breath, she made her way around the dimly lit space, trying not to trip over her dress as she offered a drink to each officer.
All of them took a mug and were eager to converse with her, much like many of the customers at the bar, excited for someone to listen to them.
Some of them complained about not being able to return to Botune, and she realized that it had to be because of her.
Why else would Screl avoid returning to his homeworld?
When her tray was empty, she set it down, instead hurrying around to refill mugs two at a time after Dronzal showed her how to use the tap in the corner of the room.
It felt almost normal, like she’d been hired for some private event and not kidnapped in the middle of the night, and the monotonous activity kept her mind off other things.
It was nice to stretch her legs, and even some of the conversations weren’t so bad, the officers being perfectly polite and pleasant as she served them drink after drink.
Dronzal gave no indication that the ale should stop flowing, so Lena kept serving, even as glowing eyes glazed over and words became slurred.
Screl was having a hushed conversation with one of the officers in the corner as Lena chatted awkwardly with a Thren sitting on a couch, his eyes wandering over her in a way he’d been too polite to do a couple of drinks ago.
“As I said before, it has been a long time since we were on our home planet. So long since I’ve seen my mate,” the officer slurred, and she nodded along, trying to smile.
Suddenly, one of the officer’s tentacles brushed against her skin, his eyes going wide at the contact. Before she could pull away, he was dragging her onto his lap, his face inches away from hers.
“You are a pretty one, aren’t you?” he asked, the whisper sending a shiver of dread down her spine.
“I think you should let me go,” she said, trying to squirm out of his grasp.
She wasn’t so much worried for her own sake as she was for his. She glanced at Dronzal, who just shrugged, though her tentacles were stiff with tension.
“What? And let the commander keep you all to himself? He’s the reason we can’t return home, the reason I must suffer without my mate. The least he could do is let us borrow his little pet…”
The Thren chuckled lightly, squeezing one of her breasts, his arms and tentacles wrapped tightly around her.
Lena yelped, unable to stop herself, her eyes darting to meet Screl’s.
Oh, no.
In a flash, Screl was at her side, practically knocking over the Thren he was speaking to and letting out a vicious roar. The seated officer jumped up, knocking her off his lap, though Screl caught her with unnatural speed, righting her gently before turning his attention elsewhere.
“I made it clear, no touching,” Screl hissed, a murderous gleam in his eyes.
“I-I am sorry,” the officer stammered, holding his hands up in a show of innocence. “It was an accident. I-I don’t know what came over me!”
He trembled as Screl circled a large hand around his neck, holding him in place before raising a fist and bringing it down with a sickening crunch.
The male immediately crumpled to the floor with his tentacles curled in tight to his back, and Screl kicked hard, the fallen Thren letting out a terrible groan.
Lena’s stomach twisted, guilt and disgust filling her at the wanton acts of violence, at the fact that she was the reason it was happening. Before Screl could land another blow, she stepped forward, grasping his arm as tears streamed down her face.
“Stop!” she cried, and he flipped around, his eyes flashing with hatred.
The entire room froze for a few long moments, Screl’s chest heaving as he stared down at her. Low moans emitted from the officer on the floor, but otherwise there was only hushed silence.
With a final glare, Screl picked Lena up, throwing her over his shoulder, and she didn’t fight him, letting him carry her out of the room as Dronzal followed closely behind.