Chapter 64 Noelle
NOELLE
Noelle winced as she bent over to pick up a piece of crumpled food wrapper from the floor of Thune’s bedroom. Her entire body ached—particularly between her legs—and not in a good way.
Burn had wanted her last night. Needed her. But not like that.
Not with that bastard forcing us… Not with the pain collar threatening all of us.
But Dios, what choice did we even have?
She tried to push the memory aside, tried to separate the Burn she knew—the quiet, brooding warrior who watched over her so protectively—from the broken male who had taken her roughly in front of Thune’s leering faces. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. She knew that.
And Bright… Bright had tried to make it better, to ease her pain afterward with whispered comfort and gentle touches.
But this morning, Burn hadn’t met her gaze. He seemed to be angry—whether at himself or her, she wasn’t sure.
I wish I had more time. I wish I could talk to him, make him understand. I’m not mad at him. Not even a little. I just want us to be okay.
She straightened with a soft hiss as pain lanced up her thighs.
She had never been with anyone the size of either of the Kindred warriors. Her ex-husband Branson…well, let’s just say she hadn’t even known what it meant to feel full until she’d met Burn and Bright.
Branson hadn’t exactly had a micro penis—but he’d definitely qualified as undersized. And he’d always blamed her for not getting off during sex—like it was her fault his equipment came with a built-in disappointment guarantee.
And now… She rubbed her lower back and sighed. Now I can barely walk straight.
Cleaning Thune’s disaster of a bedroom wasn’t making things any easier. The floor was, as usual, littered with half-chewed bones, crushed snack wrappers, empty bottles, and what looked suspiciously like a crusty, used sock.
The bed itself looked like a nest a drunken animal had flopped around in. The mattress was sagging, the sheets were twisted and stained, and a sour, greasy odor clung to everything like a fungal growth.
She grimaced and pulled the covers up, trying to force the stiff sheet into something resembling hospital corners. Her inner thighs protested with every movement, but she pushed through the pain.
I’d rather do this a hundred times than go through another night like last night. It was too much—just too, too much.
She moved into the adjoining bathroom, holding her breath as she stepped over yet another pile of bones on the cracked tile floor.
Dios, what does he do—lie in the tub and eat? Mystery meat and bath time, is that it?
She eyed the ring of grime around the interior of the enormous tub.
The water line was marked by a yellow-brown scum streaked with flecks of black and something that looked like hair or fur.
Her stomach churned as she knelt beside it and opened the cabinet underneath the sink to grab the cleaning solution.
She froze.
Something was different this time. Pushed behind the squat jug of tub cleaner was a tall, dark blue bottle she hadn’t seen before.
Frowning, Noelle reached in and tugged it forward. The label was written in blocky alien script, but thankfully the translation bacteria she’d taken on the Kindred Mother Ship allowed her to read it.
“Sleep Aid,” the bottle said.
Curious, Noelle turned the bottle around and read the warning on the back.
“Warning—take one only. Do not combine with alcohol—may cause adverse effects.”
Her heart gave a little thump.
Adverse effects? What does that mean? How “adverse” are we talking about?
The bottle was bigger than any medicine container she’d ever seen—nearly twice the size of a mason jar. She unscrewed the lid and tilted it to peek inside.
Big, chalky pink tablets tumbled against each other like extra-large jawbreakers. Each pill was as big as the palm of her hand. Her fingers trembled as she reached in and plucked two out, then quickly tucked them into the deep pockets of her borrowed dress.
Just in case, she told herself. Maybe we can use these… Maybe they’ll come in handy. If we can get them into Thune or Cookie’s food somehow—
She didn’t finish the thought. She was afraid to hope too much.
The tub still needed cleaning, and she used the cleanser, scrubbing as best she could, trying not to gag as the smell of mildew and meat mingled in the air.
More bones littered the bottom—some cracked, some gnawed. One of them, long and curved, caught her eye.
She picked it up carefully.
It was smooth…heavy.
And shaped exactly like a human femur.
Noelle’s breath caught in her throat.
No. No way. It can’t be.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to dismiss the thought.
Probably from some other humanoid species…probably just looks familiar.
But her gut told her otherwise.
She carried the bone to the kitchen to toss it in the “bone barrel” where all the uneaten scraps went. She half-expected to find Cookie waiting for her—but the Trollox chef was nowhere in sight.
And the heavy, metal door to the meat locker was right there…unattended…forbidden.
Noelle’s heart began to pound.
This is the only chance you’re going to get, she thought. You have to know. You have to see for yourself.
She crept to the metal door and carefully unlatched it. The hinges groaned softly as the door swung open.
A rush of freezing air hit her square in the chest. She gasped as goosebumps exploded across her arms and her nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
It’s so cold, she thought. I should close it. I should walk away.
But something worse than cold was rising inside her—dread.
She stepped forward and her bare feet slapped against the icy metal floor as she entered the walk-in freezer. She wrapped her arms around herself, careful not to touch bare skin, her breath forming little white clouds in front of her face.
Rows of heavy plastic bins lined the walls, labeled in alien runes she didn’t recognize and the translation bacteria couldn’t translate. But Noelle barely glanced at them.
Because right in the center—hanging from hooks in the ceiling—were shapes.
No…not shapes. Bodies.
Her brain refused to process what she was seeing at first…it made no sense.
Then her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the meat locker and she saw—really saw.
Two bodies—upside down. They were hanging like butchered pigs, their ankles pierced by curved metal hooks suspended from the ceiling’s meat rails. Thick gleaming metal bit into their gray-green skin and the torsos swung gently in the cold air, bumping against one another with hard, frozen sounds.
The male—at least she thought it was male—had a limp, greenish penis hanging between his legs. The female had breasts.
And both of them were headless.
Puddles of congealed brown blood pooled beneath their necks, staining the floor in dark, sticky swirls.
Noelle stared, her eyes getting wider and wider. She couldn’t move…couldn’t breathe.
Dios… Madre de Dios…no, oh no…
She looked down at her dress.
The white collar was stained with a muddy brown splotch she’d mistaken for chocolate.
But it wasn’t chocolate—of course it wasn’t. There was no chocolate here, light years from Earth.
It’s blood, she thought numbly. Blood from whoever wore this before me. Probably her. And her eyes were drawn again to the headless female body, hanging by its ankles from the ceiling.
Her knees buckled and she barely managed to catch herself on the doorframe.
“He kills them,” she whispered, and hearing the voice coming from her own throat was like listening to a stranger. “Kills them and eats them when he’s done with them…”
A horrible wave of nausea rolled over her and she had to swallow it down fast.
That’s what happened to the last girl. That’s what’s going to happen to us if we don’t get out of here!
“Blessed Virgin,” she breathed. “Help me…please, help me…”
Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of whistling, off-key and grating.
Cookie.
She lunged out of the freezer, heart hammering, and slammed the door shut. Her fingers fumbled with the latch, barely managing to make it click into place.
She tried to look normal—tried to make her face pleasant and innocent, as she stepped into the kitchen.
Cookie stood in front of the prep table, a massive cleaver in one of his four hands. The blade was stained with something dark.
He squinted at her suspiciously.
“Now then,” he said. “What were you doing back there?”
Noelle forced a smile onto her face and gripped the bone tighter in her hand.
“Just putting some bones in the bone barrel,” she said innocently.
The alien chef gave her a long, hard stare.
“See that you stay out of the freezer,” he said at last. “It’s not for little piggy-wigs like you. Not yet, anyway.” And he stifled a laugh.
“No problem,” Noelle said quickly. “I was just—uh—on my way out.”
“Good.” Cookie raised the cleaver and brought it down with a sickening thunk, slicing through something soft and wet on the table. “Get out of my kitchen.”
Noelle didn’t need to be told twice.
She bolted through the door and down the hallway, only slowing when she was out of sight.
Her hands were shaking, her stomach was churning and her mind was racing.
If we don’t escape, she thought, we’re going to be next. As soon as he gets tired of making porn with us, he’s going to kill us and hang us on those hooks. Cookie will stew us in a pot and serve us to his three heads on a silver platter!
She reached into her pocket and touched the pills.
No matter what it takes, she thought grimly. We’re getting out of here. And we’re never coming back.