by Claire Kent
And had no idea how she could do it.
So she kept stroking and kissing him softly until his body started to relax at last. His breathing slowed down, became thick and hoarse. And finally he turned around in her arms so he could hold her as tightly as she was holding him.
Intensely relieved at these signs that he was recovering, Riana snuggled up against his chest. Eventually, she whispered into the dark, “Can you tell me what they did to you?”
One of Cain’s hands was tangled in her hair, holding her head against his shoulder. His other hand, stroking her lower back, stilled as he replied, “Not now. I’ll try to tell you tomorrow.”
She didn’t push him any further. She knew he meant what he’d said. He wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t psychologically able to open up to that extent yet—not after his defenses were just starting to come down.
“All right,” she murmured, pressing another kiss against his skin, tasting the salty bite of him. He even smelled different—like whatever they’d done had affected the raw, natural scent of him. She hated the change and wanted him to smell like himself again. “Just go to sleep now. We’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.”
Five
Riana woke the following morning feeling like something was different. After over two months of endless days—all exactly the same—the feeling was significant enough to jar her awake from her usual half-conscious daze.
Cain wasn’t going to leave her. He was going to take her with him when he tried to escape. They’d worked out a plan. It was a longshot, but it was possible. Hall might not be wholly trustworthy, but he wanted to get out of here as much as they did, so they could trust him in this, at least. There might be hope for life outside the Hold—when she’d spent weeks telling herself not to even dream of a miracle rescue.
It wasn’t a miracle, though. It was just Cain being Cain. And evidence that she meant something to him—at least enough to trust her judgment and to not leave her behind.
She shifted in bed and realized she was snuggled up next to him. She had somehow scooted down while she’d slept because her cheek was pressed up against the side of Cain’s belly.
It wasn’t the worst place to be.
She pulled away, the skin of her cheek clinging to Cain’s warm, hard flesh as they parted. When she glanced up, she saw that he was already awake.
He didn’t look damaged or defensive, the way he had the night before. His expression was unfamiliar though—quiet and almost reflective.
“Hi,” she said, her voice cracking on the word.
With a faint smile, he murmured huskily, “What are you doing down there?”
Riana scooted back up so that she was stretched along his side. “I don’t know.” One of her cheeks felt warmer than the other so she assumed one was bright red from being pressed up against his side for so long.
He adjusted so that he could wrap his arms around her. He inhaled deeply, as if he were breathing her in—which was a little unnerving since she was quite sure she didn’t smell very good.
“Are you all right?” she asked, peering up at his unreadable expression. Her heart still ached at how he’d been feeling the night before.
“I’m all right. Thanks.” This morning, his words rung true.
She opened her mouth to ask about what had happened at the checkup, but then she snapped it shut again. She didn’t want to pressure him or make him think about it this morning when he was clearly feeling better.
But he must have read her mind. Because, after clearing his throat, he began, “It’s not torture.”
Riana gasped, startled and relieved at the same time. She didn’t bother asking for clarification, since she knew exactly what he was referring to. “It’s not?”
“No.” He shook his head slowly and brushed his hand along the tangles in her hair. “Davis is rigid about following Coalition rules. So the checkups get done once a year, and they are legitimate checkups.”
“So what’s so terrible about it?”
Cain was obviously having a hard time saying it, even though he sustained a low, even tone the whole time. “They strap you down to a table naked to do a visual examination, and then you’re moved along on a conveyor belt through a series of machines to scan and test your health.”
She could only imagine how Cain would feel bound and humiliated that way. She could only imagine how she herself would feel. But there must be more to it than that, based on his behavior last night. “Do the tests hurt?”
“Some of them. But the worst thing is…” He trailed off, wincing slightly.
“What?” She stroked his chest and belly and felt woozy—so powerfully did she sympathize with Cain’s obvious distress. “What is it?”
“You move through a tube—so small and tight you couldn’t move even if you weren’t strapped down. And the tests take hours.”
Hours. Trapped in a tiny, dark enclosure. And Cain didn’t like to be boxed in. He’d told her so the first night she’d met him.
She understood his reaction. Another person might not have responded so intensely, but he had. He wasn’t invulnerable. So she didn’t ask any more questions. She just squeezed him in a hug and rested her head on his shoulder.
After a minute, Cain said, “But ultimately, I think this might help us.”
Riana lifted her head. “How?”
“I had an idea while I was there. There might now be an easier way to get into the control room.”
“What’s way?”
Cain met her eyes evenly, something oddly wary in his eyes. “Today, Davis will take you up for a checkup.”
“What? Wait a minute! What? How do you know?”
“I know.” When he saw she was about to object and demand further information, he explained, “He’s got a thing for you. And now you’re on his mind. He’s not going to want to wait to bring you up.”
She was so startled she sat up in bed and gaped at him. “What are you talking about? He doesn’t have a thing for me. He barely even acknowledges me—or any other prisoner, for that matter.” But she remembered the hot look she’d caught in Davis’s eyes the day before, when she’d gotten out of the bed naked. She started to wonder if Cain might be right.
“He’s a professional, but he definitely has a thing for you. I noticed it the first day he showed you around.”
“He’s never even tried to—”
“He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t rape a prisoner, even though it would be so easy. But he’s interested. I talked you up while I was up there.”
“What?” Her startled question came out louder than she’d expected.
“It’s not what you think. I didn’t make it sound like I was pimping you out—he’d never be convinced by that. I made a lot of crude remarks about you to him so his heroic side would get riled up. I’m positive he’ll come get you for a checkup this afternoon. And we can take advantage of it.”
Riana was starting to follow his line of thought—although she was still disturbed by the idea of Davis’s possible interest. And she started to see possibilities in such a straightforward way of getting out of the prison hold and into a better position to escape.
Maybe they could get out of here after all.
Maybe they could get out of here today.
She saw across the distance, through the bars, that Hall was looking in their direction. She glanced over at Cain.
He nodded. “Get him over here. We’re going to need him.”
* * *
“Tell me what you can do,” Cain demanded, curtly but not angrily.
Hall had been listening to the plan they’d put together with impressive calm and efficiency—as if escaping from inescapable prison planets was something he did every day.
“I can sense what someone is feeling, and I can turn it around on them,” Hall explained. His eyes shifted from Riana to Cain. “For instance, when you were punching me before, you were feeling rage and violence, so I turned it around on you – making you feel the opposite. So you’d stop.”
“Pretty much.”
“So if someone is feeling wary and careful…” Cain began.
“If I touch them, I can make them not care at all.”
“How long can you hold it?” Cain asked.
“In a weak-willed person, I can hold it for upwards of an hour. But not everyone. I’d say we can’t rely on more than five minutes.”
“That will be enough.” Cain looked over at Riana. “And you’re going to be okay stalling for a while? It will take some time for us to get into place.”
“I can stall.” She sounded more confident than she felt, but she was willing to do whatever she needed to do.
She’d been forced into helplessness for the last two months, and it was almost a relief to finally be able to something—however dangerous—that was genuinely a proactive step.
The three of them looked at each other for a minute, and there was a silent, mutual understanding between them.
“All right then,” Cain said. “We better be ready.”
“And your ramshackle device is really going to work?” Hall asked, looking amused and faintly smug, more like his old self than she’d seen him in a long time.
Cain glowered. “It will work. Just make sure your thing works.”
Hall was opening his mouth to reply, when Riana interrupted with a throaty exclamation of impatience. “Damn it. Would you guys stop with the male showdown? You might as well be arguing about penis size.”
Hall laughed out loud, and, after a few moments, Cain gave her a look that felt warm, special. She wished she weren’t so nervous so she could enjoy it.
***
She should have known by now not to doubt Cain.
He wasn’t the brute, mindless predator he appeared on first sight. That morning, he’d made a point of finding the Tortoise and giving him food, in spite of his narrow focus on their escape. He was far more intelligent and articulate than he appeared. And he was clearly a strategist—gifted at reading people, situations, and undercurrents and making plans accordingly.
He was nearly always right.
Davis did come for her that afternoon to take her to the checkup.
Cain had been doing one-arm push-ups—working off some of his excess energy—and Riana had just been lying on the bed, trying to distract herself from her anxiety by admiring the sleek power of his rippling muscles and the primal masculinity of his body, covered with the sheen of perspiration.
When the vehicle pulled up beside the cell, just as it had the day before, Riana got up immediately and stood by the bed.
“Unlock the cell,” Davis called out.
Cain pulled himself up from the floor and stood stock still, glaring in the direction of the vehicle. He looked grim, stubborn, bristling, and he made no move to follow the curt order.
“Do it.” Davis aimed a gun at him.
Riana hurried over to Cain and grabbed the key from his pocket. Then she went to unlock the cell door as instructed.
Davis came in, warily leveling the weapon at Cain.
“You took me yesterday,” Cain snarled.
“I’m not here for you today.” Davis eyes flickered over to where Riana was standing a few feet away.
Cain made a growling noise and took a threatening step forward.
Davis shifted the gun until he was aiming directly at Cain’s groin. “Not a good idea. I’m just taking her for the checkup. She’ll be back before lights out.”
“She’s mine,” Cain gritted out, looking and sounding like a snarling animal.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Riana snapped, stepping between Cain and Davis’s weapon with an impatient glance back at Cain.
“I’ll go,” she said, calmly meeting Davis’s eyes. “And I’m not his.”
As she’d hoped, his expression changed as she added those last soft words. He nodded, an expression of both understanding and interest on his face.
He’d also turned his body some, so he was facing in their direction, leaving his back toward the toilet nook.
Without making a sound, Hall stepped out of the nook, where he’d been hiding for hours, and put his hand out to grip the back of Davis’s neck.
Davis lowered his gun, and his face became strangely, frighteningly blank.
Cain took the gun out of his hands—facing no resistance at all—and then he ducked into the vehicle to make sure there was no other guard inside. Evidently, there wasn’t. Davis had come on his own yesterday too.
It was tempting to think they could all just get into the vehicle and make their way out of the prison and then to a transport that would get them off the planet. But far too many guards would be waiting when the vehicle returned, and they’d never get access to the control room or get through to the docking station.
“Is he ready?” Cain asked, his eyes on Hall.
Hall nodded. “He was highly on guard, so now he’s not. But hurry.” His face had broken out in perspiration, and Riana realized it must take effort to hold the Reader’s connection the way he was.
Cain asked, “Is there a transport we could use to get off the planet?”
Davis nodded, that same blank, apathetic expression on his face. “In Docking Bay D.”
Riana took a shaky breath.
“How do we get through the locked doors in this place?”
“Bracelet.” Davis waved his hand around, and she saw a metal bracelet around his wrist with a few different blinking lights.
She was relieved the doors didn’t activate by an eye scan. Maybe it was another safety precaution—so guards wouldn’t go around losing their eyes. She reached for the bracelet, trying to get it off, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Can you take it off?” she asked, feeling desperate, since Hall’s face was getting more and more strained.
“Sure.” Davis clicked something on the bracelet, and it snapped apart.
She took it from it, fumbling slightly in her nerves. “He’ll notice it’s gone,” she murmured to Cain.
He nodded, studying the bracelet, evidently to figure out what made it work.
“Hurry,” Hall muttered, shifting from foot to foot. “This guy’s will is not weak.” The arm he had raised to hold against Davis’s neck was shaking visibly.
Cain exhaled audibly as he snapped a piece out of the bracelet. Then he snapped the rest of the bracelet back on Davis’s wrist. He pocketed the piece he’d taken out. “That’s the part that matters,” he told her. “The rest is just to hold it on the wrist.”
She really hoped he was right.
“Okay,” Cain said. “Get him back in the vehicle.”
Hall was already moving, pushing Davis with him. “He’ll be susceptible for a minute after I let him go. Give him a story to believe. Make it a good one.
Cain was putting the manacles and gag on Riana, although he left the gag hanging rather than tightening it, and then he helped her into the vehicle. She felt sick and helpless and terrified, but she forced the feelings down because now was the moment that really mattered.
Cain leaned down and murmured into her ear. “I’ll be coming for you. No matter what. Wait for me.”
She nodded mutely, a painful tension in her throat, and then she watched as Cain deboarded the vehicle and then met Hall’s eyes.
“Get in position,” Hall said hoarsely, clearly on his last thread of control. “I have to move quick.”
Then Cain was out of sight, and Hall was saying, “Now.”
Hall was off the vehicle, shutting the door behind him, before she could process his exit.
Davis was standing in the armored vehicle, swaying and sickeningly white.
“Are you okay?” she asked, not having to fake the anxiety in her voice. “Are you okay?”
He blinked in her direction. “What…happened?”
“I don’t know. You were putting the gag on me, and then it was like you blacked out or something. Do
you feel okay?”
“No.” He lowered himself to one of the seats, breathing slowly. “We were leaving?”
“Yeah. He was getting out of control, so you had to knock him out, and then you were getting me ready to take for checkup.” She had no idea how Hall’s ability worked, but she prayed desperately that Davis would believe the story.
Still looking dazed, Davis glanced out the window of the vehicle to see Cain lying on the floor of the cell, evidently unconscious. Hall was nowhere in sight.
Davis’s face was clearing and gaining more color, and he looked a little less dizzy as he said, “I don’t know what happened. Everything just faded. It’s never happened to me before.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor.” She kept her face relaxed and her eyes wide. “There are some medical conditions that cause that. Hopefully it’s nothing too serious.”
“Yes.” He must have pulled himself together because he reached over to the gag hanging lose under her chin.
“Do you have to put that on?” she asked, her pulse starting to race again.
“It’s protocol. It won’t be for long.”
She nodded, unable to say anything since he was strapping the gag in place. Then he went to sit in front of the controls of the vehicle and steered it to the entrance of the prison.
She had a brief moment of panic, thinking he wouldn’t have the thing in his bracelet that triggered the doors, but they opened automatically, evidently controlled by one of the guards on the other side.
When they docked next to the control center of the prison, a few guards came out—all of them brandishing guns. Davis helped her out of the vehicle, looking like himself again.
The story she’d planted had evidently been believable.
She noticed one of the guards eyeing her greedily, his gaze crawling over her body. Her trousers had been so well-worn by now that the fabric was soft and thin, riding low on her hips and smoothly shaping the lines of her bottom and legs. She was just wearing her camisole. The thin straps were stretched so they always fell down over her shoulders, and the worn fabric clung, revealing the swell of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples, and leaving a strip of bare skin between the hem and the top of her pants.