As she looked at him, he stared at her.
He took in her facial expression first.
Jet found the grin continued to ghost her lips, even with him looking at her, even with the confusion she could see in his dark eyes, as if he was trying to figure out what her expression meant. Then something in his face changed.
His dark eyes flickered down her body, right before his mouth firmed. He looked away, his tail coiling sideways in a hard, whip-like arc.
“Get her cleaned up,” he said, his voice a growl. “Why is this taking so long?”
Jet heard the anger there, but felt glimmers of some more complex emotion below that.
The second remained too subtle for her to grasp.
“…We have a dinner appointment,” he added, still not looking at her directly.
With that, the muscular Nirreth turned away.
Jet watched as Trazen walked the few steps back to the dressing room door.
He jerked it open with one hand, walking out the same way he’d come in, once more providing the Nirreth media with a glimpse of her, along with a half-dozen more photos and recordings of Jet sitting there, smiling for the first time in months, from that padded bench.
She had the strangest urge to stick her tongue out at him as he left.
Jet felt her head getting clearer and clearer.
With that clarity came a lot of things, not all of them pleasant.
Once the adrenaline started to wear off from her run in the Rings, she found herself thinking strategically once more. She wondered how much time she had, before Trazen or whoever else doped her up again.
She wondered if she had any options, between now and then.
The bottom line seemed simple. She had to get out of there. Not just out of Trazen’s palace. She had to get out of the Green Zone.
It wasn’t safe for her here––if it ever had been.
More to the point, she had to find her family, even if that meant hunting Richter down, back on her home turf, in the skag pits, toxic waters and wilderness of what used to be southwestern Canada.
She couldn’t assume she had much time to figure out a plan.
She’d already put together that the green liquid the female Nirreth gave her had cleared her head. It worked a hell of a lot better than the shots Laksri once gave her to counteract the effects of the venom.
What she didn’t know for absolute certain was if Trazen had been behind that liquid antidote.
She strongly suspected he had been.
She wondered if any of the humans in Trazen’s home would help her.
To even raise the question to the wrong one could get her killed, but she needed allies. Getting out of there on her own was likely impossible. With Trazen stinging her all the time, it would be nearly impossible to keep a secret from him for long, much less keep herself focused on getting out of there in the first place.
Maybe she could find some way to get Trazen to trust her more.
If he’d let her out of the house on her own, she might be able to find more of the drug in one of the human areas of the Green Zone.
She knew from Laksri that a black market existed in those districts, fed by humans and Nirreth. She could maybe find something to barter.
Or hell, maybe she could get access to some of Richter’s people, convince them she was still on their side. Or maybe just convince them she’d expose Richter for real if they didn’t find some way to smuggle her out.
She toyed with the idea of asking “The Professor” for help, that slave of Trazen’s she remembered. Or maybe the brown-haired woman who’d been kind to her, who seemed to be The Professor’s friend. There’d been a few kitchen slaves she remembered now. One offered Jet cake the first day she’d arrived in Trazen’s home.
Another gave her a tour and found her clothes.
Loyal to Trazen or not, they seemed to see her as one of them.
They’d had some sympathy towards her, at least.
If she could convince one of them, just one, that she wanted to explore the markets for some benign reason––out of boredom or curiosity or to buy a present for Trazen, since they all thought she was sleeping with him, anyway––maybe they would agree to take her.
Or, better yet, look the other way while Jet went on her own.
In the meantime, she’d have to do her damnedest not to think about anything that might cause Trazen to clamp down on her freedoms even more.
She couldn’t think about the drug she wanted, or going back home, or finding Richter’s people or the black markets or her family being held outside Vancouver.
She had to assume Trazen would sting her again soon.
He would definitely sting her before she could act on any of this.
He’d probably sting her before their “dinner plans.”
Instead of focusing on not thinking about those things that would likely get her locked up or killed––which Jet knew pretty much guaranteed she would think about those things, possibly to the exclusion of all else––she figured she’d be better off actively thinking about something else. Preferably something distracting enough that Trazen wouldn’t notice anything strange going on with her.
Preferably something that would distract him, too.
The mere fact of being allowed to fight in the Rings gave her hope.
They were likely lining up a whole new Rings match schedule for her even now. If she was right, she might have a lot more days as clear as this one.
Contemplating the Rings gave her something concrete to think about, as well.
Something other than escape.
Those reporters mentioned a challenge match.
That meant Trazen had already gotten at least one offer, possibly more than one. That meant Jet might be close to reaching the point spread she needed for Trazen to begin accepting those challenges, if she wasn’t there already.
That meant longer runs.
It also meant matches against Nirreth, not only humans.
Matches against men from the pits––humans tough enough to give her a real fight. Humans who might think they were fighting for their lives, and the lives of their families.
It might be enough.
It would have to be enough.
It was all Jet had. Nothing at Trazen’s home would hold her mental attention well enough to keep her occupied once he had his venom in her.
Even the Rings might not be enough for that.
Further, it was difficult not to think about those Rings matches strategically, meaning, in regards to her need to escape. After all, she might be able to connect with some of those human opponents in the course of the match.
Knowing the Nirreth and their proclivities for high emotional drama in the runs, Jet might even know some of her opponents.
They might be people she grew up.
They might be friends of hers from the skag pits around Vancouver.
All of this ran through Jet’s mind as Trazen’s servant finished cleaning her wounds.
She wouldn’t have much time, no matter what she did.
Focusing deliberately on a topic was only marginally easier than not focusing on one. Slipping up would be as easy as forgetting for a single breath.
With the venom, it was so easy to forget a lot of things.
She thought about that, the whole time she stood under the hot shower, once her wounds were cleaned and patched. She thought about it the whole time she dressed, pulling on clothes one of Trazen’s people had lain out for her on the padded couch.
She thought about it as another of Trazen’s servants arranged her hair, fingering oil through the ends of it before combing her straight, wet locks carefully to cover the new stitches closing the cut by her hairline.
Jet continued to think about it while they dried her hair under the blowers, and while they put black kohl over her eyes and down the line of her throat, and wrapped jeweled sandals around her feet, carefully covering her taped broken toe.
She stalled for a few minutes
more after they’d finished with her, smoothing creams over her arms and shoulders where they weren’t bandaged, including the ones that smelled the best out of the row of containers lining the marble counter of the prep room.
Giving her face a last stare in the mirror, she realized she looked pretty good.
After weeks and months of essentially ignoring her appearance after Trazen brought her back from Astet, she had color in her face from the Rings run and the shower, and the black makeup around her eyes brought out the lighter shades of brown in her irises.
Her skin looked smooth, even with the new bruises and cuts.
Her cheekbones, which looked borderline gaunt to her earlier that day, now looked exotically high with the added color and the make-up that brought out her face’s contours in subtle shades of browns and reds.
Exhaling in relief at what she saw, she steeled her mental resolve before she turned, making her way to the door.
Someone had already removed the rabbit from the prep room.
Jet had to assume that they’d taken it back to Trazen’s home.
She could only hope she didn’t end up eating it for dinner that night. Feeling her mouth curl in a grimace at the image of the thing cut up and grilled on her plate, she shoved that out of her head, too.
She jerked open the door.
Immediately, she was surrounded.
Trazen’s people circled her first.
Jet sucked in a breath, stepping back in reflex, then lowering her arms slowly when she felt protective Nirreth bodies surround her, blocking the descending reporters from touching her. The guards pulled fingers off and pushed others away when those hands slipped through the boundary anyway. Most tried to stroke her hair and skin, as a lot of her Nirreth fans and even the Nirreth media were wont to do.
Jet fought to breathe, walking fast to stay level with her bodyguards as they guided her towards the back entrance to the building, moving fast.
Lights continued to flash in her face.
She saw the blue glow of live video recorders surrounding her like a circle of iridescent eyes.
When they burst through the double doors, the sunlight shocked her.
Somehow, it seemed like too much time had passed for the sun to still be in the sky, even though it had fallen relatively low, tinting the dome a goldish hue.
She’d been under artificial light for so long, it still hurt her eyes. As she lowered her hand to gaze at the sunset, she felt her throat tighten.
Even this sky wasn’t real.
Trazen’s guards caught hold of her arms, guiding and pushing her towards and into another of those sailboat-like trolleys.
It happened fast.
Before she knew it, the door closed behind her, and she sat on one of the padded benches in her long, embroidered shirt and Nirreth leggings. Outside that door, the guards held out their arms to block the trolley from reporters’ cameras.
When Jet caught her breath and glanced around, she found Trazen sitting across from her.
He stared at her unapologetically, one arm propped on the back support for the bench where he sat. Nirreth and humans continued to bang on the windows of the trolley where they squeezed past Trazen’s guards, calling Jet’s name.
Trazen didn’t look over.
Only his tail contained much expression, coiling and uncoiling sensually as he resettled his weight, leaning back further on the bench.
His opened a hand towards her then, making a graceful gesture with his long fingers.
“You look nice, Jet,” he said.
She smiled, but the expression came more from surprise and confusion.
He must have felt some portion of that, or seen it on her face.
“Should I refrain from complimenting you?” he said. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Or should I merely refrain from complimenting your appearance?”
She exhaled a half-laugh, sitting back on the bench.
Still watching him in something like bewilderment, she combed her fingers through her hair self-consciously, aware that the people in the crowd had been touching and tugging on it. In the process, she hit the fresh cut on her forehead. The pain came sharp and surprised her, so she sucked in another breath, wincing as she pulled her hair back over the cut.
“Come here,” he said. “Let me see it.”
“It’s fine,” she said, giving him a tauter smile. “I just forgot about it.”
He looked like he might argue with her, then seemed to change his mind, draping his arm once more on the back of the bench.
“Are you hungry?” he said, his tone still carefully polite.
Jet fought not to gape at him.
She didn’t want to play into whatever game this was, but she couldn’t help struggling with how to react to his demeanor. Had he forgotten what she was like when she wasn’t stoned on his venom? Or was this Trazen flirting with her?
“Sure,” she said, after a too-long pause.
Hesitating, she looked out the window, maybe to buy herself time. She didn’t see much other than a blur of blue sky and green grass and shadows cut between them for buildings. She fought to think, then decided not to overthink this, either.
“Did you say we had a meeting or something?” she said, looking at him again. She caught his dark eyes appraising her, staring almost openly, and swallowed. “Over dinner? Or did I mishear that?”
He inclined his head to one side, a Nirreth yes.
“Who with?” she said. “Anyone I would know?”
“No,” he said.
She thought he might elaborate if she didn’t press him, but he didn’t. When he continued to stare at her, his eyes lingering on her face, she exhaled in a kind of sigh.
“Well?” she said.
“Well… what?”
“What’s my role?” she said. “How do you want me to play this, whatever it is? Rings champion? Media icon? Revolutionary symbol? House pet? Sex kitten? Richter usually gave me a head’s up before he dragged me out to meet the sharks.”
Trazen’s eyes widened perceptibly.
Then, as if in spite of himself, he let out one of those soft Nirreth chuckles.
“I do not doubt that he did,” the Nirreth murmured, his tail darting sideways through the slat between the bench and the back rest. He gave her a less-guarded look.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” he added, voice blunt.
His smile inched higher.
“But I appreciate you asking, Jet. It will simplify things considerably for me, if you are able to think strategically in such a way. More so, if you can follow orders.”
Jet frowned.
She knew her confusion showed on her face, but couldn’t think of a good reason to hide it anymore. He put her out of her misery quickly that time, making that soft purring noise that Nirreth used to convey reassurance.
“I suspect they want to hit me with a request for a challenge match,” he said.
Understanding bloomed in Jet’s mind. “Oh.”
“Yes,” Trazen smiled. “…Oh.”
“Who is it?” Jet asked.
He made a dismissive gesture with his fingers.
She realized he wasn’t going to answer and frowned again, fighting not to let that bother her. But it did bother her. It bothered her enough to risk annoying him by asking again. When she opened her mouth however, he looked her directly in the face.
Something in his expression caused her to hesitate.
“Jet.” He leaned closer to her, folding his four-fingered hands. “Whatever your role, you are owned by me in this conversation. I trust you can remember that.”
Jet blinked, fighting with how to take his words.
When his expression didn’t change, she forced herself to swallow it, then to shrug it off. Folding her arms over her chest, she leaned back in her own seat, recreating the distance between them. When that didn’t help, she turned her head, gazing out the window.
“Aren’t I always owned by you, Trazen?” she said.
&nbs
p; She spoke without thinking about whether her words were particularly wise.
When she looked back at him, he didn’t seem angry, though.
Instead, his dark eyes had grown thoughtful, confusing her more because she couldn’t read them at all. She watched his tail make lazy arcs, even as he gave her another of those subtle Nirreth smiles.
“What is up with you?” she said finally. “Who are you?”
That smile widened. “Suffering from amnesia, are we?”
“I don’t think I’m the one with the memory problem,” she said, frowning.
Fighting a sudden urge to cut the crap with him, to just ask him what he was doing, what had been going on with him since they left Astet, she stalled instead, watching his face. Seeing a sharper look rise to his dark irises, she changed her mind altogether, or lost her nerve maybe.
After all, he could make her life extremely difficult, if he wanted.
So far, he’d chosen not to.
Given that, why pick fights with him?
This was probably all some head game anyway, maybe to get her to lower her guard. Maybe he wanted her to trust him now that he owned her. Or maybe he’d ceased to care about her at all, now that he had her under his heel.
Maybe he only kept her alive to make him money in the Rings.
Whatever his deal was, she didn’t really need him monitoring her closely again. He’d finally given her a breather with the venom. She didn’t want to go back to losing her mind and self under his stinger, just because he’d decided she was unreliable.
Maybe if she acted docile enough, he would decide he didn’t have to sting her so much.
Clearly, he wanted her in the Rings.
He even seemed to want her to win for him.
Maybe she could really get him to trust her, like he seemed to want her to do of him.
Maybe this could be more of a business arrangement than she’d imagined.
When she glanced up next, Trazen was still watching her, but his eyes held an added layer of scrutiny. Seeing the intelligence behind that look, Jet smiled, forcing a shrug.
The Complete Alien Apocalypse Series (Parts I-IV Plus Bonus Novella): An Apocalyptic, Romantic, Science Fiction, Alien Invasion Adventure Page 72