The Yielding of Rose (Terran Captives Book 2)

by Trent Evans

  That he would never let her go.

  Yet as he held her tight, his mind envisioned so many more things for her, so many more ordeals, so many more rituals. A whole world of discoveries that he would force her to confront — whether she was ready to or not.

  Whether he was ready or not.

  It was all coming together. It was all going to happen. All of his dreams, those lurid fantasies, they were coming true.

  How was it possible?

  But it was going to be realized. It was happening, against all odds.

  As he cradled her trembling, languid form in his arms, listening to her exhausted murmurs, loving the way her body trembled, she clung to him like a frightened animal. At that sweet, intimate moment, he pondered one more truth though — and it was perhaps the most profound of all.

  He could no longer imagine life without his sweet little Rose.

  Chapter 13

  Mercifully, shockingly, she fell asleep within minutes of him taking her virginity. For a long while, as night fell over the city, he laid there and watched her breathe, wondering what she dreamt. Finally, he peeled himself from her side, knowing now was as good a time as any to make the request.

  Putting on his uniform, though he knew it wasn’t actually necessary, he made his way to the comms room. As a military officer, he was required by Yaanfahri law to have a shielded, spoofed, secure room to transmit and receive classified communications. The GalNet was strictly off limits for military comms, and was vulnerable to snooping from enemies both foreign and domestic. Thus, the need for such a strange — and in Kosha’s case, seldom-used — chamber.

  He hated using it, for two reasons; one, he felt the extreme level of security was total overkill, and two, he found the connection method used to make a secure connection to be supremely uncomfortable.

  The room was almost completely spherical, the sound echoing in odd ways, the color of the inner surfaces of the sphere the deepest black. It seemed to absorb every photon of light that made its way in from the doorway.

  Closing the hatch caused him to be plunged into utter darkness, the sort of darkness he wondered if one experienced after they’d passed away. Then the low hum of the comm unit would begin — which heralded the part of the process he hated most.

  Each secure com room was matched to the neural signals of a single Yaanfahri’s brain. In this case, his.

  Only Kosha could ever use this room — no matter what happened to him. And the reason he found it so uncomfortable was that as he sat in the chair, curved in such a way that it resembled nothing so much as something one might see in a pilot house of the starship, the neural net of the comm unit conformed its carrier wave to his brain waves.

  As it did each time, he shuddered as it made the match. It felt like nothing so much as tiny fingers massaging and tickling the inside of his skull.

  Once the match was confirmed, a ghostly blue-white image floated above him, the resolution cloudy, indistinct. He leaned back in his chair, trying to relax, knowing it would clarify and amplify the transmission signal.

  Suddenly, the diffuse image came into sharp focus, revealing a familiar visage. Commander Stavron, his eyes glinting with both a world weariness and a keen intelligence, appeared.

  “Commander,” Kosha said, clearing his throat. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

  “Unusual for you, isn’t this, Kosha? I know how you hate these secure comm links.”

  “It’s important, sir,” Kosha said. “Commander, I’m contacting you to formally request—”

  “Lieutenant, there’s something you and I need to talk about before you say whatever it is you have to say. Captain Meloran put in a report recently, specifically about your last deployment to Terra...”

  Kosha tensed at the words. Meloran had been unusually circumspect — even evasive — during their joint debriefing upon touchdown at spaceport. Kosha had wondered since if it was possible Meloran may have known after all what Kosha had secreted on board — the luscious contraband he brought back from Terra. Mentally preparing himself to be abraded at best, court-martialed at worst, Kosha took a deep breath.

  Commander Stavron turned away, presenting his strong nose and heavy jaw in profile for a moment, the image flickering now and then. Stavron was, after all, on the other side of the planet.

  “Ah, here it is,” the Commander said. “These are Captain Meloran’s words directly, and I quote:

  ‘On our most recent mission, despite very specific mission parameters, I found Lieutenant Kosha’s performance, sense of duty, and conscientiousness above reproach. I am formally recommending him for a Service Commendation. This will be included in my written report.’”

  Kosha was barely able to keep his jaw from landing on his lap. Commander Stavron gave him a smile that betrayed the man’s knowledge that there was more than just a simple discussion of a recommendation report going on here.

  “That’s quite simply a glowing After Action report from your immediate CO. Captain Meloran is, how do I put this, not typically given to such… effusiveness.” The Commander lowered his chin, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. “I suppose you’ll be wanting something from me for this. Is that why you called me today, Lieutenant?”

  “No, sir. I-I had no idea, sir.”

  “Good,” the Commander said. “Because I actually want something from you. The Fleet has decided to open up a Liaison office. With the Treaty in place, normalization of relations is in order, despite whatever personal misgivings we might have.”

  Kosha was far from the only Yaanfahri officer who viewed the new rapprochement with the Luthien with suspicion. Treaty or no, they could never really be trusted.

  The Commander continued. “Our first large-scale joint exercise with the Luthien fleet is scheduled six cycles from now, and we barely have diplomatic relations with them established yet. Fleet Command wants to change that and establish a regular contact between our two navies. The command staff has already been selected, but support staff and field officers are in short supply. I can think of no one else more qualified for such a — well, sensitive operation — than you, Lieutenant Kosha.”

  His heart was pounding as he replied, not quite believing what he’d just heard. “Commander, are you … promoting me?”

  “That’s what I would call this, yes. As of this moment, Lieutenant, your rank is now Major. Compensation will be increased accordingly. Now, obviously, we can’t have you outranking your actual CO... so I’m afraid this promotion will mean you’ll have to be transferred out of the Survey Corps. Immediately.”

  “That... won’t be a problem, Commander.” Kosha could hardly form words, he was so stunned.

  “Good. Good,” said Stavron. “The Liaison office is just getting established. They’ve selected a headquarters building, but don’t have any staff quarters situated yet, which means you’re going to be idle for a while — perhaps as long as two cycles. You will receive your regular pay, of course, in the interim. At a Major’s pay grade.”

  Kosha chuckled, “Yes, sir.”

  “But that means you’re going to have to cool your heels at your home. For now. Not such a bad way to start a new assignment though, is it, Major?”

  “No, sir, it’s not.”

  “I trust you have sufficient, uh, projects around the home to keep you occupied for the duration?” Stavron’s brow quirked as he said it.

  “I have a few… ideas.”

  Stavron was quiet for a moment, then scratched his chin. “Now, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

  Kosha allowed himself a bright, arrogant grin. “It… wasn’t important, Commander. Sorry to disturb you.”

  Stavron’s eyes glinted, his lips curving just the slightest bit. “I thought so, Major. Stavron out.”

  The Commander’s image flickered off, and Kosha leaned his head back with a loud, deep sigh, relieved at both the news and at the end of that terrible sensation crawling back and forth across his gray matter.

&nb
sp; Kosha had made the call expecting a fight; it was always a risk to request a furlough in the Survey Corps. Often it was a prelude to a service review — and an almost certain increased scrutiny from command.

  Not a good situation for a fleet officer holding a human captive.

  What he’d gotten instead was the best possible outcome, dropped right in his lap.

  He smiled to himself again as he strode through the hatchway from the comm chamber. Now he had the time, and space — and most importantly — the confidence of his position being secure.

  Which meant it was time to begin his human captive’s training.

  Chapter 14

  She woke slowly, her sleep storm-tossed by dreams both sweet and terrible. When she opened her eyes, she found him standing over her again, watching her silently, those brilliant dark eyes coursing over her body. She had no idea how long he’d been watching her, but in those eyes, she saw the possession, she saw what she’d felt.

  His mouth quirked, a little smile forming at the corners of his lips and she realized what he was looking at.

  Her hand was between her thighs.

  He gave her a slow shake of his head, his gaze growing cool. She snatched her fingers away, her heart rate instantly pounding like a jackhammer. Though he hadn’t explicitly stated it, she knew he would never approve of her touching herself, not even in her sleep.

  She curled into a ball on her mat, and it was at that moment that the soreness registered between her legs, her inner thighs. Every muscle below the waist was sore and quivering.

  But it was her sex that ached the most. It was real pain, though bearable, but hopelessly intertwined with it was another sensation, something she wasn’t sure what to make of, something she was afraid to try to understand.

  Yes, she felt the shame. Yes, she felt what it meant to be subjugated, to be conquered. And yet, she didn’t feel violated. How could that be? By any definition, what he’d done was force her.

  Yet she still didn’t feel it a violation. Why?

  Stockholm syndrome, that’s why.

  It blared in her mind regularly. And the longer she stayed in captivity to this strange, beautiful, terrible male, the less vehemently she could argue against it.

  It was a very real possibility.

  But that wasn’t the most upsetting part of it. What troubled her the most was the fact she was starting not to care why.

  What confused her was the part of her — perhaps most of her — that had become mostly concerned with pleasing him. That part of her worried less about the soreness of her newly fucked pussy, her lost virginity, and more consumed with how well she’d behaved for him.

  You’ve officially lost your mind.

  Or was she simply thinking way too much with her pussy?

  It was insanity — but it didn’t make it any less true. Making him pleased with her, mattered now. He wanted her to behave, to obey him, to be good for him.

  And she wanted to try to be.

  You’re lost, Rose. You know that, don’t you?

  The statement held both profound truth, and a frustrating, maddening level of glibness.

  There was so much more to what was happening here, so much more to him, and so much more to her.

  Maybe it took having her virginity taken by her captor for her to see what was really happening. She had changed, even before that gigantic — she shuddered at the thought — penis had claimed her finally. Even before he had taken her, and it had been so much more shattering, so much sweeter — and so much more terrifying — than the dreams she’d had night after night.

  More than all of that though, there was one revelation that shook her to the core, that opened her eyes to the truth of things.

  He had changed her, and there was no going back.

  Even if she wanted to.

  She watched him again as he stood there like a sentinel, an imposing silent presence, always watching, always knowing.

  Immovable, indestructible, irresistible.

  It was as if he was waiting for her, reading her mind, drinking in and enjoying her inner turmoil, her confusion, her dawning understanding of what she’d become.

  Of what he’d made of her.

  Then that smile curved his lips and she felt the bloom of warmth in her chest. It was relief and gratitude and something else she didn’t quite understand.

  It was all mixed together, jumbled, confused — just like her entire life had become. He snapped his fingers and she knew what it meant. Despite her sore legs, despite her sore … everything … she scrambled off her pad and onto the cold, hard floor. Kneeling up, she locked her arms behind the small of her back, shoulders straight, lifting her breasts toward him. A mischievous, insane, voice within her actually hoped he would take advantage of the offering of her vulnerability — even as her rational mind cringed at what he might do with such an opportunity.

  It didn’t make any sense. Any of it.

  How could this have happened to her? How could he have done this to her? And how could she have cooperated so... willingly?

  But you didn’t cooperate, Rose. You didn’t choose any of this.

  She almost laughed at that. It would have been bitter laughter at the hollowness of the sentiment, because it was absent one critical element.

  The truth.

  She had chosen this, in a way. How many times could she have fought? How many times could she have tried to stop him? And yet... she hadn’t.

  You’re victim blaming yourself, Rose.

  No.

  She bit her tongue to avoid saying it, glancing up at him again. Still, he watched her. Did he really know what she was thinking about? Did he know what she was struggling with? He couldn’t, of course. He wasn’t a mind reader. They were aliens, not supernatural beings.

  But perhaps he did understand her. Maybe he understood this human female better than she understood herself?

  There was one thing she knew with a certainty though.

  It wasn’t that simple. None of this was.

  And more than that, she wanted to know where this would go. She needed to see what he might do next. Deep inside, she had to learn what he would make of her, and perhaps, what she really was.

  He crouched before her then. He was back to wearing the white — incredibly tight — trousers that outlined every inch of his muscular legs, the truncheon of his cock heavy between his thighs. It made her shiver as she remembered how she could feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of that huge penis as it pushed her tissues aside … as it made her his forever.

  The curling in her belly began again at the memory, and she almost winced at the traitorous feel of it. Despite the soreness — because of the soreness — she was becoming aroused.

  How could that possibly be?

  Because he already knows what you are, Rose.

  What sense was there in arguing with him? Maybe he did already know. Maybe all he was doing here was leading her on the journey to discovering that which he already knew. Where would that journey end? What would she find there?

  And would she like what she saw?

  It didn’t matter because it was clear he was taking her there — whether she was ready for it or not.

  From behind his back, he produced a black collar. It appeared to be of a substance resembling leather. It gleamed under the light. This one was thicker than the one she was currently wearing.

  He took her old collar off and dropped it on her pad behind her, affixing the cold, stiffer version about her neck. It forced her chin up slightly. It fit even tighter, though not enough to affect her breathing or blood flow, thankfully. It snapped shut at the nape of her neck, and he stroked a stray lock of hair from her face.

  Still, he said nothing.

  A long, thin lead dangled from his fingers then, the approximate length of a dog leash. It wasn’t until she heard the click as it was affixed to the front of her collar that she realized what he was about to do.

  He stood, the end of that leash clenched in his veine
d, massive fist, and the shame overwhelmed her, so much that she wanted to hide her head. She wanted to bury her face in her arms because she couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to endure his observing her debasement.

  And yet, her pussy was even hotter than her face. The slickness was molten and sticky between her thighs once again.

  Oh yes, he knew her well indeed.

  Without a second look, he led her across the room, and knowing what he expected, she followed, haltingly, on her hands and knees, the stone of the floor galling her kneecaps, her fingers spreading upon its cool planes as she moved.

  She hated the way her breasts brushed together, obscenely swinging like bells below her as she moved, and yet she knew that was precisely why he enjoyed it.

  That knowledge that he took pleasure in her embarrassment only increased her arousal more.

  This isn’t adaptation, Rose. This isn’t survival. There’s something else going on here.

  But she ignored it, obeying the pull of the leash, even as her face blushed as hot as the surface of the sun.

  Then she saw where he was taking her, and in a way, it was a relief. It was the bathroom.

  He made her sit upon her heels, arms clasped behind her once again, the leash draped over her shoulder as he drew the water, as the steam rose from the giant basin. He glanced at her from time to time as he waited, a subtle, triumphant glee dancing in his alluringly dark gaze as he did.

  They both knew he’d conquered her. They both knew she was his.

  Now, the only question was … what he would do with her next.

  Chapter 15

  He dressed while she bathed, taking his time to put his base tunic on. It was a uniform that they were allowed to wear when on active duty but not deployed, or when billeted in someone’s home back on Yaanfahr. He wanted to be fully dressed before he proceeded with her. He knew that psychologically, it would help get her in the place she needed to be, a subtle reinforcement of her status, a concrete symbol of a lesser human being in a Yaanfahr male’s household.