by Sophie Stern
"If you need anything, press the button by the door," I tell her. "It opens up a communication channel that I'll hear in my earpiece."
"You aren't wearing an earpiece," she says.
I turn my head and push back my dark blue hair so she has a clear view of my ear.
"It blends in with my skin," I tell her. "It's pretty difficult to see unless you're looking for it."
"Oh," she says. "Okay."
"I'll be right back, little one," I say, and then I leave the room.
Chapter 7
Fiona
As soon as the door closes, I jump up and run over. I push buttons and try to enter the code to get the door unlocked, but I only saw two of the numbers Quinn pushed, so all I get is a loud beeping noise that lets me know I entered the wrong code.
I try again.
And again,
"Fuck," I say aloud, and hit the keypad with my fist.
The door opens, and before I can think about whether I'm making the right choice or not, I step through the doorway and into the hallway. I listen for a second, but I don't hear Quinn - if that's even his real name - and I don't hear anyone else.
Good.
I turn left and head back toward the entrance of the ship. I need to get the hell out of here and back to my normal life. I need to find out what happened to my family. I need to find out what happened to Darin. I need to find out if I even have a life to go back to on Mirroean.
I need to get away.
I don't have a bad feeling about Quinn. In fact, it's strange that I feel so comfortable around him, so at ease. I almost feel safe with him and I keep catching myself letting my guard down.
That's a bad idea.
This might not be the man who kidnapped me, but he's the man who bought me. He's the reason I'm still on Dreagle. He's the reason I'm stuck here. He's the reason I'm going to be a slave.
He's not going to let me free.
One thing I've learned during my imprisonment on this fucking planet is that I have to look out for myself. No one else is going to save me. There is no knight in shining armor: no magical prince waiting to save the day. It's every girl for herself.
Every creature looks after themselves and nothing more, no one more.
There's nothing I can do but try my best to get out of here, to try to get back to Mirroean. There's no telling how I can make it happen. There's no way to predict if I'll be able to get back to the visitor's area of the planet or if my ship is even still there.
If my parents are dead, will the ship be waiting for me?
If they aren't dead, did they look for me?
I don't even know. I have no way of knowing. All I know is that I have to escape. I have to get away. I have to find a way to break free.
I have to.
I turn the corner and start to run. I can't remember how far it is to the entrance of the ship. All I know is that the idea of staying here, locked in a little room, living as some alien's plaything is horrifying. I have to escape.
So I run.
My feet hit the floor and I move. I'm exhausted and my hands hurt and I think they're starting to bleed again, but I push down the pain and keep moving.
My mother needs me.
My father needs me.
Darin needs me.
I need to escape.
My feet keep moving, but suddenly, I start to feel dizzy, and I slow down. Maybe I should sit down for a second or two. Maybe I should rest for a minute before I try to escape. The whole hallway begins to spin and I decide that yes, sitting down is definitely a good idea. My ass hits the floor and I lean against the wall and close my eyes.
"Come on," I say to myself. "Come on. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this."
I keep talking to myself for a few minutes, but then I remember I'm supposed to be escaping, and I get on all fours and decide to crawl the rest of the way. Standing makes me too dizzy and I feel too weak. Yes, crawling is a good way to get out of here. Only, my cuts have definitely started bleeding again and I'm leaving bloody hand prints on the floor as I move.
It'll be okay, I tell myself. It'll be okay because the bastard who bought me deserves to have to clean his floor. He stole me. He thinks I'm a possession. He doesn't even think I'm a real person. He doesn't even think I'm human. He just thinks I'm something that can be bought or sold or used or thrown away.
That's all I am.
I don't know when I started crying, but my tears are hitting the floor, along with my bloody, and soon I stop crawling and just lay down in the middle of the floor.
It's only for a minute, I tell myself.
It's only for a minute.
I need to cry for a minute, and then I'll keep going. I'll keep moving. I'll keep getting on with my escape.
"What the hell?" I hear a voice, and I realize it's him. It's Quinn. He's back to get me, to take me, to capture me. He's back and he's going to get me.
"No," I cry out, only my voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, and I try to move, but I can't. I'm completely exhausted and I can't move. I can't crawl. I can't even speak.
"Baby, you're hurting yourself," he says, and he picks me up easily, like I'm a little child. I suppose that next to a giant like Quinn, I am quite small. I feel small when I'm in his arms, and that's something I've never felt before. Fat? Yes. Huge? Yes. Big? Yes. Those are all things I've been called, all things I've felt. But he doesn't seem to think I'm any of those things.
He seems to think I'm small.
For a second, I allow myself to feel small and cared for and protected. He pets my hair as he carries me down the hallway, and even though I didn't get my escape, I allow myself to feel tiny for just a little bit.
I allow myself to feel like everything is going to be all right.
I allow myself to feel safe.
Just for a little while.
Chapter 8
Quinn
She's going to kill herself.
She's going to abso-fucking-lutely kill herself, and at this moment, I'm happy knowing humans can't smell emotions the way aliens can. I'm happy knowing she has no idea just how pissed I am that she tried to escape.
What the hell was she thinking?
I should have known better. I should have known she's a fighter, should have known she'd figure out a way to get out of the room. I should have known she'd feel like she had to try to escape the moment I turned my back on her.
I really can't blame her. Wouldn't I do the same thing? If I was trapped on a planet with no hope for escape, wouldn't I try anyway? I think I would. I think I'd try. I think I'd do anything if it meant getting away.
Instead of taking Fiona back to her room, I find myself going to my own bedroom. Despite the fact that I have an entire warehouse to hide out in, I always sleep on the ship. It still feels more secure to me, still feels safer. It feels comfortable and a little homey and even though I'm going to have to turn over the ship eventually, I like sleeping on it.
I like my bed.
By the time we get to my room, Fiona is passed out in my arms. The little waif has no idea just how dehydrated and starved she is. I don't know how long they kept her locked up before the auction, but she needs food and water and she needs to be cleaned up. I had gotten all the medical supplies to her room before I realized she'd escaped. As soon as I saw she was gone, I dropped everything and ran, trying to get to her before she left the warehouse.
I hadn't counted on her passing out on the ground.
I just thought she didn't know what she was running to.
If she thinks I'm bad, she's going to be shocked with the outside world. It's so much worse. I wouldn't wish Dreagle on my worst enemy: let alone a scared little girl with nowhere to go.
She needs a bath, so I lay her on the bed and go to draw one. As soon as the tub is full, I go back into my room and wake up Fiona.
"Come on," I tell her. "Let's get you cleaned up."
"No," she protests, lightly pushing against me. "No. Leave me alone."
"Wow," she says, relaxing back into the water. "That feels nice."
She keeps her eyes closed and doesn't move or protest as I gently wash her hair and her hands. The clear water turns muddy as I get the dirt and grime off of her body. The bruises I find beneath the dirt piss me off. I already knew she had a few, but there are more than I expected.
What the fuck did those slavers do to her? I get that she tried to escape, but there's no excuse for this. There's no reason they had to hurt her this badly. There's nothing anyone could say to convince me otherwise.
She was in danger, and then they hurt her.
She was scared, and then they caused her pain.
Fiona stays still as I use a washcloth to gently clean the cuts on her hands. At one point, she sucks in her breath, and I know she's fighting the pain. I know she's trying not to cry.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm trying to be gentle."
"It's okay," she says, but I'm still a little more cautious, a little more careful as I move the cloth over her body. I wash her arms and her chest. Then I move to her breasts. Gently, I wash away the dirty from her nipples. My dick hardens when I touch her, and I feel ashamed. She's a victim. I shouldn't be aroused by the fact that I'm touching her, but I never said I was a hero.
I never said I was a good guy.
I'm not.
I'm a thief and a coward. I'm not the type of guy who saves women, who rescues them from terrible fates. That's not me. That's never been me. I'm not interested in wooing the girl, in sweeping her off her tiny little feet.
But my cock is throbbing and by the time I reach her belly, I'm aching with the pain of my erection. Why is she so beautiful? Why does she have to be so perfect? Her dark hair contrasts perfectly with her pale skin and her perky breasts lead to a soft tummy I just want to lick. I wonder what she tastes like. I wonder what it would be like to run my tongue over her belly and down to the space between her legs. I wonder what it would be like to make her come.
I wonder what it would be like to make her scream.
"I can do that bit," she says suddenly, sitting up in the tub. She takes the washcloth from my hand and blushes, then runs it between her legs. Unabashedly, I don't look away. Instead, I watch her hands move as she cleans her pussy. Then she washes her legs and feet. Fiona is bright red by the time she's done.
"You're beautiful," I tell her, but she just shakes her head.
"I'm normal," she says. "Only average."
"There's nothing average about you. If you really think that, you're lying to yourself." I help her out of the tub and wrap her in a large, over-sized towel. It's more like a soft blanket, and she visibly relaxes once she's covered up, once she has a bit of modesty to herself. Longing washes over me and I'm not even sure why. Eventually, she's going to go back to her own planet. Eventually, I'll get her there. I will, but I don't want to.
Suddenly, I wonder what it would be like to keep her.
Suddenly, I wonder what it would be like to fall in love with her.
To touch her.
To make love to her.
"Let's get those hands bandaged," I say, pushing the thoughts from my mind. I don't have time to think about that. I don't have time to think about anything right now. I need to stay focused. Fiona is a distraction. She's a lovely distraction, admittedly, but she's still a distraction.
And I don't have time for that.
There’s no way to know exactly when Hector will catch up with me. I need to discover his secrets before he finds me. I know there’s something here. There's definitely a reason he's so desperate to find this ship. There's definitely a reason he's enlisted the help of the fucking police to find me.
Fiona walks back into my room and sits on the bed without any prompting. She tucks the towel beneath her armpits so her breasts are covered, but her arms are free. Then she holds out her hands.
Gently, I apply ointment and bandages to each of her hands.
"Fuckers," I mutter as I clean her.
"Who?"
"The men who did this to you."
"I shouldn't have run," she says quietly.
"You had every right to run, little one," I say. "Every fucking right. You know how damn brave you are?" A glance at her eyes tells me she doesn't believe me, that she doesn't view herself as brave or special or amazing or incredible. It's a pity because she's all of those things and more.
She’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, the most incredible woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I only wish she knew it.
“Tell me about your life before,” I say. It’s a question, but I phrase it like a sentence. I hope it’ll help draw her out, hope it’ll help her share my secrets.
“I worked at a company,” she tells me. “I didn’t really have to. My parents are rich. Well, they were rich. I don’t know if…” Her voice trails off and I know what she’s going to say. I don’t know if they’re alive.
“The company,” I ask, trying to keep her positive. “What did you do there?”
“I helped new immigrants find homes,” she grins, and I can tell this is what she’s meant to be doing. I can tell she loves her job. “When people come to Mirroean, finding a place to live can be hard.”
“It’s an expensive place to live,” I mutter. Even though I’m wealthy, I don’t know that I’m that wealthy. Residing on Mirroean takes a special kind of person and a special kind of wallet.
“Yeah,” she admits. “But I help work out deals with people on the planet who want to rent out rooms in their homes or who have extra homes they can afford to rent inexpensively.”
“So you help people find reasonable places to live,” I say. “That’s admirable.”
“I wish my family thought so,” she says quietly.
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” I’m rubbing her wrists. Her hands are both bandaged, but there’s still a lot of tension in her body. So much tension for one woman. I run my hands over her skin, gently massaging her.
“It’s a long one,” she manages to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’ve got time,” I say, and she hesitates for a minute. Then Fiona seems to make up her mind and she nods.
“All right,” she tells me. She closes her eyes, but keeps sitting upright as I touch her. My hands move up her forearms and to her shoulders. Finally, I climb on the bed and sit behind her.
“All the better to massage you with, my dear,” I murmur, but she doesn’t get my Little Red Riding Hood reference, which is just as well. I don’t want her to actually think I’m the big, bad wolf.
I want her to trust me, to find comfort in me.
“My family has lofty goals for me,” she says. “Or did, rather. I don’t know…you know, I don’t know if they’re alive, Quinn.”
“One thing at a time, baby,” I whisper. “Just tell me about your job, okay?”
“They think it’s stupid,” she says. “I’m working at this company and I’m going to school at night to get some certifications so I can do more upper-level stuff within the organization.”
“That sounds pretty incredible to me,” I say, impressed she’s able to manage all of that.
“My father wanted me to quit and come work for him at his organization. Darin, too. My mother just does whatever the two of them say, so it was a no-brainer for her. Of course I should quit and go work with dad. Of course.”
“What does his company do?”
“Exactly the opposite of what I do,” she says. “I help people immigrate and find affordable housing. My father runs a construction company whose goal is to keep costs as high as possible on Mirroean. They want to make it difficult for poor people to live there. Hell, they want to make it difficult for poor people to even move there.”
Fiona relaxes back against me, and I run my hands up and down her arms. It’s all I can d
o to keep from kissing her hair, but I’m trying to have some semblance of self-control here.
She just smells so amazing. She’s so soft, so sweet.
She’s perfect.
The towel barely covers her breasts. The fabric has slipped down so the only part of her that’s still covered are her tiny little nipples.
“Um, Quinn?” She says, shifting between my legs, and now it’s my turn to blush because I know exactly what she’s noticed. My cock is pressing against her back and it’s hard as a rock because Fiona? Fiona is fucking fantastic.
“Yes, Fiona?” I should apologize and get off the bed. I should stop rubbing her shoulders and leave. I should give her some time to herself. I should be a good man, but I won’t.
I’m not a good man.
That’s not who I am.
“I…um…I need to use the bathroom,” she finally says, and quickly scoots off the bed. In the process, her towel falls, and I don’t hide the way I’m looking at her body. Her face is pink, and at first I think it’s with embarrassment, but I can smell her. She can’t hide her true feelings from me. Not this time.
No, the little human is aroused, and she’s looking right at my cock.
For a minute, I just watch her looking at me. Her tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip, moistening it, and I wonder what she tastes like.
Strawberries, I bet.
Or peaches.
Fruit.
I bet Fiona tastes like ripe, delicious fruit.
Suddenly, though, she seems to realize what she’s doing, and she turns and darts into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter 9
Quinn
Fiona stays in the bathroom a long time, and then comes out wrapped in a fresh towel.
"Come on," I finally say. "Let's get you to bed. It's been a long day. You need rest. Drink this first." I hand her a glass of water and she looks at it warily.
"Is there anything in it?" She asks.
"Yeah. Water. Drink it."
She takes the glass and sniffs it, then carefully drinks it. Slowly. Seemingly satisfied it's not poisoned, she drinks faster and soon the entire glass is gone.