The Taming

by Imogen Keeper

  He tied her back to his bed, letting her lay on it until he was ready for sleep.

  ______

  KLYM WOKE IN THE night when her throbbing feet bumped against each other. She winced and tried to shift them to a more comfortable position. She must have fallen asleep in his bed, and apparently, he’d left her there.

  It took a long moment, breathing in the dark, for the haze of sleep to slide away. Even in the near total darkness, she’d recognize the smell of him anywhere. Dark and spicy.

  She rubbed her face against the pillow, curling her toes, tucking the blanket up around her chin with her bound hands. Her bottom bumped into something. What in the world?

  She rolled over, reached out her hands, sliding them across the bed until she hit something warm and solid and... Torum.

  In bed with her.

  Snatching her hands back, she sat bolt upright. Or, rather, she tried to sit bolt upright. The bindings dug into her wrists, and she didn’t get far.

  Torum was in bed with her, lying beside her, sleeping beside her.

  Twin pearly orbs glowed in the darkness only a few inches from her pillow. Vestigi eyes glowed in the dark? She hadn’t known that.

  “Go back to sleep,” he muttered, and those orbs disappeared.

  “But we can’t sleep in the same bed. It’s...”

  The orbs appeared. What could he see in the darkness? “Would you rather sleep on the floor?” Blackness ruled again. “I can tie you to the bottom of the bed. You can take that pillow, but I’m keeping the blanket.” She rolled onto her back, but that made her heels touch the sheets. So she tried her side. Then her stomach.

  “Quit rolling around.”

  “I can’t get comfortable.” Her stomach actually was a bit better.

  “Why?”

  If she told him she’d gotten blisters running away from him, he’d probably mock her. Make some crack about fair.

  He didn’t press though, and his eyes stayed shut. She closed her eyes, she listened to his quiet, even breathing and let sleep reclaim her.

  When she woke again, he was gone, the lights in the passageway outside the chamber were on, indicating it was day, and she needed to pee.

  9

  Space is boring

  TOR LEANED HIS HIP against the darkened steel counter in the galley and took a long sip of eeffoc.

  From the way Klymeni’s breathing had changed in her sleep when he’d last checked on her, he had another minute, maybe two, before she woke.

  After that, probably another five before she overcame her fear and shouted for him to come untie her.

  “Torum? Torum!” Her shouts reverberated down the passageway less than three minutes later.

  He’d underestimated her.

  He pushed away from the counter.

  “Torum!”

  He rounded the corner into his chamber.

  “Untie me.” When she looked at him in the doorway, she startled. “You can’t keep me tied up indefinitely.”

  He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb.

  “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious because he’d been seriously considering the idea. She looked good in ropes.

  Her eyes widened, and she straightened awkwardly to a seated position on the side of the bed, her roped hands forcing her to bend sideways. Her long legs were folded beneath her, making him want to grab her by the toes, peel off his ridiculously big socks, and pull until those legs unwound, every long, honey-gold, toned inch of them.

  “It’s cruel, for starters.”

  He raised his brows mildly.

  “It’s immoral.”

  He snorted.

  “It makes more work for you if you have to keep bringing me food and taking me to the bathing chamber.”

  “Space is boring. I won’t really have much to do once we take off.”

  She sniffed through pinched nostrils. “The ropes are rubbing my wrists raw.”

  He took a look at her skin around the edges of the ropes. Slightly pink, but nothing unusual. “Quit tugging on them. You’ll live.”

  She shook her wrists in their ropes at him, sending her tits bouncing and her hair rippling. “You can’t punish me forever.”

  “Not forever, no. But certainly until we return Jasto to his family.”

  He squatted down, so their faces were only a few inches apart, making sure she was staring straight into his eyes. “You have managed to piss me off more often,” he said very slowly, so she was certain to understand him. “And more completely than anyone I have ever met.”

  She swallowed audibly.

  “We’re about to go into space. By all rights, I should shove you in my brig and let you rot there. If you have another hissy fit, I will. Space is not the place to fuck around.”

  She nodded tightly. “I am aware of the complexities inherent to space travel. I won’t jeopardize our safety.”

  “Tough promise since you don’t even know what you’re doing half the time.”

  She clasped her hands together on her lap. “I won’t do anything at all, except eat and sleep and bathe, without your permission.”

  “And you won’t fuck up my ship.”

  “I will not fuck up your ship,” she repeated slowly, looking a bit faint. It was probably the first time she’d cursed in her life.

  He wrinkled his brows like he was deliberating.

  “Oh, for goodness sake, just untie me.”

  He made a tsk sound tongue and rose to his full height. He set his mug down on the table beside his bed with a dull ceramic thud.

  Her eyes were about level with his groin.

  He trailed a finger along her hairline, brushing it back behind her ears. She shivered at his touch. He hissed. Those lips. He played out a little fantasy, imagined unzipping his pants, fisting his cock, telling her to open wide, sliding his way into the back of her throat. He could see it perfectly, her wide eyes looking up at him, and feel it too, the wet heat of her tongue.

  He slow-smiled and stroked her cheek, traced his thumb along the full pout of her lower lip.

  Her breath fanned over the back of his hand when she exhaled an irritable huff. “Just let me go. Please, Torum.”

  He pretended to think about it for a long moment, just staring into the wide, angry gray of her eyes.

  “I need to use the bathing chamber.” She whispered as if it were something shameful and sordid.

  With a long sigh, he untied her ropes.

  She bolted down the passageway.

  “Get dressed,” he called after her. “Take off in ten. You’ll need to strap up.”

  The door slammed.

  SHE FOUND HIM a few moments later in the bridge, calmly submitting as he retied her wrists. “Where are we going?”

  “Taking Jasto home to his family.”

  “And then?”

  “Then we will get you to a neutral zone, so you’ll be your father’s problem.”

  She sucked in her lips for a moment, then spoke in a rush. “Can we call Agammo again?”

  He thought about what her father had said, that Agammo’s father wanted peace. “Fine.”

  She swept regally into a seat before the comm and punched the button that activated the system. She’d been paying attention. She rotated the dial to enter the numerics. The comm tittered as it established a connection.

  She twisted the bindings in her lap, worrying her lip.

  A click sounded on the line.

  The little holographic comm sparked to life, a lighted blue square hovering above the device. After a moment, a young man appeared. Face thin, nose long and sharp, hair faded and curled into fat sausages. Watery eyes bugged wide. “Klymeni? Is that you?”

  “Agammo,” she trilled, sounding addled and breathy and stupid all at once. “It’s me.”

  Tor folded his arms across his chest.

  “Where are you?” The ass’s face vibrated on the holo. “Your father said you went missing, and apparently Spiro is at some base, and his brother is on trial. It’s
been ghastly. It’s all over the news.” He glared at her petulantly. “I think I’m coming down with a bug.”

  Tor snorted.

  She shot him a dark glare over her shoulder.

  Assamo stuck out his lower lip. “I’ve had such awful megrims of late. The stress of your disappearance has wreaked havoc on my social life. Reporters are everywhere. They’re calling you ‘the captive bride.’ I’ve done so many interviews, I’ve scarcely slept in days.”

  “Oh, Agammo, how perfectly awful for you. I am sorry.”

  What did she just apologize for?

  Assamo nodded as if he’d consider forgiving her, his little mouth pinching up, tight as an asshole. “Do you have any idea who your captor is?”

  Klymeni glanced at Tor uneasily.

  He shrugged back, curious to know who this little pisspot thought he was.

  “Ex-military,” he continued in a conspiratorial tone, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm. “He used to run raids on the fringe colonies. Now he takes down the worst murderers and thieves in the universe, runs them to Insuractius. Think about that, Klym. To catch them, he has to be worse than all of them.”

  Tor shrugged. That was certainly the reputation that had won so many contracts over the years.

  Klymeni glanced his way. “He is rather appalling. It’s true.”

  He shrugged, and he’d have sworn a ghost of a smile flickered over her features.

  “But he didn’t abduct me. He helped me escape Spiro so I could come back to you.”

  Assamo licked his lips. “When are you coming back?”

  “That’s just it. I need help. Torum can’t go to Argentus. He’d be arrested.”

  “And so he should be.”

  Tor pictured a whole clone-army of this little shit coming for him, sausage curls bouncing, and he laughed.

  “I thought maybe you could come get me.”

  “You want me to leave Argentus?” Assamo’s nose wrinkled.

  “I thought you’d come for me.” She looked so eager and hopeful, it pulled at some part of Tor that he’d left back on Vesta ten years ago, some place softer, some place that hadn’t seen blood and misery and guts and learned to expect it. He gritted his teeth.

  “Our engagement has been formally terminated by the Bonding Tribunal. You’re officially engaged to Spiro Willo now. They’ve engaged me to your friend Malina. If you need cred, I could send some.”

  Her shoulders went rigid, and she touched her fingers to the strand of Argenti pearls around her neck as she always did when she was upset, and Tor had to resist the urge to smack Assamo’s hovering holographic head.

  Klymeni brushed at a strand of hair. “Do you want to wed Malina?”

  Assamo’s eyes darted at the bindings on her wrists. “Gods, Klym. Is that rope? Has he harmed you?”

  She dropped her hands fast. “What? Of course not.”

  “I saw it. Klymeni, what is the meaning of that? Good gods, think of your reputation. Has he touched you?”

  Her chin came up. “I didn’t ask him to restrain me. Do you want to Bond with Malina?”

  Assamo made the weirdest face, open-mouthed, tilted down at the corners, eyebrows raised up to his hairline. It was a face that said he’d never even considered having an opinion in the matter. “It’s not up to me. Our fathers are fighting in the Senate. My father is trying to forge peace with the Allian—”

  “So that’s it, then. You’d j—”

  Tor had no idea what she was about to say, and he didn’t want to find out. “Enough.” He pushed the button, and Assamo’s holographic head imploded.

  Silence surrounded them.

  Klymeni sucked in her lower lip.

  Tor wasn’t sure what just happened. But he was pretty sure Assamo had been about to shit all over every dream a motherless girl with a loveless father had ever had in her entire life.

  She sat there for a long time, staring blankly at the air where the holo had been, her hands clenched in her lap, her lip tucked in. Finally, moving like a robot, she rose from her seat and headed for the passageway.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  She didn’t turn back. “I’d like a few moments to myself, please.”

  “Not yet,” he said, feeling an unusual stab of guilt. “We’re lifting off. You need to strap in.”

  Her shoulders squared, and she moved slowly back to the seat.

  He checked her harness, cinching the straps that went over her shoulders to the one that belted her waist.

  The last closure connected over her chest to a strap between her thighs. The dress made it awkward, and she did nothing to help, just sat there, limp and unmoving, and she was sitting on the bottom half of the harness.

  He had to ruck her dress up around her thighs, exposing smooth skin, and slide his hand beneath her ass and between her thighs to get to the one she sat on.

  For a few scorching seconds, his forearm pressed against the heat of her lower belly. Her eyes flicked to him then, dark gray and sad.

  He should probably say something nice and reassuring, but nice and reassuring wasn’t his thing. Never had been.

  Instead, he buckled her up, careful not to touch her more than necessary, and took his own seat.

  Lift-off was smooth, kicking up a cloud of white dust around the thrusters. Quick and painless, and in seventy-two seconds, they passed into the planet’s stratosphere.

  He glanced over at Klymeni.

  She’d barely moved.

  Her bare legs, honey tan and endless, disappeared into the folded-over tops of his socks, which were stained yellow and brown along the heels and the tops of her toes. Weird, considering how fastidious she usually was. He glanced up at her face and got distracted by the haunted look in her eyes.

  Her bound hands rested in her lap, she stared unflinchingly out the viewscreen at nothing.

  “He’s a dick too.”

  She made a face, probably thinking he was also a dick and she was surrounded by dicks, but still didn’t say anything.

  He cleared his throat. “Go lie down.”

  She made no move to unbuckle herself.

  After a moment, he did it for her and tugged her out of the seat.

  When she stood, she stumbled, lurching into him. As he caught her, his hands closed around her waist until she was steady to stand on her own and limped down the passageway.

  10

  Let’s talk about peace

  TOR WAITED until she was gone, down the hallway and out of earshot, before hacking into an Argenti tech portal and reentering Agammo’s numerics.

  “Klym, I ju—” Assamo answered almost immediately, but he broke off when he looked at Tor’s face hulking on the holo.

  Tor smiled, leaning back in his seat. “Let’s talk about peace.”

  Agammo frowned.

  Tor leaned forward, his hands resting on either side of the holo feed, staring into Agammo’s long-nosed face. “Have you heard of Tamminia?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “I’m the regio.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud and surprisingly, he didn’t hate the way it sounded as much as he’d have expected.

  Agammo’s eyes widened, and his mouth popped open. “Of Tamminia?”

  “If we leave, it’s one of the last dominos holding up the Alliance. Other countries would join. The Alliance will do anything to avoid that. We could force a peace.”

  That asshole mouth turned upside down. “What would you want in exchange?”

  Tor folded his hands behind his head. There wasn’t really anything they needed, aside from peace. But Vesta could always use… “Munitions, at least a mil, premium grade, Argenti rezals complete with appropriate spare parts, tools, cleaning equipment, holsters, and shields.”

  Agammo’s jaw dropped. “You want us to send weapons to our enemy?”

  “No. I want you to send weapons to your ally. Tamminia will officially become Argentus’s boots on the ground. I want to stop the Alliance, you want
to end the war between Argentus and Vesta. To do that, we need some assurances from you. Ten billion cred, the rezals and a fleet, fifty thousand strong of FRS-21s.”

  “That’s ridiculous. They’ll never go for it.”

  “They will,” Tor said. “We’d need hostages too. Argentis on the ground, so we’d know it’s for real. I’d need it on record from the Premier himself. No going back. We take down the Alliance, we end the war, but we’d need to have assurances that you wouldn’t bomb us to hell as soon as it was over.”

  Assamo was entering the demands into his digi frantically, his lips moving as he entered.

  “One last thing. If you speak to Klymeni again, you will be nice. You will apologize.”

  His eyes nearly burst. “I am always nice to her. She is like a sister to me.”

  “Gross. That’s fucked up, man. You were going to marry your sister?”

  “That’s not what I m—”

  “Talk to your father. What’re his numerics?”

  Tor dialed them into his system when Assamo regurgitated them. “Have him talk to his Senate. I’ll talk to him then.”

  Agammo’s mouth popped open, closed, popped open, closed.

  “Good talk.” Tor terminated the call.

  With his elbows resting on his knees, he turned to look down the empty passageway. His mind kept going back to those stained socks.

  11

  And then you blew on me

  KLYM’S HEART WAS BREAKING.

  It didn’t make sense. Her father was one thing—he’d never cared about her. All he’d ever cared about was his career and maybe the ghost of her mother. But Agammo... he’d acted like she meant nothing.

  And Malina? How could he? How could she?

  No. She couldn’t really blame Malina. She had no choice either.

  But here she was, stuck with an enemy Vestige and no clear way to get home.

  She winced as she set her foot down too quickly on a metal floor grate. As soon as she rounded the doorway into Torum’s bedchamber, she let her gait relax into a wretched limp.

  She scrambled for her holo-cam and set it to play its holo-reel. Her mother’s shape burst to life, full-sized and bright, smiling and laughing, singing songs, bouncing her as a baby. Klym sat on the bed, her eyes burning. Usually, the holos comforted her, being surrounded by proof that her mother had loved her once.