Gravity (Dark Anomaly Book 1)

by Marina Simcoe

  “I invite the Federation Forces to come and hold me responsible, then.” He swiveled to leave. “Around here, there is no law but mine!”

  EVERYTHING INSIDE ME bubbled with resentment. No, it was no longer just that. Fear and indignation grew into panic and bred hot, searing anger.

  Vrateus wouldn’t listen to me. He had no intention of letting me go, refusing even to let me try. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in being rescued, either. Why would he want to leave this place?

  “Around here, there is no law but mine.”

  He could do anything he wanted on the Anomaly. There was no fear of retribution for him. He could write his own laws and alter them at will.

  I didn’t change out of my suit. I couldn’t even glance at the clothes on the rack. They must have been collected from the shipwrecks. The women who’d worn them long gone.

  When Vrateus came for me later, he gave me an exasperated look, seeing me still in my bodysuit.

  “I said I’m not doing it,” I muttered gruffly.

  “Then, I must take you in as you are.” He moved my way, and I quickly retreated.

  Instead of chasing me around the room, he stopped in the middle. “You know that except for errocks, none of the other species would hesitate before entering this room. They will come here if I don’t present you to them in a few minutes as promised.”

  I just glared at him, my head low.

  “If they get in here once, they will no longer view this room as off-limits. Even if you survive tonight by some miracle, you’ll lose your one safe place in the Anomaly. They will come back.”

  Misery flooded through me, smothering all my senses. I felt helpless as the situation seemed inescapable.

  “Can’t you see? This is the only solution for them to leave you alone.” He took a small step toward me, his voice soothing as if he were talking to a skittish animal. He obviously thought of me as nothing more than an animal if he believed he could put me on display in front of a crowd like that. “You will let them look at you tonight, let me touch you in front of them. Just me, no one else. Only then can I guarantee your life and safety.”

  “I—I can’t...” I hated the way my lip shook, and my voice trembled. I hated the feeling of being all alone, already exposed and vulnerable, even if still fully clothed.

  Heaving a sigh, he said in a somber voice, “You have to.”

  I shook my head, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.

  “Svetlana.” The sound of my name from him shook me. I snapped my gaze to his face as he stared at me imploringly. “I want you to live.”

  I hated him so much at that moment. He even somehow schooled his features into a kind expression, using a soft voice with emotion, even saying my name to get his way.

  One thing he had been right about: it really didn’t matter what I wanted.

  He had the means to make me do what he wished. Whatever sick game he was playing here, I could only play along. At least for tonight.

  Then, I would start working on my escape plan from this hell. On my own.

  I was glad that he hadn’t let me share the details of my idea with him. I’d have to do it without his assistance, and against his “laws”.

  Stepping closer, he suddenly placed his hand on my throat, causing a spike of panic. His expression remained calm, if severe. This gesture, however, could mean anything, from anger, to aggression, to threat. His grip remained gentle enough, though. He wasn’t compressing my throat, just touching it.

  His face came close enough for me to see the true color of his eyes for the first time. They were of an intense shade somewhere between brown and yellow—burnt orange—with black pupils shaped like vertical slits, like those of a cat.

  I stilled under his intense stare, the fur on the back of his hand tickling my chin, the warmth of his hand seeping through my skin.

  “Will it be just you tonight? Touching me?” I croaked, not believing myself. Was I actually about to go through with this perversity?

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  “No one else?”

  I’d glimpsed enough slimy tentacles, hard scales, and sharp talons on some of the males to make my stomach drop with terror at the mere thought of those coming anywhere near my naked body.

  “No,” he promised.

  “And you won’t hurt me? I mean no physical pain?”

  The focus in his eyes sharpened. “Unless you want it to be—”

  “No!” I shook my head vehemently. In no way did I trust anyone here, Vrateus included, to deliver any kind of erotic pain. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  “I won’t, then.” He held my stare, keeping his hand on my neck.

  “I have to change,” I half-whispered, unable to stand the contact any longer.

  He had made an excellent point when he said I shouldn’t wear my own clothes for this.

  “Right.” He let go of my neck, and I drew in a breath.

  Even though his grip on my throat hadn’t been tight, his mere proximity seemed to have deprived me of oxygen.

  “Can you leave?” I asked. “So I can change?”

  “No.”

  Fine. Over seven hundred men were about to see me naked. It might as well start now.

  I tugged down the front closure of my suit. Vrateus, at least, had the decency to turn around when the suit opened.

  Walking over to the rack, I yanked the first garment off the hanger, something in canary yellow. I got out of my suit and threw the dress on over my bra and underwear. It had a long puffy skirt and a wide belt that I tied around my waist.

  The entire process took me only a few seconds.

  “I’m ready.”

  He turned around, giving me an assessing look.

  “Do you want to change out of your boots, too?”

  “Really?” I huffed a sharp laugh.

  Did he need me in a well-coordinated outfit for this?

  Arguing, however, would only prolong the whole thing.

  “Fine.” I kicked off my boots and rummaged in the long chest on the bottom of the clothing rack.

  Finding shoes that would fit me wasn’t as easy as the dress. Many had been worn by alien women with feet shaped differently than mine. Some were long and flared at the toes, some had been obviously made to fit over hooves. Finally, I fished out a pair of golden sandals with adjustable straps.

  “Done.” I straightened after fastening the straps over my feet and around my ankles.

  The sooner this nightmare started, the sooner it would be over.

  Chapter 6

  VRATEUS

  His hand around Svetlana’s arm, he steered her down the corridor and toward the mess hall. Crux and Nocc led the way. Trox, Wyck, and Lesh were at the back.

  The dress she was wearing had no sleeves. The acute awareness of her bare skin under his palm was unnervingly distracting. He needed to keep his focus on the errocks, watching them as they watched everyone else. Yet his attention kept drifting back to that one warm spot of contact with her body.

  The mess hall was the largest room they had on the Dark Anomaly. The layout of the living area had been changing over the years, with new ships crashing to the outer edge and the old ones compressing closer to the center. However, the changes were slow, and he had used this room for major gatherings for the entire seven years of his being the captain.

  His crew already filled the space. Males sat on the chairs and tables that had been haphazardly arranged around the room. Some of the climbing species clung to the walls higher up. At least a dozen or two swung on the glowing ropes of light suspended from the ceiling.

  Svetlana skipped a step, coming to a sudden stop at the entrance, her mouth agape, her dark eyes wide open.

  He tried to see the scene through her eyes. The sweaty, mostly naked male bodies of all shapes, colors, and sizes. The musky scent of their combined anticipation hanging heavily in the air. Leering eyes. Smirking mouths. Bared teeth, dripping with saliva. All of this must be disconcerting to her—terr
ifying, judging by her expression.

  “They won’t touch you.” He forced more reassurance into his voice than he felt.

  The space was charged with lust and aggression, making him worry about his ability to keep his promise. Over the years, he had successfully dealt with his crew’s rage, frustration, and aggression. However, he could not predict with any certainty what their combined arousal would do.

  A rumble of growls, groans, and grunts rolled through the room when Svetlana finally took a tiny step in. It was followed by a shower of leers and screamed obscenities that he had no desire to focus on—as long as they weren’t threats.

  “This way.” He walked Svetlana to the wall to the right.

  Keeping his attention on the crowd, he made sure not to put anyone but his personal guard of errocks at his back. When he reached the spot he’d chosen for her performance, he edged the errocks out of the way, too, by stepping back to the wall until his tail touched it.

  He moved Svetlana in front of him, turning her to face the room, her back to his chest. Her body trembled in his arms. He wrapped his hand around her neck, to check her vitals again. Through the sensors in his palm, he took a note of her pulse, body temperature, blood pressure, and rate of breathing—all significantly higher than what they had been in her room.

  “Ready?”

  “I never will be,” she gritted through her teeth.

  That was worrisome.

  “I promised them some moans.”

  “Well, you can go ahead and moan then,” she bit off.

  He might not know much about women, but he assumed that to make Svetlana orgasm he’d need her co-operation.

  “They’re expecting to see and hear you.” If she continued to stand there like that, tense and glaring at everyone, he suspected his crew would complain bitterly. Unfortunately, most of them complained aggressively. He’d need to kill many. They would want to kill him. And her. “You don’t have a choice.”

  “And I hate you for that,” she hissed.

  Him?

  The shock of surprise rushed through his brain, echoing deep in his chest.

  Why would she hate him when every single thing he’d done from the moment she’d crashed here was to save her life? Her lack of gratitude for that had been puzzling.

  Was she not glad to be alive?

  It occurred to him that he had never asked her if she wanted to be saved. He’d assumed her species had similar self-preservation instincts to his. However, he’d read about some instances of individuals preferring death to pain or dishonor.

  The situation didn’t leave Svetlana much of a choice—either entertain his crew by disrobing and pleasuring herself for their entertainment, or risk being raped and eventually killed by them instead.

  He could, however, offer her something else. Something he hadn’t considered before.

  “Would you rather die?” he asked earnestly.

  Sliding his hand between them, he bared one of the blades he carried hidden on his body. He pressed the tip of the dagger below her left shoulder blade.

  He could give her a clean, fast death—a luxury compared to the fate of any other female who had ever had the misfortune of landing on the Dark Anomaly.

  “I’ll make it quick,” he promised. “And as painless as possible.”

  Deprived of their entertainment, his crew would most likely end up ripping him to pieces right after. That fact somehow wasn’t at the front of his mind at the moment.

  She stilled under his blade. The males in the room quieted down too, expectant. Some unfastened their pants, leaning back. Ready.

  Her pulse beat faster under his palm. Her breathing turned to shallow, irregular gasps.

  “No,” she said softly, and he exhaled in relief.

  For some unexplained reason, he wanted her to stay alive more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life.

  “I’ll do it.” She yanked at the belt around her waist, untying it.

  A roar of approval rolled through the mess hall.

  He discreetly slid the dagger back into its sheath at his chest. His shoulders still ached from the strain and tension he’d felt while waiting for her answer.

  Her hands trembling, Svetlana opened the front of her dress, revealing a pink harness underneath that holstered her breasts. Moving her hands behind her, she unhooked the closure at the back. The harness slacked around her chest.

  Groans, wet sounds of approval, and clicking noises of unfastened clothes filled the room. Crux leaned back against the nearest table, whipping out both of his cocks. The kreers under the ceiling produced their genital clusters from the pouches on their segmented bellies. Crawling over each other, yourlu spread their tentacles open in a circle. Their undulating reproductive organs snaked out from the middle.

  Svetlana staggered back, coming flush with his chest. “You do it...” Her throat bobbed with a swallow under his palm. “Please.”

  With a deep breath, he slid his other hand to her front, praying he’d get it right.

  The sight of naked males groping themselves couldn’t be helpful in getting her to relax, he assumed.

  “Close your eyes.” He tried to sound confident, hiding his inexperience.

  She obeyed with a brief shuddered sigh.

  Thinking back to everything he had read and watched during his recent research into female pleasure, he lifted his hand to her chest, cupping one full breast through her pink harness.

  Her breasts were much larger than those of the themul female in the video. Heavy. He understood why Svetlana would need to strap them for support.

  Her breathing hitched, and he moved his hand higher, sliding the dress and the straps of the harness from her shoulders. The dress slipped off, the voluminous skirt pooling at her feet. The harness followed.

  He touched her bare breast, carefully. The images of the thrashing and growling female in the video came to mind again. Was that the way it had to be done? Was that how women liked it? Rough and furious?

  “Don’t hurt me,” Svetlana had pleaded.

  It didn’t feel right to grab her by her hair.

  Pushing the memories of the video aside, he followed his instincts instead. In addition, he kept one of his hands around her throat at all times, consulting the pattern of her erratic vitals.

  Palming her naked breast, he found it surprisingly soft, her skin exceptionally smooth and silky. It wrinkled around the tip as the nipple hardened under his thumb. He marvelled at the change, rolling the tight bud between his fingers.

  She exhaled sharply. A tiny sound vibrated in her throat.

  An echo of a moan?

  A sudden urge to taste her skin rose in him, like the male in the video had. Except that he couldn’t do that here. His attention was already spread thin. He had to concentrate on his next move with her, continuously watching her reaction while also being mindful of everything happening around them—keeping track of the positions of everyone on his crew while gauging everyone’s mood.

  So far, they seemed to be enthralled, whether with lust or curiosity. The sight of a half-naked female was a novelty to many of them. However, not all would find her body alone appealing enough. The physical differences between humans and some of the species here were just too great.

  They needed to see her thrash in the throngs of passion, to hear her moan, just as he had promised. Then, he hoped, their imagination would fill in the blanks to complete whatever image or fantasy each of them needed to achieve satisfaction.

  He moved to fondle her other breast, while stroking the side of her neck with the thumb of his other hand. Not wanting to remove his hand from her throat, he reached with his tail. Wrapping it around her leg, he stroked the inside of her thigh with the tip.

  She made a slight gasp at the caress of the fur of his tail.

  He slid his hand lower, down her stomach and under the waistband of the short underpants she was wearing.

  Several disgruntled growls came from the room, reminding him she had to be com
pletely naked. He tugged her shorts down, past her hips and she wiggled her legs to make the underwear slide down to her ankles.

  He discovered she had fur between her legs. Short and springy, it differed from the long, silky hair on her head. He parted it with his fingers, finding by touch the small nub he had read would bring an orgasm to a themul female if stimulated. He hoped it would cause a pleasurable sensation in Svetlana, too.

  He circled it with his finger, applying a little pressure while stroking her inner thigh with his tail.

  Her breathing deepened, and she bent forward slightly, prompting him to finally remove his hand from her neck. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her chest, cupping one of her breasts as he continued to rub between her legs with his other hand.

  She grabbed his hand on her breast, lacing her fingers with his. Her body relaxed into his arms, a small shiver running through her in response to his touch.

  He blinked, amazed and thrilled by the reactions he was causing in her. It felt like a dance where he led, and she followed. The harmony that the two of them hadn’t been able to achieve through conversation was suddenly happening wordlessly.

  Tossing her head back on his shoulder, she whimpered softly.

  He caught a glimpse of a new expression on her face. It conveyed both pleasure and ache. The same sweet torture he was experiencing that very moment as her backside pressed against his straining erection.

  Then, he sensed her body tense. She circled his wrist with her fingers and yanked at his arm, shifting his hand away from the spot between her legs.

  Whatever he had just ignited inside her, she forced it down, unwilling to let go.

  “Pretend, if you must,” he whispered.

  She drew in some air then released a moan. Strong and loud, it was immediately echoed with grunts and groans from the males who rubbed, stroked, and fondled themselves.

  She continued to thrash in his arms, making sounds that he now knew were fake.

  A moment later, she stilled. Her eyes still closed, she appeared to be listening to the room, hugging his arms to her.

  He glanced around the mess hall quickly, noting the slumped positions of the males. Most appeared satisfied. The rest were catching up. Crux reclined in a chair by the table, a limp cock draped over each of his thighs. A greenish puddle glistened on the floor between his feet.