by Alana Khan
“It’s clearly Stockholm Syndrome, Grace. I’ve got to help her understand she isn’t bound to that devil! I want to get her out of the cellblock and away from him and his influence. She doesn’t know me from Adam. You rescued her. Perhaps she trusts you. Come with me. Help me talk some sense into her.”
I’m a quiet person. I’ve never tried to persuade anyone to do anything. I’m a horrible choice for this job. However, I’d give anything to leave my room right now, to avoid any difficult discussions with Tyree. He’s still lying in bed, his back toward the door, although he has to be awake by now.
“Well, if you really think I could be of service...I’d be happy to help. Have a seat. I’ll be out of the shower and completely dressed in five minutes.”
I know she didn’t believe my time frame, but I’m dressed, my wet hair pulled into a ponytail in less than seven minutes. Before I leave, I set Tyree’s clothes in a neat pile on the bed. I hope it’s a clear message for him to vacate before I return.
A few minutes later, my jaw tenses as we enter the hallway connected to the cell block. My God, this brings back horrifying memories. I’d contemplated suicide every waking hour for days on end when I was here two months ago. I felt so alone, so isolated, so hopeless. My life is immeasurably better now—partially due to Tyree. He’s a terrific male. I enjoy him so much.
I think of our silly food fight the other day. He even makes watching boring vids fun. And he’s so solicitous about my needs and wants...and desires. Too bad he’s stuck on this truemate thing. I simply can’t give away my self, my autonomy.
My fear ratchets up ten notches after we cross the threshold of the cellblock, and it goes through the roof when the door closes behind me. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Callista looks at me, white showing all the way around her eyes—she feels it, too.
“You sure we want to do this?” I ask. “I hope it goes fast, I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“Me, too. But let’s give it our best shot, Grace. The girl is young and scared and obviously confused. We have to try to get her out of his clutches.”
They’re both in the third cell; the one Anya and Zar occupied. This is where their love bloomed. It strikes me that Tawny and the red-and-black devil should be in any cell but this.
It looks like someone allowed them to drag a second mattress in there. Both beds are pulled together on the floor. Tawny and the devil look like they’re spooning under the covers. Bile rises in my throat as I picture being in that position with one of the Urluts, the boar-like aliens who kidnapped me from Earth. I can’t imagine wanting one of them near me, much less touching me. Unlike this bastard, they never laid a hand on me and certainly never tortured me.
“Tawny? Remember me? We didn’t get introduced, but I’m Grace. I helped you escape.”
She rises from the bed, steps over the devil lying next to her and stands a foot inside the bars across from us. “You killed the Emperor. I watched you stab him until your arm was too tired to move.”
I feel Callista’s eyes bore into me. I suppose it is kind of shocking for her to know that quiet, unassuming Grace stabbed that motherfucker so many times she was drenched in his blood.
“Yes. No one should allow themselves to be treated badly. If someone hurts us, we should rise up if we have the means to do so.” I wait, hoping to see awareness and agreement dawn on her beautiful, bruised face—nothing.
“I’m Cally. I was a prisoner in one of these cells a few months ago, Tawny. We rebelled. We defeated our captors. None of them will torment us anymore.”
She looks at us, eyes empty, with zero comprehension.
Cally goes on, pointedly glancing at the male on the floor, then back at Tawny. “I’m not a psychiatrist or anything, but I think you’re suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.”
Tawny shakes her head, her features tight, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t remember all the specifics, but I think patrons at a bank were held hostage by some bad guys and at the end of the ordeal they wanted to protect their captors. They named a syndrome after it to show that sometimes people get their thoughts turned around when they’ve been in grave danger. They think the aggressor is their friend.”
Tawny shrugs, looking clueless.
“You admitted to Dr. Drayke that he,” Cally points at him, almost as if she’s a witness in a courtroom drama, “tortured and abused you, yet you want to stay in this horrid cell with him. We have a lovely cabin in a wing of this ship where all of us women live. We’d love to be friends. We want to help you. We don’t understand why you’re sleeping on the floor with a male who hurt you.”
“I don’t know you. I don’t know either of you. I know Devi. I want to stay with him.” Her shoulders pull back, her chest thrusts out, her jaw is rigid. “I’m not confused. I don’t have Stockholm Syndrome. I’m staying right here.” She points at the floor. “With Devi.”
Cally’s mouth works although no words come out. Her eyes shine brightly with unshed tears. “Tawny. Think about what you’re doing. He’s not safe.”
“I don’t have to explain things to you. I don’t owe you anything.” She takes a deep breath, glancing back at the male who’s under the covers behind her. “I have no idea how long I was in captivity. What year is it?”
Her eyes widen in shock when we tell her. “I was in his clutches for three years.” She shivers in repulsion for a moment, absorbing the enormity of that fact. “There are only two living people who know what happened during those...what, thousand days? Only the two people on this side of these bars know the truth. I’m staying here.” With that, she turns on her heel and steps over the prone figure on the floor. She climbs under the blanket she shares with her abuser and turns her back to us.
“I’ll be back, Tawny,” Cally says, her voice strong and firm. “You’ll see the truth when you give it some thought. You’re just all turned around inside.”
Silence.
We exit the cell block.
“Not exactly the outcome we’d hoped for,” I tell Cally.
“My heart hurts for her. She’s totally brainwashed.” Cally shakes her head sadly.
“It will just take time. We’ll help her see the truth, and when she does, we’ll bring that bastard to justice.”
~.~
I grab some lunch from the dining area and bring it back to my cabin. I hope Tyree got my hint and cleared out.
He made the bed and left absolutely no trace of himself in my room. Maybe it’s better that way.
I sit on the little chair in the corner, eating a mystery meat sandwich. Maddie called it Crayton Dergar, but it was barely edible and the fancy name was like putting lipstick on a pig—it didn’t dress up the taste.
It’s quiet in here. Too quiet. I don’t like the silence. I miss Tyree’s jokes and, frankly, I miss his presence.
I can’t help but think about Tawny. How pathetic. Her resemblance to my mom irritates me. I don’t like weak women. She’s giving up her happiness, her comfort, her safety, for what? To please a man Tyree described as an abusive monster?
That’s spineless and pitiful, and I try to have no sympathy for her—but I do. I feel sorry for her neediness, her willingness to sell her soul for approval from that despicable male. I never want to do that.
My thoughts stop. They grind to a halt like when a stick is thrown into the gears of a machine. Although I have crystal clarity of why I don’t want to be Tyree’s truemate, that whole line of thinking doesn’t make sense anymore.
I review my concerns: I don’t want to give up pieces of myself to please anyone. Riiight.
Then I page through the book labeled Tyree in my mind. I look at every chapter, every scene of every minute we’ve spent together, from when he was three-foot-tall little female elf Tyree, to big, strapping gorgeous muscular Tyree. From watching vids during a sleepover, to throwing food in the kitchen, to fighting for our lives on Emirus, to making love on that bed.
The
bed stares at me accusingly. I stare back. Then I return to paging through my Tyree book. I’m looking closely, but I can’t find one chapter or page or paragraph where he tried to take me away from me. I can’t find one sentence where he told me what to do or asked something of me that wasn’t in my best interests. Not. One.
The only tense moment between the two of us was about my inability to say I didn’t want to eat the sack of shit. And the tension was because he was encouraging me to speak up for myself—the opposite of telling me what to do.
He risked his life to stay behind and save Tawny. He was more worried about my safety than his own in that dungeon when he was practically being flayed alive. This man would never, ever want me to do anything that wasn’t good for me. How did he describe a truemate? Linked, connected, eternally joined. Would that be so terrible? Really?
My breath huffs out as it dawns on me, not in tiny increments, but in one big avalanche—I love him. I love him and he loves me. He said it. He’s shown it—over and over in fact—repeatedly, and in many ways.
How long would it have taken me if I had dated Barbarian, or Rocky, or Butch or any of the guys my mother went out with to figure out they were assholes? Less than an hour. How long would it take to figure out the male in the cell with Tawny is a devil? A minute—just look at him.
I’m not stupid, or gullible. I’m smart. I’m smart enough to discern a good male from a bad one. And I’m smart enough to know I’m in love with Tyree—and he would never hurt me.
If there’s anything I learned in that fucking dungeon, it’s that life is short. I could spend the next week or month or year debating and wondering about this decision—I would have done that in my old life. But the new Grace is resolute and strong. I have all the information I need to make a decision—in fact, the decision’s already been made!
Chapter Fifteen
Tyree
I tolerated about half an houra alone in my room after I left Grace’s. I’m just learning who I am, and I’m still not sure of a lot about myself now that I’m male. But I do know I’m not the type to sit around and stay idle or feel self-pity.
I’m in the ludus, practicing with the chainsticks. I know I’ll get better at fighting and sparring, although how could I compete with anyone in this vessel full of gladiators? However, I’ll never be good at these dracking sticks. Shadow chided me for not paying attention, but I was paying complete attention, and all I have to show for it is a lump on my jaw the size of an oreg egg.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go eat or watch a vid, Tyree? You’re useless here. If you don’t pay better attention, you’re going to kill yourself...or an innocent bystander,” Shadow scolds.
“I am paying attention.”
“You told me what happened with you and Grace on Emirus. She rejected you and you’re mooning over her. If you were paying full attention to your martial arts, why are you sprouting an erection?”
I look down and sheepishly see the evidence for all to see. Okay, maybe I wasn’t paying complete attention to those dracking, deadly chainsticks. What purpose are they supposed to serve anyway?
My thoughts drift to Grace. I’m not wallowing in self-pity in my room for a reason. I’m a male of action. I’m not going to sit back and wait for fate to fix things for me. I’m struck by an image of the mating behavior of the Nygrin birds on Larian. I used to watch them as a child.
The males would bring the females the choicest bits of food, and the females would fly away, not even tasting the morsels. The males would just repeat this behavior for days, trying with every instinct they had to please the female. They wouldn’t give up even though as a child I couldn’t understand why they kept trying. After a while, I realized that eventually they always got rewarded.
I’m not giving up. I know what pleases Grace. I will keep approaching her with things I know she likes. I’ll persist in letting her see my love for her shining through. I have all the time in the galaxy. We’re stuck on this ship together. I’ll keep being my best self for her. She’ll have to eventually realize we’ll be amazing together.
The ludus suddenly goes silent. No sound of grunting or sparring, no loud clang of metal weights hitting the floor. Every eye in the room focuses on the door, then slides to me, and then back to the door.
I slowly swivel to see Grace in that gorgeous green dress. The eye-popping dress she said matches my eyes. The sexy dress that’s been deprived of the modest covering of black lace at her bust and shows far too much of her heaving bosom. She was correct when she complained that the dress was cut so low her breasts would spill out the top.
I want to threaten the males with death if they spend one more modicum drinking in the sight of her. But I don’t want to turn my back on her to accomplish that.
She seems unaware of my protective anger as she hurries toward me, then stands far too close for comfort. At my vantage point, I can’t help looking down into the vee of her dress. She was right, you can see a hint of the pink of her nipples peeking from beneath the threshold of the top.
“Tyree, can we talk?”
I’m a complete drack. Any male worth the air he breathes wouldn’t be stealing peeks at her breasts. I force my eyes to her face. She looks serious and...so many emotions swirling there I have no way of discerning what’s going on behind her large blue eyes.
“Certainly.” I’m still standing, paralyzed. I think my heart stopped beating in my chest. I can’t read her—don’t know what she wants.
“Tyree!” Shadow yells from the other side of the weights. “Get the drack out of here. Go with that female unless you want to mount her right here in front of every male on the ship.”
His words propel me forward; I take Grace’s elbow and escort her out the double doors into the hallway. Then I stop. Like when a machine runs out of fuel. I just stand there, as if waiting for direction.
“Could we...could we go somewhere private to talk?” Grace asks.
I’m still not moving. My brain has shut down.
“Like your room? Or my room? Or the solarium?”
I love the solarium. Even when it’s empty, to me it’s still filled with Grace’s music. I don’t release her elbow—I practically drag her there.
We’re here, surrounded on three sides and the ceiling by darkness and stars: there’s a purple-tinged nebula off to the right. Grace looks so beautiful I can’t tear my eyes from her.
“I’m an idiot—”
“Don’t talk like that about the woman I love, Grace. I won’t allow it.”
“I’m…I had a whole speech planned out, Tyree. I was going to explain myself and tell you my feelings, and beg your forgiveness for being an idi...But then you go and ruin it by being awesome and terrific and telling me you love me even though I’m a dolt.”
“You’re not a dolt, either. But I’d like to hear more.” My heart has unclenched for the first time in days. I think I’ve gotten a reprieve. I want to hear every word. I slip my hands from her elbows to her naked shoulders and pull her a step closer. I truly want to hear every word. I also want to glance down her dress and see those magnificent breasts rise and fall with every breath she takes.
“I realized I’m not going to lose myself. I can still be Grace even though I’m in a relationship with you. As a matter of fact, in some ways I’ve found myself. I’m strong. I called Gren names and was ready to go to battle with him. I protected myself on Emirus. I wasn’t intimidated by the Emperor. Even before he acted crazy I knew that ten of him wasn’t worth one of you, Tyree. You’re...magnificent.”
Her eyes dart to mine for the first time since she collected me in the ludus.
“I can love you—which I do by the way—with all my heart, and not lose myself. You’ve talked about truemates, but I don’t know what that is. Can you explain it?”
“You probably have something like it on Earth, Amara. On Larian it’s a product of biology. Between you and me it will be a commitment of our souls. I love the idea that this hasn’t happened by
a simple accident of chemistry—with you and me it’s happened by choice. It will be so much more profound.
“It means we love each other and will stay together and work in tandem for what we want. We decide what’s good for us as a team and we pull together in the same direction to accomplish it. Our decisions are always mutual. We want what’s best for each other. When each of us puts the other first, things always work out.
“Truemates. Forever and always. You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be by your side.” I pierce her with a stare that I hope shows her just how serious I am.