“Shut up, Carmen,” Princesa mutters, distracted in thought.
“Thank you,” Sandra says, halting my exit with her unexpected gratitude.
I peer over my broad shoulder to find the fire-haired female standing near the bars—unafraid, but sincere.
“That’s why I wanted to speak to you. To thank you for saving me.” Her gaze drops toward her fidgeting hands. “When that monster attacked me... I fought as hard as I could, but I couldn’t stop him. Ithought...he’d… hurt me. But then you saved me, just when I gave up hope.” Her blue eyes meet mine, simmering like the pale blue of her planet. “I’ll always be grateful for what you did for me. I know, underneath, you have a good heart.” She finishes with a nod, as if releasing words that have been burning inside her.
The words wash over me, soothing, like water on the embers of my rage. Yet, they carry muchnaivete. For within my chest beats not something good or kind, but something molten—dark, craving vengeance and blood. And I will pay any price, make any sacrifice, to feed its hunger.
Her bloodied nudity stirs something within me, the way she stands almost pleading, full of alluring innocence, with no thought to cover herself from my gaze. This is trust. This is submission. And I will repay it, ensuring she is tended to, just as I planned.
My hands dart over my wrist console, bringing the cell bars crashing down. I watch Carmen with a keen eye, expecting her to attempt a futile escape. Yet she makes no move, just watching with eyes like anarrohawk.
I beckon to Sandra with a hand, “Come.”
Sandra glides forward while Princesa’s silver eyes dart between us in disbelief. “What about me?”
“You?” My molten gaze sweeps over the indignant female. “Speak less.” My voice rumbles like distant thunder before a storm.
Princesa shakes with barely restrained anger before retreating to her furs in a sulk. I punctuate my words by sending the cell bars clanging upward.
Let her contemplate the error of her ways.
Chapter 15
Alexandra
Contemplation
Whodoeshethinkhe is? That big red asshole! I seethe with rage beneath the furs, practically vibrating, sitting cross-legged upon the cold metal floor of our cell.
“Speak less.” Dracoth’s words echo through my mind, in his big, dumb voice. Where does he get off telling me how to behave, or what to say? Isn’t it enough that he has me locked in this shitty prison cell, but now I’m not even supposed to speak? Well, fuck that! He’s taken everything else from me, but he’ll not take my voice.
Prison cell.I scoff at the thought, scanning the area, seeing nothing but black metal walls and thick bars, and dim purple lights like a tacky restaurant. Not to mention the hole in the ground that’s a disgraceful indignity. All we have are soft fursfor comfort and the riveting conversations. I glance sourly at the almost mute, spaced-out Kazumi, and the pacing Carmen with her fiery mumbling.
Yep, I’d have been better off robbing a bank—my father’s bank. The prick—and getting thrown into Rikers. At least there I would have an actual bed, a toilet that’s not a replica of a medieval dungeon. A book or some screen time—anything, for God’s sake!
And worst of all, I can’t stop thinking about Dracoth. It’s driving me mad! Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome, or maybe I’m just losing it. The giant alien is a challenge, like trying to squeeze money from my tightfisted mother. One minute he’s all, “Yes. No. No talking. I’m a big scary bore.” Then next, he’s drooling over my boobs and ass like some horny frat boy who’s never seen a woman before. What’s his deal? Didn’t he abduct us for some pervy reason in the first place?
“You who have done nothing. Earned nothing!” More of Dracoth’s infuriating words replay in my mind, consuming my thoughts. What does he expect us to do? Rot away in this prison, while he comes to bore us to death occasionally? Throwing those horrible rubbery, inedible bricks at us like we’re clapping monkeys at a zoo?
The chill from the metal floor bites through the furs I’ve wrapped around myself. Maybe Carmen has the right idea, pacing like she’s training for an Olympic gold—if murderous scowls were a category.
I could scream. These are supposed to be the best years of my life, and here I am, locked in a dark prison cell. I should be living it up on a beautiful golden beach, sipping chocolate mochas, working on my tan. But instead, the yawning void within my heart threatens to pull me into its soothing despair. Familiar, comforting, and terrible, it beckons.
But I force it away, remembering my plan. The plan to seduce Dracoth. Though it looks as likely as earning my father’slove now.Why do they always hate me?My stomach sinks, I know Dracoth’s with Sandra—the blatant favoritism clenches my teeth. It’s like I’m back in boarding school again, being overlooked by the teachers because they had it in for me.
My mind races with what they possibly could be doing, each a pin in my fragile balloon of hope.Why did he take her? What are they doing? Does he like her? Are they screwing right now? Ahh! This is driving me crazy and there’s nothing I can do but sit here and wait.
I see the way Sandra looks at him—like some starstruck fangirl eyeing her favorite movie star. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Big Scary Red Alien Man. Let’s sneak off and screw in the corner.” Please. She plays the good-girl act well. I’ll give her that. But I see through it. She knows what I know: pleasing Dracoth is the best way to survive, maybe even thrive in this—whatever the hell this twisted situation is. Most would give up, but not me. Not Lexie Turner. I’m made of sterner stuff. After all, a lady like me must demonstrate superior qualities.
Kazumi interrupts my thoughts, creeping toward the cell bars like a shadow, quiet as a whisper. But there are no secrets here—not one. With our shared toilet and open cell—the concept of privacy has long gone.
The Japanese woman is an enigma. She says almost nothing, gives nothing away as she observes quietly. Maybe she’s the smart one, staying hidden, getting lost and forgotten. Or will she be viewed as useless and thrown away... or worse, sold to horrible aliens like the ones who attacked us.
She plays a risky game. Like us all.
Kazumi peers at the bent and contorted bars, running her hand along the metal. Dracoth’s doing when he went into a fury. It looked like he barely touched them, but the freak was actually crushing them. I frown, remembering his terrifying rage. The most words he’s ever spoken, I bet.
