Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
That was too easy. Way too easy. I…can’t believe I did it. Incredible.
I pace away a step, pressing a hand to my brow, and take what feels like the first breath in the last ten minutes. I’ve got him trapped. Now the real work can begin.
I look over at Aithar—my enemy. He eyes the thing attached to his finger and looks up at me. His gaze remains bright. Interested. “What are we doing?”
Moving forward, I lean over the chair, pressing against the hoof clamps that now hold his arms trapped. “You’re my captive now. You have to do what I say.”
“I would do what you said anyhow.” His eyes go wide. “Is this a sex game, Michaela? If so, I am excited to play.”
“No, it’s not a fucking sex game!” I recoil, horrified at the thought.
Aithar looks confused. He wiggles the finger with the udder milker on it. “But this is sucking on my finger.”
“It’s a nipple clamp…and it won’t come off until I hit the release. And I’m not hitting the release.”
His expression turns dubious. “…and this is not a sex game?”
“You’re lucky I didn’t use them on your dick,” I snarl at him.
Instead of looking appalled or frightened, he looks intrigued. Aithar wiggles his finger again. “You think they would suck?”
Why isn’t he afraid? It’s making me angry—and a little scared. I scan my kitchen and grab a knife. “You should take me seriously. I mean business.”
“Should I have a word? A safe word? I have heard such things are a good idea if the sex games are rougher than expected. I am, of course, open to anything—”
“It’s not a fucking sex game!” I practically scream the words out, marching over to him and placing the blade against his throat. “Tell me where Rafaela is!”
He stares up at me for a long moment, and now, I think, now he will give me answers.
Aithar’s lips part. “Who?”
I bite back frustration. Humans probably all look the same to him. “You were trafficking for your boss two years ago on Haal Ui station. You were buying him a slave. You grabbed my sister from one of the pens and when I held onto her, you kicked me in the stomach and broke two of my ribs. And you laughed at the sound it made. Said humans were too fragile.”
Aithar flinches.
Good. I press the tip of the knife against that thick throat. “But I’m the one that’s laughing now, alien, because I have you and I’m going to get answers for once and for all.”
The excitement in his expression has faded. He looks oddly disappointed. “My name is Aithar, Michaela. And I was nowhere near Haal Ui two years ago.”
“Liar—”
“It is not me.” He says the words gently, almost reluctantly. “I am Aithar.”
“I don’t care what name you’re calling yourself. Just tell me what you did with her!”
He sighs, deflated. “I was so hopeful this was a sex game.”
I shriek with anger, digging the knife into his throat so hard that surely, surely now he’ll be afraid. “Stop pretending! I remember your face! Tell me what you did with her or I’m going to torture you!”
“I regret I have nothing to tell. My apologies.” He sounds sad…for me. He tilts his throat back, as if welcoming my attack.
This fucking asshole. I grit my teeth and press the knife harder. A bead of deep red wells up against his crimson skin, dark and unpleasant. It rolls down his throat…and I can’t do it. Aren’t I keeping milking cows because I didn’t like the thought of sending my helpless cattle to slaughter? No matter how I was treated by aliens, I can’t inflict pain on another. I can’t torture this stranger no matter how badly I want Rafaela back.
I recoil, staggering backward, and run into the kitchen counter. I set the knife down and wipe his blood off my hands, pacing. I rub my hands on my face, miserable. What do I do now? I hadn’t thought ahead, hadn’t thought of more than getting answers about my sister.
I was so certain I could do whatever was necessary, harden my heart…
There’s a clink, and I look over and see Aithar has one wrist free from the cuff and just unlocked the other one. He lifts his finger, eyeing the milking clamp, and gives it a wiggle.
“What the fuck?” I blurt out. “You could have gotten free this entire time?”
He looks over at me, his grin sheepish. “A former slave always knows how to get rid of a basic cuff. Just a couple of twists of the wrists, a few bones flexed and…” He shrugs.
Former…slave?
He continues, expression thoughtful. “It’s not a stun cuff and it’s not a tracker, so it’s easy enough to get free. This one puzzled me for a moment, but I figure that was the plan, right?” He eyes the udder clamp on his finger and rips the cord free from where it’s wrapped around the chair.