The fic is done mostly, its just polish and edits. For that reason, I might start boosting up to a biweekly posting schedule: Monday and Wednesday or Thursday. Chapter 4 will be posted soon. After that, we will see what happens.
Chapter 3
She fell asleep again, somehow. Perhaps she just passed out. She was so tired. The pain was agonizing and constant. Biting her. Taunting her. Everything hurt. When she breathed, it felt like glass in her belly. When she looked around it felt like her eyes were being sucked out of her head. Her flowing blood seemed to make her veins ache. But somehow she fell asleep, into a sweet bliss of unconsciousness. She slept deeply without dreams or other thoughts. She could have been dead.
So deep was her sleep she didn't feel her warm, furry blanket underneath her start to stir. Lazarus woke, and felt the nearly weightless body on top of him. He took a moment, taking in the scent he associated with his son's vengeance, just to remind him why she wasn't in his belly.
He held her like a rag doll, her head bobbing loosely on her shoulder as he canted his head to the side, taking careful note of her. She was so badly bruised, her skin was such a deep purple, and her size, one could mistake her as an Unggoy. For the first time, he did notice the caked and dried blood on her scalp, arms, and bare chest.
He brought her up to his mouth and flicked his tongue out between his lips, and dragged the thick appendage from her chest to her scalp. Pulling back, he noticed that now at least most of the caked on blood was gone, but she was covered in drool. He licked her again, and again, enjoying the taste of human. He grabbed her in both hands and started licking her chest and arms clean of blood, then the resulting saliva.
Nicole started to laugh in her sleep at the feel of the bumpy warmth sliding over her bare and sensitive skin, particularly her breasts, but her stomach and her face as well. It was a little sensitive tickling that seemed to soothe her pain. She woke with a frightened yelp like a wounded mutt, and fought and kicked until Lazarus grabbed her, growling. "What are, what are you doing?" she said, still beating at the hand that held her.
"Cleaning you," he said nonchalantly. He pulled her back, pressing her face to his lips before flicking out the tongue and drenching her, savoring the taste. He heard whimpers and muffled screams. Nicole started to cry. "What?" he said. He pulled her back and held her up, snorting heavily out open nostrils.
"You-you're going to eat me," Nicole said. Her eyes were closed tightly, tears running down her cheeks and mixing with the saliva. She was held loose and weak in his hand.
"If I was going to eat you, wouldn't I have done it by now instead of having those disgusting rations?" he growled. He shifted his grip, thumb and forefinger under her arms. He started at her thighs and went up to her nose, taking most of the drool. Nicole still cried. "What?" he growled, holding her close to his eyes.
"You're tasting me," she sobbed. "Then you're going to eat me. You're saving me for later."
Lazarus lowered her down to his belly and wiped her on his fur. "There, happy now?"
Her tiny chest heaved in his hand, filling with air then blowing out, ruffling the fur on his pectoral muscles. "You fucking licked me!" she screamed. Now she was fighting even worse. Punching and kicking at him, screaming lunatic. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking try to eat me!"
Lazarus lowered her, so her lower half was between his legs, and buried her nose in his stomach. She continued screaming, giving a sort of odd vibration on the skin, and he put a hand on the back of her head, keeping her pinned. At least now her screams were muffled a bit. He waited patiently, until she mostly stopped screaming, and realized he might be smothering her, so he eased her head back. She was crying again. Sobbing uncontrollably. Lazarus sat her down in his lap. "Are you better now."
"You're a monster," she said. She was so weak that she just lay her head down, eyes half lidded and starting to lose their color.
Lazarus growled, putting a hand at her rump and pushing her higher, letting her settle just under his chin. She seemed to calm down a bit after a while, though he could still feel her shake.
"You've lost weight," she said, her little hands pitter pattering over his chest.
"They don't feed me as much as they should. Same reason they took your clothing. They want us weak."
She sniffled a bit. "What am I going to do? What if I never get out? What if I'm locked up here, forever? Oh god, what's going to happen to me?"
"You murdered one of their brothers," he said lowly. "Despite its reason, you murdered their brother. If not for Orff, they would have executed you on the spot."
"Orff," she spat, burying her head and sobbing lowly. "Fucking snake. He fucking stabbed me in the back."
"He saved your life," he said, suddenly forceful.
Nicole pushed off him, struggling against the weight of his hand that simply rested on her back. She stared up at him, fire in her eyes. "He lied to me. He tricked me and now I'm here sharing a cell with a goddamn fur coat."
Lazarus grabbed her and shook her. Simply shook her, and it felt like she was going to die. Like her insides were mush and her head was going to break off. "Think for a minute, you stupid bitch. What could he have done? Warned you, told you to run? You would have been hunted down in a night. He can talk to his council, perhaps show you leniency. You needed to be captured for your safety."
Nicole tried to punch him, and technically she did, but her hand nearly broke on his snout. "I'll be dead soon enough," she said, holding herself. "I'm broken. I won't last."
She was hungry. How many days had passed? She looked over to the fourth wall, the single ration can that was meant for her. Swallowing her pain and gorge, she pushed against Lazarus and started stumbling and clawing towards it. Holding her chest, it was a struggle to breathe at all. The skin burned on her bare feet. The air burned her bare skin. She reached the ration, and nearly feel over when she tried to squat to pick it up. There was something else though, something she hadn't noticed at first, pressed flat against the ground. The darkness of Sangheili ships didn't help matters any. A blanket. Orff must have smuggled it in when she was unconscious.
The blanket did help with the coldness, if she kept it tight, but shivers still wore down on her skin. The air she breathed was icy and chilled her core, and no matter how tight she wrapped the blanket, cold air seemed to find a way between the fabric and her skin. She shivered. She looked around for something else that Orff may have brought in, but there was only Lazarus, lying on a mattress on the far wall, trying to sleep. Orff's hearts were in the right place, but he just didn't understand what was really wrong with her. How could he? He was a walking tank. She doubted he had even had a bone broken or a concussion. A splint and wrapping tape would have been better than the blanket. So she used what she had.
She tried ripping the blanket, with her hands, but it was made of a very strong material, or maybe she was just weak. Her teeth proved more effective. Chewing on the center, she managed to make a tear, that very slowly she could work a bit wider, until finally it ripped into two pieces. Tying the cloth around her chest, she managed a bandage. The other piece she used to keep her left arm close to her chest. Her arm was just throbbing. Of course, now she didn't have the warmth of the blanket.
"Lazarus?" she asked, struggling towards him and standing beside his bed.
He rumbled out a snore.
She dropped to her knees and did her best to shake him awake. She was sure he was awake, just mocking her, so she slapped him. He opened his eyes, growling at her.
"Move over," she said, trying to sound firm. That made him laugh. "Lazarus, please, I'm going to die otherwise. It's too cold."
He didn't open his arms or move over on the rather large mattress. She finally threw the blanket away and squeezed between his arms, pressing close to his large chest. She crawled into a fetal position, knees pulled close to protect her chest from the anything. She felt Lazarus stretch an arm over her, and pulled her closely to his chest. His warm fluffy chest. She settled closer, breathing heavy. He pulled his knees up, his thighs at the soles of her feet, which felt quite good after how painful the floor was to walk on. His chin down and her nose buried in the center of his neck. But it was hard to breath with the thickness of fur, so she turned her head up. She heard his pulse throbbing, pushed apparently to the Jiralhanae equivalent of a jugular vein.
"You seem to be enjoying this," she mocked.
"You remind me of a pet I had when I was younger." She didn't hear his voice. She felt it quake through her whole body.
"You do too. My old dog, when I was younger. Nothing but a big, breathing, heated cushion. All you are." She yawned.
That was a lie. Just a lie to save face. Her positions, a teddy bear to the bigger party. She liked the feeling of helplessness. The release from responsibility. She liked the warmth. And that feeling of safeness. Because truth be told, she did feel safe. He could crush her, but he had restrained himself mostly, something Sangheili and even her fellow human didn't even always do. Somewhere, somehow, deep down, she remembered Timothy.
"Lazarus," she said weakly, but said nothing after that.
