warning: things intensify in this chapter
there is violence and description of sexual assault. I try not to be too graphic (while showing what's going on without being too vague).
Gold glittered on Jason's eyelashes. He tried to wipe it off, but his arm wouldn't move.
He tugged, but something was pressed around his wrist.
Panic shot through him.
He pulled harder, but something hard jabbed his flesh.
He opened his eyes.
Brilliant light shed down on him. He squinted, eyes aching. Then, gradually, his vision adjusted.
Gold. It tilted around him, making his stomach twist, as if he'd been dropped into a universe that didn't make sense. Beneath him something shifted, soft like sand.
Gold shavings sparkled all around him, nearly up to his collarbone. His back rested against something unyielding. Further away, the gold became smoother—some of it etched with figures that almost looked like they were moving, pirouetting as soon as you looked away. Dancing straight into the mirrors on the walls.
More items glimmered at the edge of his vision; to his left, wine bottles tilted in golden buckets. Gold filtered down from the ceiling, sparkling with subtle iridescence.
He tried to move his legs; they were bound as well. His heart thumped hard against his chest, making the glitter on it shiver. He was dismayed to realize that he was shirtless. But at least he could feel he still had pants on.
Who brought me here?
Is Elena back?
He yanked on the golden cuffs that bound him to the edge of the basin; they sliced into his skin. He yanked harder—a sharp edge jabbed into his wrist and blood leaked down to drip into the gold.
Calm down, he told himself. Panicking won't help.
But what exactly can I do?
It won't do you any good to get injured. See if you can exploit any weaknesses. See if there's anything you can use as a weapon.
He tried to think clearly, but his mind drifted to Kara and Karim, and he hoped that their enslavers were merciful enough not to hurt them severely.
Elena appeared, a dreamlike vision, wavering on the horizon of his mind like a mirage.
Glittering blue eyes snatched him, pinning him there. Admiring him as if he were only an object meant to satiate her.
He thrashed away from that abomination, and the gold shuffled beneath him.
He surveyed the room; now, he could make out some of the shapes on the wall.
Golden things, twisted instruments of torture. Hanging like pieces of art.
Maybe I can turn them against their owners…
He struggled because he could do nothing else. The ankle cuffs seemed to give a little…
The door opened.
A man walked in.
Zar.
He wore golden pants and a loose, shimmering, iridescent shirt. Tall black boots. With his wavy, elaborately styled blond hair, saturated with glittery hair gel, he looked like the fever dream of a nazi at a disco.
He swaggered over to the edge of the pool, gazing down at Jason, his face like a mask. The eyes malevolent crescent shadows.
Then in one swift motion, he swung down onto the edge of the pool, one foot braced on the floor, the other dangling, the sole of his boot barely brushing the gold shavings. He suddenly looked rather boyish and almost innocent, his head tilted, a whimsical swoop of hair gleaming over his forehead.
He swung his leg casually back and forth. "Hey, Jason," he said. His eyes glittered and the illusion of innocence vanished. "It sure is good to be back. I was wasting away at home. Dad had some entertainment sent in, but it was nothing compared to what we get here—"
He dove into the gold with an explosion of glitter.
Then he popped up and slogged over to Jason, the gold flakes shuffling dully like fallen leaves.
Jason struggled as Zar slid down beside him, shifting uncomfortably close.
He lifted his hand, carefully brushed some glitter off of Jason's hair. Jason pulled away, not caring about the pain in his wrists as long as he got as far as he could from this man.
"I wish Elena hadn't given me those limits," he grimaced. "But just to be near you—it's a dream come true!"
Jason glared at him, not bothering to disguise his disgust. He didn't have many weapons, but he would use all he had at his disposal and let this creep know he wasn't afraid of him.
Zar slid his hair away from his right ear to show the bandage still clinging to it. "What do you think?"
"You need a matching pair."
Zar's eyes blazed. Jason thought he might hit him, but then he said, "I like my hair longish anyway. And this—" He touched his broken nose gingerly. "Makes me look distinguished. That's what Dad wants, by the way. Wants me to be responsible and take over my share of the business." He sighed. "I suppose I have to—especially with my sister breathing down my neck. Thinks she's so much greater even though she's younger… Now I have to show her up. Show Dad he can count on me. But that doesn't mean I can't let off steam once in a while. Dad was getting a little too pushy—wanting me to get to work now that I'm healed. I have to have some fun first! My birthday got cut short. And I barely got to taste you."
He touched Jason's lower lip, gently rubbing it down with his thumb. Jason turned away, his cheeks burning.
Don't let this happen.
What can I do?
Tied here like an animal—
Zar hopped out of the basin and stepped over to the hexagonal tables, laden with tarts embedded with gold flakes. He picked up a couple and grabbed a bottle of wine. Then he jumped back in.
He picked up a tart, spinning it slowly, smacking his lips. Then he slid it into his mouth, closing his eyes. "Lovely," he said, remnants of pastry flakes on his lips. "Try one."
He lifted a tart toward Jason's mouth. Jason shook his head.
"Come on, you'll like it."
Jason opened his mouth and Zar stuffed the tart inside. Jason chewed; it tasted vaguely like strawberries, but he didn't care. As soon as he'd chewed sufficiently, Zar looking at him with a ridiculously expectant face, Jason spit it out at him.
Zar dove into the gold as if it could save him. When he emerged again, his hair disheveled, most of the tart remnants were gone. He wiped a piece off his cheek, then charged toward Jason. Billows of glitter clouded the air. Some of it falling in slow motion like dirty snow.
Zar ripped out his shockrod and jammed it under Jason's chin. "You try anything like that again and I'll shock you until you can't think straight." He holstered the shockrod. Drew out his knife, the gems on its handle glimmering. A blue sapphire glanced into Jason's eyes, blinding him for a moment. "Shocks are good for subduing a slave, but I prefer more…precise instruments." He lifted the knife, jewels mirrored in his eyes. Slowly, he lowered the knife to Jason's face and caressed him with the blade, the metal cool on Jason's skin. He turned away but the knife followed him insistently and nipped into his flesh
Terror raced through him.
Zar sat beside Jason again and lifted the bottle of wine. He wiped off some of the gold flakes and kissed it, an imprint of his lips on the remnants of the misty film. He popped the cap off then swigged a gulp of the rosy liquid.
"Ah," he said. "Want some?"
Jason shook his head.
"You don't know what you're missing." He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.
It was only now that Jason realized the ceiling had a mirror on it.
"Hotel California" echoed drearily in his mind… and he felt a reverberation of despair at being trapped, unable to leave this twisted funhouse.
You can check out any time you like… just—become numb…
Maybe I should have some of that wine…. They still have that spirit here at least…
Zar guzzled most of the bottle to his relief—and alarm. Being drunk might shed any of his inhibitions, if he had them…. He recalled how he'd been at the party….
In a way, Jason had never felt so helpless, even in the shed. There, the outdoors was just a breath away. Here, you were stifled, as if you were buried a thousand miles beneath the surface—
The crushing weight bore down on him and he couldn't breathe—
The sparkles dimmed, dancing like malevolent fireflies
A gentle slap shocked him back to consciousness, though his chest still felt unbearably tight.
"Stay with me," said Zar. "Zar Ambience 2."
The lights flickered, dimming. An iridescent glow suffused the room, colors whirling and blinking, each of the falling gold flakes sparkling a different hue. Soft music thrummed in the background, ringing in rhythm with the glow.
"Ah, that's better." Zar's eyes were shadowed, lit by gleams of yellow, blue, purple. His golden clothes shimmering and fading as if he were an apparition spontaneously produced by this room.
Stick to the mission. Find out something. Don't let him get too close. Never betray Connie by letting him go too far. Play the game— get the upper hand.
Zar jumped out and opened a cupboard set in the wall. He took out several jars, one sparkling gold, one shimmering iridescent. Then he plunged back into the pool and set the jars on its rim. After studying the jars for a moment, he then snatched the iridescent one. He dipped his fingers into it and slid a squiggle of it over Jason's forehead, then drew it deliberately down over his cheek. It was artificially cool, and tingled over his skin, prickling like being hit with stray sparks from a sparkler. Then it became numb and seemed to sink deeper.
"What is this?" Jason said.
"Don't worry. Just sit back and enjoy it."
Jason pulled away as he spread more of the liquid down over his mouth; he got some on his tongue and it seemed to numb it and then he remembered tasting some berries as a kid that did that—he remembered the thrill of doing something forbidden and perhaps dangerous, of tasting something that had a certain potency beyond anything he'd tried before.
But this was simply a dull thing, just another weapon in their toolbox. It might damage him, and he could do nothing about it.
Zar laughed as Jason struggled. "We can both make this work of art—beautifully abstract. A gorgeous dance between us—your resistance, my delight."
He spread more of the strange paint over him, down his neck and chest and stomach. Jason didn't stop struggling, even though it made the cuffs bite into him, even though pain stabbed his shoulder, even though it didn't seem to faze Zar.
It was the principle of the thing. He wasn't going to submit to any of this, and he was going to make it as hard as he could. It would probably annoy Zar eventually. That might bring punishment but that would be better than just letting him do whatever he wanted meekly.
If I start acting like it doesn't bother me, it means they've… broken me
They don't deserve to prevail in any way.
Even if I don't have any other kind of superiority, I have moral superiority. They don't deserve satisfaction in any way.
There was only so much he could do. Bound like this, sore and aching. The paint spreading the strange sensations over him, startling him with each application.
"These scars are such an interesting dimension… like puzzle pieces, like little mysteries. So many layers and textures…." Zar spread gold paint along the scar on his cheek.
Utter humiliation shook him and he didn't think he could take this anymore.
Flashes of the past rippled across his mind and he hated that Zar was dredging up the old wounds again
I do that enough without some spoiled rich kid thinking he can own me…
He thrashed against the chains; pain slashed down his shoulder but he didn't stop.
"Ah, I could just watch you all day. I'm so glad Elena relented. Although… there are a few too many restrictions for my taste…."
"What are the restrictions?" His mouth was still partially numb and the coolness mitigated the unpleasant thrills of heat racing up and down his skin.
"Well, she made me sign a contract. Even though I don't have to pay, I have to abide by the rules, because ultimately, you're hers. I suppose that's fair because she owns this place. And I'm grateful. But… it's so hard being in your presence but not allowed to do all I want." He tilted his head, eyes glinting with undisguised lust.
A shudder ran through Jason. He turned away, unable to stomach this. Pretend I'm not here… dissociate… if I can't get away otherwise… but that's a bit too passive… if only I could get one hand free I'd make him regret it!
It struck him. I could bite—like Serhii did—
But what then?
Zar laid his hand on Jason's chest. Without warning, he lunged forward and slammed his mouth onto Jason's, his body pressed close.
Jason struggled, then remembered his intentions. As soon as Zar's tongue snaked into his mouth he bit down
Zar screamed and jabbed the knife into Jason's shoulder. He fell back, clutching his mouth, blood pouring from it. "U dit nee!" he screamed almost incoherently. He crawled out of the pool, out of Jason's vision.
Then the pain struck.
From the knife embedded in Jason's shoulder.
Blood streamed down into the gold. He leaned back against the pool, gasping as his shoulder throbbed savagely.
He longed to yank the knife out but he was helpless.
Take stock of this. Don't let shock overtake you.
The knife wasn't as deep as he'd thought. It had felt like it had stabbed straight through his arm. But the blade was only partially hidden in his flesh. If he moved it might fall out. It would bleed more, but he couldn't stand the thought of it inside him.
Ignoring the pain, he wriggled his arm and the hilt shook, jiggling the knife further and further out until it dropped and disappeared.
Hopefully never to be found again.
It was then that he noticed something else.
There was something in his pocket. A flat, solid object.
My phone!
He'd completely forgotten about it. He had apparently fallen asleep in his clothes, and they hadn't taken off the pants he'd been wearing when they took him up here.
If I can just get one hand free—it doesn't look like these cuffs have a keyhole, I just need to unclip them—
And most of all, I can't let Zar find the phone.
Zar jumped back into the pool. His mouth bulged and a remnant of gauze hung out of it. He advanced toward Jason and to Jason's surprise, he bound the wound in his shoulder. But his eyes simmered with anger. He looked around and then dove beneath the gold, apparently looking for the knife.
Jason's heart thumped hard, hoping he wouldn't find it… hoping he'd get lost down there. That made him laugh and he exulted that he'd been able to injure Zar, even bound as he was. He felt a kinship with Serhii in this.
And then it flashed across his mind—Kara and Karim. His heart ached. He prayed that they would escape relatively unscathed at least.
If it were me or them…
I would take on that burden.
Zar emerged, looking pale and shaken, but holding the knife high like a prize. It glinted, flashing with pulsing lights. He flipped it over in his hand expertly and slogged over to Jason. He started to speak then seemed to realize something; he carefully pulled the gauze out of his mouth and let the bloody fabric float to the golden flakes. "You're lucky it was only superficial," he said, his words rather slurred. "Or I'd have to take it out of your flesh, restrictions or not." He spun the knife. "I took some painkiller so—I barely feel it now. I'll have to get patched up I suppose… but first I have to finish this. I'm not letting you slaves lord it over us." He caressed the blade, sluicing off remnants of Jason's blood. "I will have to punish you for your insolence. Good thing it goes with my overall plan." He grinned lopsidedly. "Don't you move or the blade will cut something vital." He tapped between Jason's legs.
He froze.
And was relieved when the knife slid upwards, and was even relieved when it cut into him, because it meant that he wouldn't be hurt in that way.
I'll do anything to avoid it. Provoke him. Hurt him in any way I can. Even… be accommodating if I have to. To an extent. So he doesn't go into a frenzy and forget Elena's rules….
What about the plan? he thought hazily as the knife sliced shallowly into his chest, carving down over one pectoral muscle. Blood leaked lazily from the wound, flowing in a broad swath downward, a curtain of liquid warmth. The cool tingles were just vague background noise now; pain was a familiar constant.
He adored this detachment, this distraction. But he couldn't keep avoiding the pain; it slammed into him with a vengeance, burning through his mind, razing all thought.
The knife wouldn't stop. Zar was literally slicing beneath the skin beneath his navel, then with a quick nick, flicked it off.
He gasped with the shock of it—not even pain at first.
Then a raging burn.
In the haze and hateful rotating lights, Zar stepped back, admiring his handiwork. His mouth curving upwards, a remnant of blood at the corner of his lips. Devilish, rabid vampire… that's what he is… the unbalanced thoughts crept through his mind like the slow slide of blood.
Zar sheathed the knife without wiping off the blood and withdrew the shockrod. He swung it, the strap wrapped around his wrist. Then he tapped Jason's chest. It thump-thumped over his heart.
"If you try anything, I will not hesitate to use this. I'd rather not, because I want you to feel it, and I want you to participate. But if I have to, I'll shock you unconscious then do what I want with you."
Before Jason realized what Zar was doing, Jason's arms were released and they fell limply to his sides. His hands were numb. He couldn't move his fingers. And his wrists burned with a deep, raging pain, a counterpoint to the bloody wounds on his chest that throbbed
"Come on," said Zar, beside his ear, and Jason realized he was above him now. He tapped his shoulder with the shockrod. "You can do it."
"What?" he said, although no sound emerged.
He tested his legs and realized Zar had unlocked them too.
Despair hit him. He hadn't been able to get free; Zar had freed him. He held his freedom and his imprisonment in the palm of his hand.
What use is moral superiority? When it cannot act. These people own the moral code here and it's a distorted thing. But we all have to be subordinate to it…
Jason grasped the side of the pool but his aching, half-numb arms could not move.
Zar laughed and jumped down beside him, then grasped his waistband and heaved him upwards. He was only barely aware of the shame; he was more worried that Zar would find the phone.
Now that I'm unbound… perhaps I can get it out
Although his arms and legs were impossibly stiff… his mind still in a haze of pain….
He lay there gasping on the edge like a sailor dredged from drowning.
His lungs felt so heavy he wouldn't have been surprised if there was water in them…
He coughed and a thin streak of saliva tinged with blood came out and he realized he'd bitten his tongue.
He crawled weakly across the golden floor, vaguely aware of the phone heavy in his pocket, but his mind was too scrambled to figure out how to do something.
Blood dripped off of his chest, dotting the shiny surface with dark spots.
Get up, get out, don't let him get you—
A golden pole appeared in front of him and he grasped it, grateful for its verticality. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet and clung to it. His knees threatened to unhinge and he pressed one of his legs to the post too.
"Wow," said Zar, sitting on a stool not far away. "I'm going to paint this scene when I'm back. Too bad I didn't bring my phone in… Oh well, memories are better."
Jason only barely registered his words; they annoyed him, but right now he had to just fight to stay standing because he didn't want to collapse.
His reflection was warped in the cylindrical gold surface. He realized there were no cuts on his face, and he thanked God he'd been spared that. His chest ached, worse than his arms. He didn't even want to look at the damage, although he could see hints of it, some of the blood reflecting in the gold.
Zar spun on the stool, blurring into a golden flurry. He tamped his foot down, stopping, and worked his jaw. Experimentally he moved his tongue and winced. He waved the knife and Jason couldn't help but flinch. He pursed his lips, tilted his head. "Perhaps you're sufficiently subdued now."
I've got to win this round… or at least not be left in such a vulnerable position….
Incapacitate him and get out.
If not… gather some info… Although he abhorred the idea of being in this twisted place with Zar for one more moment. He was worse than Elena. Not only creepy possessiveness, but hints of total brutality and lack of any sort of restraint… a decadent twisted mind…
And at least Elena may sell children, but she doesn't rape them.
Quite a low bar.
"Now it's your turn," said Zar. "I want you to spin for me. Around the pole."
"No, I'm not doing that." He was thankful his voice wasn't as spent as he'd expected, and stronger than he felt.
"I want you to participate! If you're too boring, I'll have to punish you. Now spin!"
His entire being protested against such a thing. And his body was incapable of moving very much.
"I can't."
Zar pouted, then a smile spread across his face. "I think there's something else we can do…." He rubbed his chin. "Let's role play what it'd be like if you were at home with me. Ah, just thinking about that is—you'd be my work of art, my personal manservant… catering to my every need… Of course I'd have Serhii too. You both need to be a bit more subdued, but I don't want you to lose that fire totally." He licked his lips. Spun on the stool, aiming with his knife. "Okay, just stand there then." He aimed his knife. "You can manage that, can't you?"
Jason nodded. Anything that gives me enough time to recover… drag my mind to some semblance of working order…
Attack him.
Take the opportune moment…
When I'm able to, when it's not too late—
Zar's face was the epitome of good humor. He had the air of someone with all the time in the world. "I want you to do as I tell you. If you don't, I will bind you again."
As long as I'm not bound… perhaps I can act.
Incapacitate Zar.
Get to the phone.
Get out somehow… perhaps use his thumbprint on the door.
Easier said than done.
Opportune moment opportune moment opportune moment, he chanted to himself, unable to arrange his thoughts in a more coherent manner without pain drowning them out.
Improvisation is one of my strengths… except PTSD has ripped it out—perhaps that's why I'm so sluggish….
"Now," said Zar, waving his shockrod, "I want you to arrange your body as I tell you. If not…" He tapped the shockrod against his palm. "Lift your left arm up and grasp the pole. Straight over your head, as far as it will go."
Jason lifted his arm reluctantly, pain stabbing his shoulder. He sought upwards and then grasped the pole, cold and alien against his palm.
"Good," said Zar. "Now slide your right arm behind your back."
Jason did as he was told. His heart squirmed with abhorrence. But at least he could catch his breath. This was nothing compared to what had been done to him already. He didn't want to think what else Zar had in mind. Just concentrate on the moment. Breathe. He doesn't matter… just vaguely pay attention to him, as far as it benefits you.
"Now, wind one leg backward around the pole."
Jason's arm was already trembling, rolling flashbacks of his dislocated shoulder bearing all his weight crashing through his mind.
I'm not getting out of this if I can't get ahold of myself…
He obeyed, giving himself more time to act, shaking with shame as he did so.
"I want you to just stand there, so I can admire you." He sauntered over to the random, hexagonal tables and snatched up a few snacks. Another bottle of wine. He sprinkled some glittering liquid into it and Jason realized it was zyx, the sickly sweet smell wafting over like a malaise.
Zar danced back over to the stool, twirled, some of the white wine sloshing out of the bottle. He glugged down a few gulps then clunked the bottle onto the floor and stuffed a hors d'oeuvres into his mouth.
Jason tuned him out.
His shoulder blade throbbed as if a knife was twisting inside it. He considered lowering his arm but wasn't sure what Zar would do.
I've got to rest…. Collect myself… can't take too long, though…
How will I incapacitate him? When he has the weapons?
Get his weapon…. Get the shockrod… we need weapons like that!
If there's anything I can do here that will increase our odds…
Learn something about this place… or a way out… Zar is blinded by obsession and dissolution… I could find out things without him realizing he's giving anything away….
"So," said Jason. "You mentioned you have a sister?"
Zar looked at him sharply, his mouth full of tart. He smiled, chewing, and nodded. "Normally I'd chastise you for speaking without permission, but I'll give you leeway this time. You don't know the rules. If you were at my house, you would have to maintain a single position for hours, without moving, displaying yourself wherever I told you. But this can be a practice session. Besides… I may never get to take you out…" He pouted. Ruffled his hair into a messy disarray.
Nothing else would probably be the fortress this is… and Zar is careless… maybe….
But the idea was so abhorrent he couldn't entertain it—it would mean being close to Zar for hours, days. Even if it's my only way out…
I just can't.
But perhaps he'll unwittingly give me some info if I speak of it….
"Do you always bring the same car?" Dance around the issue. Make him reveal it.
Zar shook his head, laughing. "I have twenty-seven cars! Switching them is good practice to avoid trails."
"You must have a favorite one."
"My little blue Katvesh. Better than the Ferrari. Ferr might be faster, but Kat is more maneuverable. You like cars?"
Jason nodded, unable to deny it.
"Ooh, that's another reason to take you out. I'd love to show you all of them. As it is—I can't share any of my life with you. I mean—this place is marvelous, but it isn't home. I want you home, but you're not even my gift. Ah, if only I could take you out—for just a day—"
"Maybe you can ask." He cringed at going that direction, but he doubted Elena would let the loose cannon take her prize so far.
"Maybe." He snapped his fingers. "That's a good idea. If I can somehow prove myself—do them a favor—or…" He furrowed his brow.
"Is there like some secret way you could smuggle me out? I mean, without them knowing?"
Zar's eyes sparked. "Maybe… That would be risky but— while Elena's not here…. Oh, that would be so forbidden and thrilling—maybe I could bring you and Serhii—I could take you to my room— and they'd never know, because I'd take you back after we had some fun."
"How far is it to your house?"
"About fifteen minutes."
"What town is it in?"
Zar waved a rather unsteady finger, and Jason realized his luck had run out. "I see what you're doing. I knew you couldn't be eager to be with me."
"Just making conversation."
"And I appreciate that. It's actually nice talking to you, you know? Normally I like my slaves silent, except for their screams, but now I'm reconsidering. Perhaps I'm growing up. This birthday really did change me… for instance, I'm more patient now. I can actually stand waiting, and I don't even mind limits! There is something delicious about waiting…." His eyes ran up and down Jason's body, and he turned away, wanting nothing more than to get out of here.
I might have to get closer to incapacitate him… I am definitely not at optimum, so I have to maximize my potential assets….
Zar took a swig of the almost empty wine and then stood, dropping the last half-eaten hors d'oeuvres. He swaggered over to Jason a little unsteadily.
Now that he's a bit drunk it's a more even playing field…. Just have to get these stiff limbs to move—
They were even more stiff after being held in such an awkward position. Some rest that was. Take what I can get, I guess.
Zar wandered around behind him. "Go ahead, you can let go."
Relief surged through him, but there was also that claustrophobic despair again—it was only at Zar's whim that he could move at all. All I've done so far is bite Zar's tongue and that was at considerable sacrifice.
Clink…clank….
Delicately, almost reverently, Zar swept his finger over each of the tools on the walls, their metal blinking in the swirl of lights.
Jason stepped away from the pole, glad he could move.
He wasn't going to let Zar do anything else to him. His soul rebelled against such humiliation and degradation.
As long as I can make myself act—not let him get a chance—
Close but not too close—
Zar selected a long, golden cord and looped it in his hand. Then he snatched up a couple smaller devices that looked like they had serrated edges.
A shudder ran through him, weakening him so badly he had to grasp the pole again.
Zar carefully selected one more item; it blurred in Jason's vision—he didn't want to know. Still, he saw Zar caress it as he carried it over, the other items bundled in one arm, the end of the cord dragging like a dead snake. He walked past the pole and motioned for Jason to follow him.
Shakily, he did so.
Soon. Before he has chance to use those tools.
Zar slid the devices onto the floor in front of twin poles about six feet apart. He smiled lopsidedly. "Now, grasp those poles."
"I…don't think I can."
"If you don't do it, I'll have to bind you to them." He lifted the cord.
Reluctantly, Jason trudged up to the poles and stood between them. His arms would not move. His left shoulder, where the stab wound was, was throbbing violently. And his left shoulder blade ached, protesting against any more punishment.
I have to pretend to be subdued. Catch him off guard.
Not hard to pretend…..
It didn't help that none of this felt real. It was too strange, too far out of normal experience.
He had to force his left arm out; he gasped when it stabbed him. Zar stared at him with casual curiosity.
"Spread your legs as well. As far as they will go."
Jason obeyed, detesting this order—detesting himself for complying… although the unreality of it dulled the humiliation a bit.
Zar lifted the golden cord and dragged it over to him.
"I thought you weren't going to tie me," said Jason, his voice trembling slightly. His whole body was trembling, unused to such a position.
"Just stand still." Zar wound the rope around Jason's neck; he flinched, but it didn't tighten, just swept back over his shoulders, underneath his arms, and around his stomach, where Zar tied it. The two ends dropped between his legs. Zar tilted his head, studying him, then nodded.
Next, he picked up one of the small devices with serrated edges. He regarded Jason for a moment then sauntered over to him, a dreamy look on his face. The round device sparkled blue. A vicious gemstone. Without warning, he slammed it down onto Jason's chest, twisting, needles puncturing his flesh.
He gasped, letting go of the poles; the knife shoved upwards, scoring a slice into his skin vertical to his navel. Jason froze.
This can't be happening…. I cannot endure more of this—
Another toothed jewel, slightly smaller. Zar punched the gem onto his stomach, just above the cut.
A look of fierce delight seized Zar as he gathered several more and twisted them onto his chest.
Waves of pain, shock and shame thrummed through his body. He couldn't recover enough to act…
Dear God. Please help me.
The sense of being in a dream fogged his mind, wound around his limbs, keeping him passive. Nothing can be done anyway…
Zar tightened the cord around his neck and he gasped but his mind was already fading…
Everything receded into a vague haze, the lights pulsing in time with the beat of his heart.
Then, he gradually became aware of the pinches on his skin, the pressure of fingernails, the subtle manipulations of his body… Zar tilted his head then pressed close, kissing it…. A light, quick kiss on his lips…
His soul recoiled.
Wake up!
Move!
Use this. Let him be lulled too.
As if in a trance, Zar continued, kissing down Jason's chest, removing one, then another of the twisted gems.
Now.
He grabbed Zar's neck and squeezed.
Zar's eyes bulged and Jason squeezed harder, thumbs pressing against his windpipe. He slammed him back against one of the poles; Zar's eyes rolled back and immense satisfaction rolled through Jason.
Zar gasped, wheezing, chest heaving—
Jason dropped him.
I'm not a murderer. Though he deserves it.
He felt little guilt as he rummaged through Zar's clothes; he grabbed the shockrod first, then the knife, though his skin crawled to touch it. With the cord, he bound Zar's wrists and ankles, abhorring the touch of his sweaty skin.
With disgust, Jason realized the last gem was still clinging to his stomach like a parasitic beetle, and he yanked it off, not minding the stream of blood he might not have had had he been more careful.
He grabbed Zar's arm and dragged him over to the door. Pressed his hand to the sleek pad on the edge.
It didn't move.
Jason tried again.
Finally he had to admit defeat.
Annoyed he had to rely on someone else, he lifted the phone from his pocket. Stumbled over to the puffy chair near the corner of the pool. Jason swiveled the chair to look into the pool, which was somehow distant … like a receding dream…
I'll be okay. This wasn't even so bad. A few cuts… the worst was the stab wound. And the bugs.
He shook his head, ridding it of resonations of pain, and dialed Ali's number.
It rang for a few moments. Then Ali said blearily, "Jason?"
"Um, could you help me out?"
"That's why I gave you the number. Where are you?"
"The Gold Room."
"Oh." His voice fell. A rustling, a creak, as if he were sitting up in bed. "Who took you?"
"Zar."
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. He's unconscious. But I can't get out. Could you help me?"
"I would… send a guard, but I don't trust them. It's just… you'll have to give me a moment, okay? You're sure Zar's incapacitated?"
Jason nodded. Then he remembered there was no visual. "Yeah."
"I'm a bit slow…. Bear with me. I do so hate being injured …." He mumbled, then gasped.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah—" Ali was breathless. "Got to get my pills—"
"I'll just wait here."
"You do that." Ali's voice hinted a wry smile.
Jason shuffled the chair closer to the edge of the pool. More glitter flickered, lilting down from the ceiling to join the rest.
Now that he'd done all he could, immense weariness dragged at him, and pain throbbed through his wounds. Now, he felt each cut, and his shoulder and shoulder blade screamed in harmony.
Dear God, thank you for helping me escape… thank you for letting me prevail…. Thank you for giving me an ally, he acknowledged grudgingly. Proof you can use anyone.
Maybe not someone like Zar—
A narrow flash of gold—
Something slammed tight around his neck and he was yanked through the air to slam onto his injured shoulder
He was flipped over, and a knee ground into his back and vicious words cut the back of his head as the cord cut off his air—
He gasped— pain clamping down on his throat—
a vicious twist and dark spots clung to his vision
Sharp shards cut his lungs—
The pressure released and air slid like glass knives down his throat
Slammed into his chest
He was only vaguely aware of his wrists being tied tightly then his ankles… the smooth floor gliding beneath him
Then his body was heaved upwards onto a smooth, cushioned surface….
He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, the golden flakes floating lazily down onto his face. Then he was twisted again and he was on his stomach, his cheek onto the pleathery surface
Perhaps I'm getting a massage, the disjointed thought floated through his mind. That wouldn't be so bad….
A tug at the back of his pants, a stabbing sound and a rip! The blade snicked his skin a few times, but Zar didn't even seem to notice. His fist was determined and firm.
The shreds of fabric were tugged away and the air hit him and let him know how vulnerable he was. He shivered, even though it wasn't cold
Just one more bit of fabric left… which, thankfully, Zar left intact.
He crept in front of Jason's vision and held up the phone. "What is this!"
"A…phone?"
"Where did you get it!"
Jason shook his head, which sent waves of unreality blazing through it.
"You're not supposed to have a phone! Who did you call!"
"No one."
"I'm going to take it out of your hide, you—beautiful creature—" He grasped Jason's chin. Rubbed it a little, leaning close, his eyes darkened with lust.
Then he veered away. "Got to teach you a lesson you'll never forget. Attacking your master."
"You're not my master." Ali—where are you?
Jason braced for a whip.
Instead—
White-hot pain, burning him, burrowing through him
lightning lancing through his mouth and letting a thousand suns through—
his throat closed and he thrashed and the light still clutched him—yanking his muscles apart—
tearing him apart from the inside
his cheek was drenched and he wasn't sure what bodily fluid it was. He watched it drain off the side into the gulf beyond
a golden sea
bright blue eyes appeared
too bright, they hurt his eyes
he turned away but a fist ripped out his hair and he screamed but his throat was still closed and he choked and the hand dragged him off the edge just in time
he coughed up some frothy liquid and he was laid back down again and he embraced the pleather
only his arms couldn't move
the hand yanked his head up again
and everything below his waist burned, a raging storm
"How do you like that?" said Zar. "Not even the highest level. You thought I was punishing you before? This isn't even scratching the surface."
"Please…" The pleading voice didn't sound like his.
"Please what?"
"Don't…. don't do it again…." He feared he might be damaged permanently. That he could never have children. He and Connie's only child gone—and the only potential children in Elena's possession…
"Tell me who you called."
Jason stayed silent
The shockrod tapped between his legs
"Ali," he said
And blood leaked onto the pleather
He must've bitten his tongue
Poetic justice…. Only… that's not quite right… unless I deserve this….
He was cloudy on whether he did deserve such pain… punishment was for a reason; it seemed he was always in pain…. Perhaps that meant something…
"Ali!" said Zar. "Why would he care?"
"He gave me the phone."
Jealousy bolted through Zar's eyes and he straightened.
He absently traced Jason's thigh with the shockrod. "Let's find out how much I can get away with…" His voice brightened. "I'll give you a reward for answering. Have you ever been with a man?"
He didn't dignify that with an answer.
"I want to see you beg, Jason."
A hand snaked up his thigh and rubbed it; he struggled, but the cord twisted viciously into his ankles.
A finger traced his calf, gliding down, then back up again
Lips joined it
He trembled, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes
Salt leaked into his mouth
burned the bite wound
He almost screamed
the fingers continued, exploring him, and he knew moving would do nothing
He was so tired…
Just let your mind drift… if you don't feel it, he can't claim you…
He could only drift to a certain extent and then it slammed back into him what was happening.
Something that should not be.
He struggled weakly but it made him feel sick and so he stopped, wrung out.
Zar said, "Isn't this nice?"
No, he replied in his mind
The hands lifted away and Jason was relieved the next touch was just a kiss on his back
A heavy body settled between his legs, and the hands became more insistent, and one twisted into his hair
And the voice laughed, echoing through the gold
Fingers caressed his sides, then crept lower, and there was a violent kiss at the back of his neck, and he hated that he couldn't see—it would be horrible to see their double in the mirror, but this—it was like not seeing your enemy, and he felt that much more helpless. If he could see him, perhaps he could do something—
Like what
I can't be this helpless.
why
"You're so beautiful," said the voice, breathless, and the hands became frenzied and he didn't know if it were lips or fingers
And the one last shield of fabric disappeared as if it had never been and he was exposed to the light
and somehow he was turned over and he turned from the broken being lying there
Pathetically sobbing.
The fingers danced lower, and the eyes raked him, and the smile was carved dark against the lights
Blood on his bare chest the golden boy laughing
Reverent murmurings
Dripping blood from smiling lips, eyes looking up at him with delight
Sickness folding into his soul
Draining from those soulless eyes
And slicing cuts, vital
Intimate
A maniacal laugh.
Cut off.
A scream.
Not his.
A hand cupping his face
He turned away
Sad brown eyes
Faded into darkness.