warning: some intensity in this chapter. Some physical descriptions while avoiding anything especially graphic- not as specific at certain points. What some might call "dubious consent" which is still sexual assault. Attempted rape.
The door shut behind him, the guards disappearing behind it.
Light streamed through the illusions of stained-glass windows; they were deep purple this time—irises offset by a blue background. The light landed on a gleaming gold and black figure lying on the divan beneath it. The tiger's tail twitched, and its head turned a little to look at them lazily, ears flicking back and forth.
The swirl of vines and leaves beckoned to him; somehow, it had expanded since last time, and there were more flowers, bright red and deep purple, and a small waterfall spilling out of it into a pond inlaid into the floor, glimmering with gold. Several birds trilled from the taller branches, out of reach for the moment from the tiger. The lyrebird, Rhapsody, sat at the very top, eyeing the tiger warily.
The room appeared empty otherwise. The stream trickled musically, the beauty of nature soothing his mind. He could breathe again.
Perhaps she's not here, he thought. Probably too good to be true….
Perhaps she was in her bedroom; the door was shut.
Cautious of the tiger, he crept closer to the swirl of vines and branches. A yellow bird streaked higher, fluttering around the room. The tiger stalked it and lazily leaped for it, then padded toward Jason, her ears pricked.
Jason stood his ground, not looking her in the eyes. As she got closer, her golden eyes fixed on him, he backed away.
"Don't worry," said a disembodied voice. "She won't hurt you."
Elena.
"Are you sure about that?"
"She's perfectly tame. I've got her slightly drugged for good measure—slows down her metabolism. Makes it a bit fairer for the birds." She laughed. "Please, join me. She won't bother us in here."
Jason crept to the opening, across from her bedroom door; it revealed Elena, surrounded by flowers, sitting on a loveseat. The flowy yellow dress cascaded over her, draped over her stomach and folded legs. On some small tables beside her sat little cakes and glasses of champagne and plates of sliced fruit.
She patted the back of the loveseat. "Come into my little paradise, Jason. Share in its wonders with me."
Reluctantly he entered the alcove, a vine slithering over his arm as he passed. Flowers were delicately arranged around the loveseat in planters that were almost concealed by the extravagant foliage.
"I ordered my perfect stress-free zone," she said. "As far as I can get it, anyway, at this stage." She patted her stomach.
The tiger appeared at the entrance, peering inside curiously. Then she padded away, flicking her ears, tail swaying slowly. "Enchantress is gorgeous," said Elena, "but no room for her in here." Her eyes took him in, traveling up and down his body, lingering where he didn't want her to.
Heat flashed down his face. He set his jaw, determined not to let her affect him.
She lifted a glass of champagne from the table beside her.
He stepped forward. "Elena—are you sure you should take that?"
She sipped from the glass then said, "It's non-alcoholic. I refuse to have all pleasures taken from me." She licked her lips, gazing unashamedly at his bare chest. "Why don't you take one?" She gestured to the champagne near the other side of the loveseat.
He took a glass and sipped from it.
The tang of alcohol soaked his tongue.
He set it back down. "This is actual champagne."
"Please, don't deny yourself for my sake."
Weary of this already, he sat down on the far end of the loveseat.
"At least try a cake. They're amazing."
"Maybe later."
She shrugged. "Oof, my shoulders are so sore… You wouldn't mind, would you, Jason?"
"What?"
She turned around, her back toward him. "Giving me a massage."
"Don't you have masseuses?"
"Please, Jason. Your presence soothes me like no other. You being here helps me relax… and if you could give me a massage, that would help take the edge off… I'm so tired. So tired of all of this. I wish I could just get it over with… but I have to keep going… all this tension isn't good for the baby. But I can't help it. I have so much to do… can't rest… it's always with me, what happened, what could happen, and I try to chase the stress away but I can't… and I'm afraid I might snap and take too much zyx…" She poured the rest of the champagne down her throat. "Or drink to drown the pain…" She set the empty glass back on the table and rubbed the back of her neck. The gown plunged low in back; this was probably another ploy to get him close to her.
And yet—he did need to get close to her…
And technically this wouldn't be her touching him, but him touching her…
Perhaps he could use this to get to her, compromise her without her knowing it, without compromising himself.
It was just a massage, nothing inherently sexual. But there was a thin line, he knew… He'd have to remain in control.
Even though she had the transponders and the guards, he felt he could be in control now, more than before… He would be the one acting. And she was pregnant and fragile…
"If not for me, then perhaps you could do it to help the baby? We both want what's best for him."
"The only thing we have in common." Fortifying himself for this new stage of struggle, he slid closer to her. Her back was pale, devoid of scars except a small one on the left side of her lower back. Her spine was curved over a little; he could almost feel the tension radiating from her.
Shut my mind off… help a fellow human being…. That's all this is.
And part of my mission.
He lifted his left hand to her shoulders; she took a sharp breath as his fingers touched her skin. Slowly, he massaged the tops of her shoulders, digging into the knotted muscles. Then he pressed into the base of her neck; she leaned into his touch, rolling her neck downward as he pressed his thumb up to the base of it.
"Ah, Jason, that's amazing… please, don't stop…."
He slid his hand down over her spine, rubbing across the vertebrae. He could tell how sore she was from little gasps she took. At a knot in her back, she hissed in pain. He drew his fingers away.
"No—Jason—please—keep going…"
"Are you sure?"
"I have so many knots I've lost count. Keep going until I say so. It's not hurting—it's helping."
He returned to her skin, digging deeply, guided by her reactions.
He was reminded of Connie—
No. In this context it's blasphemous to think of her…. Even though she distracts me from what's actually happening.
As he worked back up to her shoulders, she slipped the straps of her dress off them, sliding them perilously low. He ignored that and kept going. If she was going to seduce him, she'd have to do a better job. For one thing, just thinking of how she'd gotten pregnant sickened him. He wondered where Elliot was. How she'd been treating him since he'd seen him last.
What should I ask her? Without seeming suspicious?
"Tamara showed me around today," he said.
"Oh, yes, how was that?"
"The places were… interesting."
"We have a lot to offer."
"But there are limits."
"You get a taste… eventually you'll have access to everything. Within reason."
"I was wondering… Tamara said I couldn't have a phone. But I'm cut off down there. If I had a phone, I could call if someone was injured or..."
"People Beneath generally don't have phones…"
"Couldn't you make an exception?" He pressed hard into the knot at the point of her shoulder blade.
"I—suppose I could…" She twisted away from his touch.
He returned to her more gently.
"But maybe I should go one better…" she said. "Install a com."
"What is that?"
She tapped behind her ear. "Like monitors, but two-way…. Coms are generally for Admins. But you'll be the consort of an Admin. And I make the rules… so I can break them. Hmm... I'll have to think about it."
"Do coms have shocks?"
"No, but I'll make an exception with you. At first. I would really like to talk with you unimpeded… always with you…. Probably best to wait until after we're bonded."
"What about a phone until then?"
"You can have a pager. That'll connect you to your Liaison if you need help."
He massaged deep into the flesh around her shoulder blade, and she leaned her head back, her hair cascading down her back, her eyes closed in bliss. "Jason—your hands are magic. Or I should say, hand. How is your broken one?"
"It's—okay with the painkillers. I hardly notice it."
"Ah—it'll be nice when you can use it again… can't wait to feel the full force of your strength…"
"So are there other advantages to being a consort? Rules you can break for me?"
She twisted back a little to look at him, holding her dress up with one hand. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well… I wasn't able to order much from the vending machines."
"We have to keep you in shape."
"To train, I need regular meals—that are healthy." He picked up a cake with his right hand and set it back down, squishing it a little.
"I suppose so."
He pressed along her ribs; she gasped and leaned into his touch.
"You can have a few more credits… I certainly don't want you to waste away."
He headed to her left side. "Thank you. Would it be possible to… have a few more elevator privileges?"
"Not yet. You can only go up and down when I allow you to. You have a lot more than other people Beneath have."
"So… why am I even there?"
"You need to be taught a lesson."
"Isn't my punishment up by now?" He lifted his broken hand into her realm of vision.
"It's over when I say it is." Her back stiffened; she swept her hair back over her shoulder, striking his eyes with admonishment.
He withdrew his hand.
She turned toward him. "Why did you stop?"
"Don't you need a break?"
"My lower back is killing me. Please attend to it."
He hesitated, then pressed into her lower back, paying particular attention to her spine. If he could home in on the details, he wouldn't have to focus on the overall situation…
"There," she said, breathless. "Just what I need."
"You'd like me to stay up here with you, wouldn't you?"
"That will happen. All in good time."
He dug deep into her muscles; she gasped in pain but arched into his touch.
"Ooh, that feels so good. I need more."
"I could give you one every day if I were up here."
"I'm so tempted… I don't care about anything else right now but this…." Her breaths came quickly. He didn't want to go any further.
"What's this?" he said.
"What?"
"The scar."
"I forget about that. I was stabbed in the back once. You can see it was the only time I let it happen."
"You have a story."
She nodded and turned around to face him, holding up the front of her dress. "Thank you, Jason. I feel—so much better. My back is achy and tingly and—that was just what I needed. I want to just—exist in this moment." She closed her eyes and laid one hand on her stomach. Then she gasped sharply.
"What is it?" Concern gripped him for the baby.
"Just—he's being a little… cantankerous right now…"
"Do you need anything?"
She shook her head, blowing out measured breaths.
"He's not… on the way, is he?"
"Not yet. We're going to have a nice little surgery in a couple weeks… You can wait that long, can't you, Evan?"
"That's his name?"
"I told you I had a name for him. I figured it should also start with an E. Evan Earl. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Jason nodded, not sure if he liked it—he couldn't judge it accurately, since it was her name for him.
"I'll probably name our baby a J name. And his middle name will be something royalty… Royal maybe." She breathed rhythmically again, wincing.
"Maybe we should take you to Med—"
He reached for her hand. She yanked it away. "He's not doing that to me again. I don't want to cut our date short." She looked up at Jason, reaching for his face. "Distract me, Jason."
He slid away from her grasp.
She seized his right wrist and placed his hand on her stomach. "Just think! In about a year, maybe less, your baby will be here!"
"Shouldn't you heal for a while?"
"I'll heal fast. Good genes, good medicine. That's what we aim for here. What would you like to name your baby? Some good J names."
"That's not happening."
"I hope it's a girl. That's who I want, as firstborn heir."
"You're just recreating the same old system. Royalty, the rest of the people oppressed. We don't want to go back to that."
"No one has done it like this. All others were blinded by shortsighted ideologies. Our system sheds all meaningless trappings and gets to the core of what humankind needs! Just think! You'll be a part of that!"
"I'm not going along with it. No matter what you do to me."
"Oh, Jason." She slid the shoulder straps back up and lifted one hand to his face, lightly cupping his jaw. "In the end, you'll have no say in it."
"So – a consort is just a glorified slave."
"No 'just'. To just be with me is a privilege. No one else will have what you will. My presence, my ear… my pleasure."
"I won't have freedom."
"You will to some extent as my agent. But no one has true freedom. Freedom is overrated anyway. The only ones that deserve freedom are the ones who have the capacity to choose the right path… and they're always bound to their mission."
"This is the worst possible path."
"I'll love to see the understanding dawning in your eyes, gradually proven wrong against your will… becoming intricately woven with our great Future."
"I'm that important?"
"You'd have to be, to be this close to me. You'll be the foundation for our ruling class. You'll be a great agent, honed to perfection, bent to my will. And you'll be my partner and slave. Eventually serving me in every way… like you did just now."
"I'm not going to follow your every whim."
"And that'd be boring, so I'll give you a long chain. But there will be consequences if you disobey. There will also be rewards for… pleasing me." She picked up another little cake and popped it into her mouth, then lifted another one and held it out to him. "Are you sure you don't want one?"
He shook his head.
"Turn around," she said.
"What—"
"It's only fair I return the favor."
Dismay flashed through him. "You're… not in the best shape to—"
"Nonsense! He's stopped bothering me. I just have to… prop myself up a bit…" Fluffing a pillow under her arm, she knelt on the loveseat and motioned to him.
He'd determined not to let her touch him again. At the same time, he couldn't always be in resistance mode, or he'd never learn anything. There had to be a sort of give and take. It was abhorrent but… he had to compromise in some way to get anywhere. He couldn't resist overtly—he'd have to do it in a more underhanded manner. Get to her without letting her get to him.
Still—he had to set some limits. Touches were okay… at least if they were relatively innocent. But kisses—he wasn't going to stand for that. He'd get what he wanted without betraying Connie and everything he believed in.
Slowly, he turned around. He didn't want to face her either, but there was an inherent vulnerability in turning his back to his enemy.
Her hands were surprisingly strong. Her fingers dug deep into the muscles of his shoulders… and he had to admit, it felt good. Tension had been building inside him for a long time…
Thankfully, she avoided his scars, which wasn't easy to do. He sometimes forgot which scars were on his back since it was hard to see there. He vividly remembered the worst of them, though. Worse because he hadn't been able to see the blows coming—
She massaged the base of his neck… that hurt and felt amazing at the same time. Then she worked her way up his neck; he tensed, his body expecting her fingers to wrap around his throat and press hard…
But her fingertips worked lightly, expertly, and he began to relax again. At the base of his head, her thumbs pressed in, and he leaned into the pressure… it felt so good to be touched with care…. No hint of aggression….
Warning alarms vibrated in his mind, and he reminded himself not to get too comfortable. Perhaps he shouldn't be so quick to think she couldn't affect him…
She massaged back down to his shoulders, then her fingers brushed the bullet scar on his left shoulder. He flinched away.
"I've got a few of those myself," she said.
"You were shot?"
"I wasn't always at the pinnacle. I had to fight on the streets for my place. So I understand your pain."
"Were you tortured?"
"Not exactly. On the wrong end of some fights a few times… then I honed myself into a fighting machine. No one messed with me after that. That was the beginning."
"So then you started selling people?"
She laughed. "Not yet. At first it was weapons. Lots of underground arms sales after the Soviet Union fell. I formed a nice little cell… then I found out how lucrative drugs could be. I didn't handle them myself—I created a separate cell and it went from there."
"Did you have your vision then or was it just about surviving?"
"At first, I had to survive. Then… I remembered my father's dream. I realized it couldn't be mine—all I'd known was lost anyway. But that was a blessing in disguise. I could start with a clean slate. Build my empire. In the shadows, no one would know what I was building. Secrecy kept me insulated from the volatility around me. I stayed removed from the rest… only a trusted few close to me."
"Is that when Tamara joined you?"
"She's not exactly the criminal type, you may have noticed. She was in one of our legitimate satellite businesses and I noticed her superior way of administration. I needed someone like that, who could handle the day to day while I focused on the big picture. That was one of the best decisions I made. And I was able to leverage her obsession with me, suppress any conscience she had left."
"When did you build this place?"
She massaged down his back, rubbing over his vertebrae. "This was already here. Of course, I had to customize it a bit. It was a cave system augmented by tunnels."
"Who built it?"
"Someone who vanished a long time ago."
"So you didn't have to kill them to move in?"
"That would've been… inordinately messy."
"Your operations are messy."
"On the contrary, they're very clean. All of this is so efficient—you have no idea."
"Enlighten me, then."
She pressed along his ribs, getting at the intricate web of aches between them. "Gradually you'll find out more about us. But we're not exactly at that point yet." She brushed close to the bullet scar on his left side. "This was from Karl, wasn't it."
He nodded. At least the gunshot wounds weren't as deeply personal as most of the scars.
"He was an effective instrument," she said, "but… I'm sorry it came to that."
"You caused this pain." He touched near the scar on the front of his shoulder—the stab wound from Zar that was still healing, still ached, even though it had scabbed over externally.
"That was Zar."
"I can still feel the—hot poker jabbing into my wound—" His voice was hoarse with anger and remembrance of the sheer agony of it.
"Val did go a bit too far… I told him to stop."
"You also ordered it. How can you think I'd want you after what you've done?"
"I can fix it."
"You can't turn back the clock. Even if you could erase the scars, you can't take away the pain."
"Maybe I can, if you let me. It'll fade away…then you won't have to feel any pain ever again."
She kissed the scar on his shoulder blade
A bright flash of pain blazed through him
The knife, slicing into him—
Karl, leering above him, cutting into the scar—
The white-hot pain as he lay on the slab in the interrogation room, incomprehensible agony slashing his mind, screams wringing his throat—
Lips pressing against him, twisting his skin like the bright kiss of hot metal—
Somewhere in the inferno, part of his mind screamed—You swore you wouldn't let this happen!
Fight!
Hard to fight an enemy you can't see—
He gathered up shreds of strength then wrested them into his heart. Slowly the world came back into focus— white petals of flowers like gleaming teeth
Hands on his back, weaving a burning path across his flesh.
"There," she said, caressing his sides, "isn't that better?"
He slid away from her. Stood, and leaned against the arm of the loveseat. "I told you, I didn't want you to touch me."
She smirked. "You were quite eager a moment ago…."
"You did… owe me. But I don't want you to kiss me. You understand why."
"Because of her."
"Yes."
"You don't yet understand what I can give you. How I'll burn memories of her into oblivion. I saw you, you know."
"You said you were watching me in the cell." He stood to face her, crossing his arms. Anger smoldered in him—he had to hold onto that. Or else the horrible passivity might seize him again. He couldn't let his PTSD allow more trauma to happen to him. There were so many ways they could hurt him and he wouldn't be able to stop it; he had to take advantage of every way he could resist, not let the damaged pieces of him take control…
At least he'd gotten away this time and reacted more quickly than before. She'd caught him off-guard because she'd been behind him—and that was another dimension of trauma, he realized. He couldn't afford any hesitation. He had to be prepared for all possibilities. Be ready to fight, one way or another. He couldn't let his mind fade out—easier said than done when his mind wanted to 'protect' him by shutting down…
"She kissed your scars," said Elena, "but didn't erase the pain."
His heart flipped over. "How did you know that?"
"My dear." She scooted closer. "You didn't think the palace wasn't infested with cameras, did you? How else would we know every step before you took it?"
He felt like he was freefalling. He arrested his fall, with effort, but couldn't suppress the sick feeling settling inside him. He couldn't look at her. It was too horrible to accept. She shimmered at the edge of his vision, a white crescent gleaming in self-satisfaction.
"She's quite the amateur. So are you. Which is to be expected at your level. But such clumsy attempts to please you—it's a wonder you stay with her at all. I could do so much more—I could actually give you a live child—"
He lunged at her; before he knew it, he was squeezing, something fleshy beneath his thumbs
Harsh gasps, wheezing—
It struck him something was terribly wrong
He peeled his fingers away from the throat
The fragile figure clung to the cushions, choking, eyes struck with pain
Elena's hair flung over her bare shoulders, glimmering gold.
One arm wrapped protectively around her stomach.
Horror flashed through him, and he slid backwards then stepped behind the arm of the loveseat to protect her from him.
Maybe I'm not the hero either…
What kind of monster would try to hurt a pregnant woman, no matter what she's done…
What she's done is – grotesque. But. Nothing justifies this. And— all my actions should be done deliberately. She's seen she can get to me… She might've been trying to do that… Dear God, I suppose I can't totally control myself on my own…. I wasn't exactly trained for this… no one would expect such a situation… no excuse… Please, help me.
She slid back a few golden threads of hair from her face, her eyes accusing.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I thought you'd at least think of the baby."
"I—wasn't thinking."
"I must've struck a nerve."
"What do you think? No one wants their… intimate moments shown to everyone—"
"It was just me. Don't worry, Jason. I just wanted to study everything about you… get to know your likes and dislikes… I want to erase your pain. I think I could do that. I have so much to offer if you'd let me… but it looks like we have a long way to go."
"I won't do that again." He realized she could have shocked him with her transponder. The autoshock must also not be on a high setting.
"I wasn't expecting it, or I'd have had the distress triggers on a lower setting. I'll have to train you out of using any violence against me. Next time you can bet the distress triggers will be on low, and I won't hesitate to shock you if you show any sign of attacking me. I can defend myself better normally, but right now I'm not in any condition to fight—my balance is off and I'm out of shape… you took advantage of that."
"I didn't intend to—"
"But the effect was the same. You're going to have to learn some control—we'll work on that in your training." She rubbed her throat. "At least there's no permanent damage— it was just an outburst of anger, not intent to kill. I am in such a fragile state, however, that any sort of distress could trigger premature labor—be thankful you didn't, or there would be serious consequences for risking my baby's life."
Guilt gripped him. Even if Elena wasn't innocent, the baby was. "You probably don't want me to stay."
"On the contrary, you need to make up for what you did. The potential harm you could've done… it can't be taken lightly."
He deserved some kind of repercussions, but he dreaded the punishment she had in mind. He didn't want to just submit to it either… it wasn't as if she was a totally innocent party.
She patted the cushion next to her. "Come here."
"Tell me what you want first."
She tapped her palm with her ring finger and a warning zap buzzed at the back of his neck.
Reluctantly, he sat down. She smiled. "Now. All I want is for you to let me show you what I mean. How I can please you."
"Elena—"
"I know you think you love that girl, and you're loyal to her—and I admire that, even though she's not worth your loyalty. But you don't know what you're missing. Being so inexperienced, of course you don't. But you're settling for a basic model that barely functions when you have the possibility of the most advanced product on the market—with all possible updates, customization, and capability of responding to your exact needs. We were born to be together." She pressed her hand to his heart and closed her eyes. A gentle smile lifted the corners of her lips. Then she opened her eyes and slid one finger down to the gunshot scar. "This was a dangerous one, wasn't it."
"I almost didn't make it."
"You have a strong will to live. Good thing, or you wouldn't have made it to me." She bit her lip. Slid her finger lower, brushing the whip scar. "These look pretty vicious. Not from a normal whip."
"Gray embedded… pieces of glass and nails into it…."
Perhaps there was a silver lining… If he let her touch his scars, perhaps he'd get used to it and not get flashbacks… He steeled himself for more. Stay in control. I hope she doesn't want… too much… I'd have to resist and then—
"Gray was quite a ruthless enemy," she said. "Goes to show what trauma can do to a person. At least he seems to retain shards of his former personality. But it'll be a long road back to it."
"I hope… he resists."
"If he ends up being underwhelming, we'll throw him back to the wolves." She smiled, her canines glistening.
She slid her finger across to a more recent scar. He flinched; glitter swam across his vision, blurring the leaves into an indistinct mass. She rubbed the scar; it still felt like an open wound. Yet the skin was smoothed over and you could barely see it….
"What's this?" she said.
"Nothing."
"It looks like a bite mark. This is from Zar, isn't it?"
His throat tightened. To distract himself, he looked at the red flower on the table at the center of the alcove, its petals wine-colored streaks.
She kept rubbing it, then leaned in and kissed it.
Golden hair—blinding him—teeth peeling away his flesh—the shame of being used for violent pleasure—
This time he had enough presence of mind to grasp for any handhold in the whirlwind. The blur of red bleeding into the gold, softening it—gold is just a color, can't hurt—
it's just a kiss—
I told her not to do it.
He grasped her wrist gently.
Fire raced down his backbone and lightning smashed the light into a warped prism—
The rough fabric of the cream-colored cushion pressed into his back. He was lying awkwardly, looking up at the brown lyrebird at the top of the trees…
Elena caressed his chest. "Jason, I know you said you didn't want me to kiss you, but I think I deserve a reward for all the pain you caused me, don't you? Besides—you undid all the good from the massage, and now I need additional stress relief. This is also for your own benefit, even if you're still in denial of how good it feels."
She kissed his sternum. He tried to gather his strength, but there was only so much you could do when you were shocked by something embedded inside you… and he wasn't sure if she'd shock him again if he tried to move.
But to just lie there passively—
At least the shock kept him from feeling much. Still, it was more than he wanted… despite what she'd said, it was a punishment. Which was too messed up for him to deserve.
Think of Connie.
He let his mind drift to her and let the pain pierce his heart, the acute longing when he envisioned her face…
When Elena kissed the knife wound, it smashed him back into the present. Along with a generous dose of the past, although thankfully it wasn't as sharp, not since Gray had become less of a threat.
I said I didn't want this, was going to resist this—
Already too late—
It looks like determination and practice aren't going to be enough—I'm always going to have this challenge—fight all the scars the past gave me…
Elena kissed the burn scar along his side. Still paralyzing him.
Fight now— or I won't be able to break away— she'll claim too much of me—
He gathered all resistance, reached for Connie, pleaded for God to give him the ability to react—
Elena didn't deserve this much of a 'reward'.
Using all his strength and will he stood shakily. He put the arm of the loveseat between them and eyed the exit. Sleek striped red-gold rippled beyond the leaves.
"I deserve much more after what you did." Her eyes gleamed dangerously.
"That's not a fair exchange."
"It is, because if I feel relaxed, so does the baby. You owe me this."
"I can't let you touch me."
"You—can't let me?" She tapped her palm. "I can shock you so hard you won't be able to move for days."
"You don't want that."
A shock blinded him; somehow, he was able to stay standing.
He'd only been paralyzed that long because of the scars—she knew what got to him, what shocked him even without her device. You couldn't will yourself out of PTSD, he supposed, despite how much he longed for that…. He'd just have to keep fighting it in the moment. Hold onto what was at stake. Do anything possible to cut down its effects. Stay in control, at least as much as possible, so he could be alert enough to catch a clue, a secret… it would be hard enough even without his mind and body fighting him.
"You're not as amazing as you think you are. You couldn't erase the pain of the scars; there was nothing good about what you did."
She pouted. "I suppose the scar tissue is only sensitive in one way, and not another. Her kisses didn't do much for you either."
"There's nothing you could do that would be even a fraction of what she is."
"Why don't you let me test that theory. If I win, I get something I want. If you win, you get something you want."
"I'm not agreeing to that."
Her eyes narrowed. "What about this. If you don't sit down and let me prove my love, I take something from you." She tapped her chin. "Who do you care about most? Sahara? That little girl—what's her name—"
"No," he said, before he could stop himself.
She smiled. "I told you that if you gave me something a little better than a kiss, you could free her. Well, now's your chance."
An icestorm blazed through him.
Sasha. She could be free. It was her birthday—she could get everything she wanted.
And yet—how could he do this? Acquiesce to—whatever Elena wanted? It would be for a good cause, but still, he wouldn't be able to get back what she took from him. To allow the kisses was already borderline unforgivable. He should've been able to resist—had practiced and determined to—he should be able to overcome the shock enough to avoid letting evil do what it wanted. Perhaps, if he still was this helpless, he deserved this… and he should sacrifice what was left of him to save Sasha…
But how could he live with himself if he betrayed Connie that much? How could he keep going… it would sap some of the strength from him, because he'd have surrendered more than was acceptable… how much of his soul could he lose without the rest of it being worthless, only suited to be discarded…
Sasha. Her beautiful little face, her large brown eyes. Her earnestness, her joy in little things, dancing in the rain, her desire to be an agent just like him…
Maybe Elena wouldn't even ask much. Sasha was worth sacrificing part of himself. For her to be free instead of torn apart in unspeakable ways….
"How do I know you'd honor the deal?"
"My word is law here. I thought you knew that by now."
That didn't make him feel any better. But if he had even a chance to save her—how could he not take it? It might be the only thing he could accomplish here… by bargaining with the only tangible thing he possessed.
Reluctantly, he sat back down.
She caressed his cheek.
Shame radiated through his chest. To force himself to sit there and take it… Perhaps making himself stay still would be a remedy to keep him from freezing… He had to think of the silver lining…
Focus on the reward. At least one little girl will be free of this hellhole.
"Face me," she said, and slid her legs to fold beside her, her arm braced on the back of the couch.
His face burning, he twisted sideways, feet still rested on the floor in case he needed to run.
Block this out as much as possible. It's just skin touching skin…. means nothing… except as a trade to spare someone unspeakable agony.
He brought up the glade in his mind… Connie lying beside him in the sun… her beautiful form glistening beside him, her hair swept over her face, swirled among the moss… her green eyes brimming with love, making them even more stunning… He reached for her, but she disappeared in a violent burst of sparks.
Gold clouded his vision again.
Elena was kissing the burn scar on his side, and he had to fight the echoes of red-hot pain—Nothing else was like a burn; nothing could dull the memory of it. Her lips were like a brand, and he longed to fling her from him. She was like a parasite clinging to him and yet— he was paralyzed, trapped between shame and threat—
I'm sorry, Connie.
I understand, the image of her reassured him. Even though it was an illusion, he knew that's what she'd say, and it comforted him, and made him feel guilty because even though he couldn't fight this… he hated letting another, especially someone so evil, kiss him against his will.
Her next kiss shredded all thoughts apart—it was the stab wound from Zar
The knife twisted deep into his shoulder
Gold stabbing his eyes
Dull metal, boring into the half-healed flesh—
A supernova exploded in his shoulder—he screamed—
A hand on his knee.
"That's still a really raw wound, isn't it?" said Elena.
He didn't dignify that with a response. Exhausted, he wanted to retreat to the basement. Finish the rest of Sasha's birthday party. But her present still had to be paid for…
She pressed close to him, her stomach like a large yellow balloon against his side. She grasped his left shoulder; he couldn't help but flinch—it was the most wounded part of him. She kissed it lusciously; at least that part didn't have a scar. She kissed the top of his shoulder, then the base of his neck, smothering it… nibbling along it until a not-unpleasant twinge flicked through him—
She knows the things that affect me, he realized. What she saw on camera… The scars only Connie can help, but perhaps there are other places that are more… responsive…
Think of something else. Something that'll chase away any trace of… feeling.
The fact she's pregnant with Elliot's child. That should be a pretty cold shower.
He focused on the baby, even though it seemed wrong somehow, and he was able to block her out as she moved up his neck.
What he ended up thinking was how fragile the baby was… how he wasn't out of the woods yet. How Jason had nearly jeopardized him. It was Elliot's baby, after all, and he'd be out of here soon and take his child from Elena…
Elena's kisses became more frenzied, and she became harder to block out, especially when she was practically in his lap, kissing his chin. She grasped his head, tilting his neck, and kissed just at the corner of his jaw.
She leaned back a little, a smile flitting across her lips, her eyes alight. "You're having a good time, aren't you?"
He shook his head.
She laughed. "Still in denial, Beautiful." She rubbed his thigh. Laid her hand over his. "You can imagine it, can't you? Soon… we'll be one little family…."
He looked away in disgust. Perhaps this was a nightmare. It was too surreal to be reality…
She turned his head back to her. Kissed him on the mouth.
Her lips were quantum-entangled with Zar's… and Jason was drowning in gold— it was clogging his lungs and he couldn't breathe—
Shocks glittered through his body, and he was lying on a hard surface—he scrambled up, shaking, grasping a raft in the lightning storm, gold twining his limbs—
"Oh, my sweet dear." A hand lingered in his hair. "I didn't know he'd done such a number on you."
Shame heated his face. "You saw it."
"Trauma affects everyone differently… you perhaps are more susceptible to it. My finely tuned instrument—of course you feel things more acutely." She slid to the floor beside him. "I'll have to have some help getting up later… You'll help me, won't you?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Of course. But there are always consequences." She rubbed his right shoulder. "Limits can be… liberating, paradoxically. They force us to make do with what we have, which can force creativity…" She traced his cheekbone down to his jaw then back up again to caress his ear.
It made him feel sick.
Wearily he gathered another focus—the evil she was doing here.
I should probably be using this to get to her…
But all he could gather energy for was numbing himself to her touch.
Or trying to.
At least the scars had kept him from feeling anything but phantom pain. This… was almost worse.
Grasping his shoulder so tightly the stab wound ached, she kissed along his jaw again then reached his ear, kissing the scar from Karl's knife, flash-freezing him, then nibbling along its edge until she reached his earlobe, biting just hard enough there was a twinge of pain. But it wasn't the bad kind of pain. It reverberated into a softer yet more insistent feeling, twinges rippling down his neck— He gasped.
She smiled in triumph. Along with an indulgent look in her eyes as if he'd done something she'd been waiting for.
He turned away; she grasped his chin, fingernails digging into it. She rubbed his jaw, thumb gliding over the short stubble there. Her blue eyes searched his. "I know I said I wanted you cleanshaven… but as always, you're the exception. I love this. I want it at this level from now on." She kissed his lips.
He fought the urge to pull away. He had to stay here… let this happen… for Sasha's sake.
What if she asks for more… offers to set free more children… and takes me piece by piece…
It'd be worth it… right?
Yes!
But don't I have some value? Beyond what she wants from me? Or is my highest value just pieces to bargain with?
Her kiss deepened, her lips becoming more insistent. He knew what she wanted, yet didn't want to accept everything she desired…
She bit his lip a little, harder than before, and, afraid she'd draw blood, afraid to displease her in case she found an excuse to take back her part of the deal, he parted his lips a little and, smiling, she slid her tongue inside his mouth. She explored him while he passively let it happen. At least she wasn't demanding he kiss her back… at least it was just flesh against flesh, no feeling beyond that… He fled its unpleasantness, seeking something he could disappear into, but her tongue slid back out, caressing his lips, gliding delicately along them—something sparked inside him, dragging him to her. A soft, blank, pleasant warmth… he could immerse in this and just forget… her kiss intensified, and he found himself responding, his hand against the small of her back, the warm skin beneath his palm, her hands pulling him closer, her lips smashing his… lips dug deep into him again and a moan escaped him, a slash of longing vibrating through him—
Betrayal!
He gasped, pulled back, tears springing to his eyes.
Connie—I'm sorry. I didn't mean—
He didn't even seek her imaginary forgiveness, afraid of something he didn't deserve.
He withdrew his arms, but it was too late; Elena's teeth gleamed above him, her face gratified, possessive. She bit her lip, undisguised lust simmering in her eyes.
It was no longer just skin against skin; she'd taken part of his soul, part he could never get back.
So I should just let her take the rest?
No—I have to fight for every inch of it. I… didn't know this could happen; that was part of the problem. My guard was lowered. I didn't think I could betray her involuntarily….
It was just my body responding mindlessly.
But still.
He fought tears of anger and self-resentment; he didn't want to give her any more victories. Even if he didn't deserve to preserve the rest of himself, she definitely didn't deserve to win.
Connie deserved to retain every part of him he could keep.
So, even though it was incredibly painful, he kept her in his mind and heart as Elena continued, and it fortified him against her encroachments. It was just one-sided again.
Elena kissed down across his chest, trying to get another reaction, but now that he knew what could happen, he could avoid it. It was easy as long as he kept all of his weapons in his mind—Connie's love, Elena's utter evil, the fact the baby she was carrying was a child of rape… and this was something similar, he realized. Even if he'd responded… didn't mean he deserved it. She'd forced an impossible choice on him. She was the master of manipulation and twisted enough to enjoy taking her own pleasure without regard for someone else's will.
Anger surged through him.
Still, it couldn't quite burn out the shame of having not only felt something, but… leaned into her… On some level, it turned out, such things could be wrung from him… perhaps all men were like this…. A tragic fact he had never really pondered before.
He flinched as she inched across his stomach where it was more sensitive. Her hair tickled his abdomen. He shivered, wanting more than anything to wriggle out of this. Perhaps this was enough for her deal… how much of him did she want…
She had to slide downward to lie on her side in order to escape the inexorable obstacle she carried. Her kisses were deep and luscious, and it was harder to focus on his diversions.
Elena slid her hand down over his thigh and then tucked a finger beneath the waistband of his pants. He slid away and grasped her upper arm gently.
"Elena—please. Don't—"
She flipped onto her back, gazing up at him, golden hair flung across his lap. Her blue eyes sparkled in bliss. "Don't you want me to help you with the rest of the scars?"
"Your kisses didn't help me."
"Some did." She grinned, the brilliant crescent slicing his heart.
"Isn't this enough for you?"
She shook her head.
He stood. Backed away.
She slid up to sit against the base of the loveseat, eyeing him, fury smoldering behind the brilliant blue. "You want to forfeit your reward?"
"What else do you want?"
"Everything."
"That wasn't the deal."
"I didn't specify."
"You said 'a little better than a kiss'. Not everything. You'll be sorry later if you risk the baby. Besides, it risks your life as well."
She pouted. "I suppose…. Well, get back over here and help me up. I want you to take me somewhere more comfortable."
He reached down and grasped her hand. She laid her other hand on the cushion and pushed, but she still couldn't get up. She sank back down in frustration, arms cradling her stomach.
He was tempted to just leave her there. But there would be consequences…
He knelt and slid his arm around her back, supporting her. She wrapped her arm over his shoulders, and he lifted. Pain shot through his left shoulder as she pressed on it; she was surprisingly heavy. Halfway up, she gasped sharply, her hand leaping to her stomach.
"Are you okay?" He lifted her the rest of the way, although she was slightly hunched over, pain etched on her face.
She swept a tangle of hair back from her cheek, one hand still on his shoulder. "Take me to my room."
He supported her several steps away to her bedroom door, glimpsing the tiger on the divan, watching birds of light flicker across the walls.
Inside, he was surprised to see Elliot, lounging on a chair beside a bookshelf. He stood when they entered; his hair was slightly tousled and violent red scratches raked across his cheek. He wore a plum-colored shirt open at the collar, which showed several new bruises.
Elena tried to climb onto the bed, but Jason ended up having to lift her up and lay her down onto it.
"Ah, much better." She lay back onto the pillows and closed her eyes.
Jason exchanged glances with Elliot, who was still grasping his book. Slowly, Jason backed away from the bed, hoping Elena wouldn't notice.
"Wait!" she said. "One more thing, then I will release you. I need you to take the pain away."
"You should probably see a doctor."
"I'm tired of doctors! Get over here."
A look of empathy shot through Elliot's eyes, striking Jason's heart with the pain of knowing at least some of what Elliot had felt for a long time.
She patted the bed beside her.
He couldn't move. Couldn't bring himself to go nearer. He was so, so tired of all this. Didn't want to give Elena another chance to… get to him.
And yet… she probably couldn't do much more. Perhaps he could convince her to go to Med soon; a thread of fear wound through him for the baby.
Elliot strode toward the bed. "If something's wrong, you should go to Med. Do you want me to take you there?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "It's been much worse."
"We don't want it to get to that point."
"If you do as I say, it'll help me." She patted the bed on her left.
Horror raced through his eyes.
"What I really wanted was Jason. But your presence soothes me too."
Dread filling his features, Elliot walked around the bed and slid up beside her.
"Now lie down. And don't move." She tapped the palm of her left hand. Apparently she had a transponder for Elliot too.
Elliot lay back against the pillows and, his jaw taut, looked away, eyes anguished.
Elena hefted herself onto her knees then gently parted the shirt at Elliot's throat. Then she slid her fingers downward gently and unbuttoned the shirt.
"Don't," said Jason. "It's me you want."
"You'll get your turn." She slid her palm downward and the rest of the buttons opened. Gently, she slid the shirt off his shoulders and kissed down the center of his chest.
Elliot flinched. Wrapped his arms around himself protectively.
"I have more weapons than shocks, you know."
"Don't hurt him," said Jason. "You've already done—too much."
"I'm not hurting him. As long as he cooperates." She grabbed Elliot's arm and he let her place it at his side, then the other one. He shivered under the glimmering lights.
"Why don't you just leave him alone? Leave him out of this."
"It's fun to mix flavors." She smiled against Elliot's skin as she kissed him, lusciously dragging her tongue down his chest.
Revulsion prickled through him. Memories of what she'd done to him flickered over his skin. He hated watching it done to Elliot—he should be free of this by now. It wasn't fair she had dragged him back here after all she'd done to him. Even when she had a supposed 'substitute'.
He sat there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Elena, despite her vulnerability, had all the means of control. He could only hope she would stop soon.
Or—if he drew her attention away—
She did want… participation…
Slowly he crept over to her and kissed her shoulder blade.
She didn't respond.
Shoving down his revulsion, dreading more guilt, he kissed along her shoulder, putting more simulated passion into it, trying to keep detached enough he wouldn't become too entangled…
He swept her hair aside gently and kissed the vertebrae at the base of her neck. He felt a shiver race through her. Upward to the sensitive skin beneath her hairline… he kissed just where her hair began and breathed softly into it.
She gasped and leaned back a little. Stopped kissing Elliot.
He grasped her wrist gently and turned her toward him, his hand on her other shoulder to guide her. Her eyes shone with wonder, her lips parted slightly.
Smothering his conscience and every other misgiving, he kissed her, gliding his left hand down to the small of her back. He closed his eyes, leaned into the kiss as she pressed her lips to his.
She pressed as close to him as possible, wrapping her arms around him, her palms pressed to his back.
He caught Elliot's eyes; there was deep pain in them, along with a semblance of relief. It was an extremely awkward situation, but it was better than watching her rip into Elliot, and besides—perhaps this would satiate her enough to buy Sasha her freedom.
He gathered all his acting ability while he kept her at arm's length in his mind. With Elliot there, it was easier to do. Still… he had to stay vigilant because there was something about skin pressing against skin… Beyond all his other desires—to be free, to rescue the others—there was an insidious longing to forget…. To drown himself in something supremely distracting… to feel something that wasn't pain or fear…. Something intense enough to crush anything else. In that way, he empathized with Elena. And that was as dangerously close to her as anything.
Her kiss was soft at first; it became more frenzied, hunger burning in her eyes, quivering in every movement. Her hands moved up and down his back passionately. Her lips twisted against his; her nails raked his ribs and he gasped with pain. But that didn't stop her in the least; instead, it seemed to drive her wilder. She thrust his jaw upwards and kissed along it, then bit his chin. Another quick burning kiss down along his neck, over his collarbone—
She kissed down his chest and didn't seem to realize he'd stopped participating.
He shivered, wishing there was some way he could stop this and be sure of the deal.
Perhaps he should ask…
Without warning, she hit his chest, and he fell back against the pillows. Then she straddled his waist, pressing her hand to his chest, leaning all her weight against it—
He felt trapped— couldn't breathe—
A flash of Gloria over him, pressuring him—
Then it was Zar—glitter piercing Jason's eyes—
Something white-hot blazed beneath his waist and he screamed—
The pressure released.
The pain just echoes after all.
A glint of gold at his left.
Elena was embracing Elliot, her hand buried in his dark hair—
He pulled away from her, the regret in his eyes blazing a path through the passion and glimmer of love.
Elena, breathless, clung to him. "Please." She nuzzled his neck. "Let's go back to the way things were. Like you promised."
"I don't really want this… I never did."
"I just really need you." She kissed his neck, his cheekbone.
He wrapped his arms around her then pushed her away. "I'm not risking— our baby."
"That's so considerate of you… but I think he'll understand. It's been so long…"
Disgust flashed through Elliot's eyes.
She slid her hand up his chest, then down again, hooking her fingers over his waistband. He grasped her wrist and wrenched it away.
"Sorry," he said. "But we should really take you to Med."
"Just this one more thing."
"No, Elena."
"I could shock you… but that doesn't give me what I want." She caressed his ear, sliding his hair back. Then her eyes sparked. "You know what I was saying about Alelu? She's safe— she'll always be safe. Tamara will protect her. Unless…. I take back my assent…"
"Please—don't."
"Lie back. It won't hurt the baby; I can tell these things."
"You don't know him—you're not part of him."
"On the contrary… I feel him every second. And so will you when you're fused with me." She pressed him back against the bed.
Jason was in shock in more ways than one, but he couldn't just let this happen.
"Elena—stop this," said Jason.
"I'll get to you later." She waved a hand.
Since she went over to Elliot, I must've fulfilled my end of the deal. I hope.
He was about to drag Elena away when her hand leaped to her stomach and she fell back, gasping. Huddled over on the bed, she clutched her stomach, moaning in pain, her golden hair flung about her shoulders.
He rushed over to her, slid his arm around her back. "Elena—are you okay?"
"It's starting." Her eyes were wide.
"You're going into labor?"
She nodded, fear chasing away the lust without a trace. "I think something's wrong."
"Something's been wrong for a long time."
"It's supposed to be a C-section…"
"Then let's get you to the hospital!"
With Elliot's help, he lifted her off the bed. Elliot's face was deathly pale, and he looked deeply shaken, but he insisted on helping carry her to the door. Groaning, she pressed her hand to it.
Then they stepped out into the hallway and half-walked, half-carried her to Med.