Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
In the end, he crosses the distance between us and grabs me. Once again, I find myself tipped over his broad shoulder, feeling so incredibly small and so very much in trouble.
Azlan doesn’t say a word. He just carries me back into the ship, back to our chamber, and sits me down in front of a cooling bowl of soup.
“Eat,” he says.
“I don’t think I am hungry,” I say. “Your vibe right now is really killing my hunger. Plus, honestly, death doesn’t make me want to eat, and there has been a lot of death today.”
Azlan softens slightly.
“I know,” he says. “But you need your strength. Eat what you can, and then I will thrash you.”
I splutter into the spoon I had raised to my mouth.
“Don’t act surprised. You have to know you have earned my ire. The price of disobedience is pain.”
I suppose I can’t argue I didn’t know, because yeah, I knew. But my desire to make sure the cubs were okay overrode any desire to eat food or save my ass.
“I have to look after them, Azlan. You wanted me to be a mother, and I might not be their mother, but they need me. So you can do what you want to me, but I’m always going to do what they need first.”
“Very brave,” he says. “And very laudable. Finish your soup.”
He’s actually made quite a good broth. There’s a lot of soft potato chunks and a smooth pumpkin texture, along with carrots and good amount of my homemade vegetable stock. Once I start eating, I discover to my surprise that I was actually starving all along. Soup is good because it’s a solid and a liquid, so I get to drink as well as eat, and by the time I finish the bowl I am feeling much better in spite of the fact I wasn’t really registering that I felt bad.
Azlan has been sitting there the entire time, not staring me down, but certainly not making casual conversation. This doesn’t feel like a casual conversation kind of evening anyway.
When he sees I am done eating, he speaks.
“Go into the bedroom, take off your clothes and bend over the bed.”
“Azlan…”
I begin to try to ask him for clemency, but the expression on his face tells me I will not be receiving mercy today. I don’t care. I checked the babies because they needed to be checked, and if he wants to punish me for that, then he is the asshole.
“I need you to look after yourself,” he says. “In this great, wide universe, there is only one of you. You are my mate. We are bonded. If I lose you, I will not stand it. Strip. And bend over the bed. Now.”
Well now I feel like the asshole. Azlan is bad at showing emotions he believes are weak, emotions like fear for my safety and the possibility of my loss. I try to show that I am not fighting him by obeying him, stripping off my clothing and putting myself into position. It is absolutely humiliating to have to prepare myself this way.
I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder, as I start to apologize. I see Azlan with his belt raised, the entirety of his body, all his focus going into this singular moment of punishing me.
“I’m sorrrrree!”
My voice pitches up suddenly as his belt whips through the air, propelled by that impossibly strong arm, and catches my bare ass with a harsh slap. It is the first of many, each of them hotter and more painful than the last. Azlan’s punishment is determined. He takes no joy in it that I can tell. He is simply making sure I learn never to disobey him again, and in these heated, painful strokes, I think I begin to learn that lesson.
“Your disobedience is not merely disrespectful to me, potentially undermining my authority as alpha, it puts you in deep, true danger. This world is no empty asteroid. It is a world of many thousands of Leonids and endless consequences for every action. News of your existence has already spread beyond the boundaries of our pride. Messages have been sent, digital communications that move with the speed of light. You have already made a first impression on this world, and so far it is good, but it will not take much to smear it.”
All I can hear is the sound of the belt swishing through the air and making harsh, firm contact with my ass with loud snapping sounds. The lecturing is bad, not because of what he says, but because of his tone. He has the tone of a very tired creature who should be resting, not spanking me with his belt.
He throws it down finally, leaving my ass superheated and my mind in a soft puddle of sorriness. It could be the end of things. He could wrap me up in his arms and tell me I am forgiven, but that is not what happens.