Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“I am Avel,” he says. “And you will regard me as your master or suffer the consequences.”
I am not going to regard him as my master. That would be the end of me. It would be the end of my hopes for freedom. When I took over the Mare, became captain, and started making decisions that were finally in the best interests of the crew, I felt a surge of freedom that had long been missing. I finally had control over my own destiny. This alien seeks to snatch that from me. I will not allow it.
I am going to get back to my ship and get the hell off of this planet. I know the girls have it cloaked somewhere close. I know they’ll be monitoring my location. And probably Sullivan’s, as well. No matter how many times she almost gets us killed, they have a soft spot for her.
I swiftly consider my options under the alien’s glare. I could wait for them to come find me. If I was lost anywhere else, staying in one place would be the answer. But staying in the possession of a dominant alien with a punishment fetish is a practically intolerable proposition. Overbearing does not begin to describe Avel. I can already tell he is absolutely obsessed with dominance and control. I wonder if that is just how he is, or if this is the manifestation of similar frustrations to the ones I harbored before I removed Sullivan as captain. Does he also yearn to be in a position to make better decisions? Does it rankle him to have to serve an alpha? I can imagine it does.
“You will be in my sight at all times, as I cannot trust you out of it.”
Great. So he’s going to be moving me around. Well, that might present a few more opportunities for rescue, I suppose. I do trust the crew to make decent decisions in my absence. I have to. I have to put my faith in the women I have travelled the stars with for years now.
“Are you listening to me, human?”
I look him dead in the eye. “My name is Raine.”
I want him to know that I am not afraid of him. I want him to know that I am not afraid of anything. Not even death. Once an adversary knows what you are scared of, they have already won.
“Well, Raine,” he says. “From this moment onward, consider yourself my personal property. You will obey me in all things, and I will take care of…”
I’m not listening to any more of this shit. I’m not his goddamn personal property. I don’t care how big or bad he is. I don’t care how much the way his eyes flashing in that frighteningly handsome, scaled face makes me quiver. I belong to myself, and myself alone.
There’s one surefire way to prove that to him without words. He thinks I will be intimidated by him. He thinks I will fear captivity. I know how to show him otherwise. I run back to the ledge as fast as I can and leap off. I do this almost as quickly as I think of it, and the unexpectedness of it surprises him into a moment of inaction.
This is an act of sheer impulse and absolute rebellion. I let out a wild laugh as I start to fall. The feeling of gravity taking hold of me is beginning to become familiar the second time around. It is quite satisfying in a way, to be drawn down, inexorably down as all things are. In this rushing wind I could be myself. I could be a rock. I could be a feather. Everything falls. It’s the great equalizer.
Wind rushes past my face, fills my ears, makes me close my eyes. I am laughing all the way down, feeling some old wildness that I buried long ago coming to the fore in this moment of madness.
The feeling of massive arms wrapping around me and the sound of expansive wings being extended all at once herald yet another rescue — or is it capture? Regardless, I am caught in stern and displeased arms.
This time Avel does not say a word. This time he just growls, a sound that resonates with the very marrow in my bones. The shiver that runs through me is absolutely delicious. I discover that I enjoy his anger, directed in this protective and frustrated way. I know exactly how he feels, having run a crew of willful pirates for years. It is rare that I get the indulgence of being the problem in a situation. I might very well enjoy it.
The return to the perch is faster this time, and his grip on me even tighter. I could complain, but the wind would sweep my words away before I got a chance to form them, so I do not bother.