Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
I start to grin.
“You don’t understand, do you. That word doesn’t have any meaning to you. Pull over. Now.”
I pull over, not because he told me, but because I am interested to see what is going to happen when I do. I have a new and different feeling of something like guilt, but far more exciting.
We have been taking back roads, which means we pull over in a rest stop at the side of a country road. It’s the sort of place I’m used to seeing in crime scene images, but I don’t feel creeped out at all, which is rare for me. Ever since I got shot and disabled I have been very freaked out about places I don’t know and don’t feel safe in. But I do feel safe with Order.
“Come here,” he says, getting out of the car and beckoning me toward the trees.
“There is no way I am going into those bushes,” I say. “Anything you want to do to me, you can do to me here.”
“You might regret that statement soon enough, but very well. Step out of the vehicle.”
“I can’t leave Obigor in the car, and I’m not going to leave the doors open. So I can’t leave the car.”
He sighs and comes back. “Stand next to the car.”
That I can do. Obigor is asleep on my lap but doesn’t mind too much being settled on the warm seat I have recently vacated. I shut the door, and give my attention to Order, who is looming over me with a stern expression on his handsome face. He’s still wearing normal human clothing which keeps his extra limbs secret from the world, but he has pushed his sunglasses up so his lower two most human eyes are focused on me with bright blue intensity.
“You are my pet. I do not expect obedience yet, because naturally you imagine yourself to be an independent woman who need not answer to any mutant monster creature. But when you meet my family, you will be obedient. I will not have them thinking that I have been emotionally ensnared by a rebellious, disrespectful…”
“Are we talking about me?” I have to interrupt him.
“Yes, we are talking about you.”
“I’m not rebellious or disrespectful. I think you’re thinking of Sally. She’s very rebellious and disrespectful.”
There is a brief pause where he considers what I said.
“You might be right,” he says. “I have not been impressed by the people I have encountered thus far, Sally especially. But you, my dear sweet human pet, are not without your own misbehavior.”
“Are you sure?” I smile sweetly. “I feel as though I’ve done everything you’ve asked, in the way you’ve asked. Maybe you’re disappointed that I’m not more disobedient.”
“No, Tessie.”
I notice that he is working on something between his hands, something made of the web that springs from the tips of his fingers. I am curious, leaning back against the car door, wondering what his plan his. Then wondering what my plan is. I don’t have one, I suppose. I am being carried along by fate and the mystery, the sisterly need to find my partner, Sally, and my intense curiosity.
He is weaving his silk into something like a collar. It’s pale and white and not quite gothic but very beautiful because this is not mere plain silken material. His fingers dance and create patterns in the weft. I recognize them as my name. He has spelled T E S S I E out in the thicker strands.
“That is so pretty!”
“It is more than pretty,” he tells me. “It marks you as mine. It will show you who you belong to if you are ever tempted to forget. He approaches me with a masterful bearing. “Kneel for me.”
I look down at the ground. There’s cigarette ash and little shards of broken glass. I look back at him.
“Alright,” he says. “Don’t kneel. Just come here.”
He beckons me toward him. I feel a little pang of amusement and tenderness. He is trying so hard to claim me, and yet the circumstances just won’t allow it. The world keeps intruding on us with its mysteries and inconveniences.
I take three steps toward him and he places his freshly made collar around my neck. It clings firmly to my throat in what feels like a dominant grip on both the front and the back of my neck. I am being held by him and he’s not even touching me.
I did not expect this collar to have any real effect on me. I was merely humoring him when I let him put it on. But now it is on, I feel a surge of something very like submission, and even more like belonging. It feels warm, and safe, and right. It transforms this rest stop into a nearly enchanted place. The sunlight coming through the trees is beautiful, dappled light falling over us both.