Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Just when I think he’s done with me, his cock slides back inside me. He’s going to fuck me again, and this time he is going to do it hard and rough. He clamps his alien hands on my soft, generous hips, and pumps himself inside me.
I lose track of time in our mating. It is passionate and intense, it takes every bit of energy in my body and brain, and by the end of it I feel like there is nothing left in either place.
I have no idea what I was supposed to learn, but I am glad he tried to teach me it.
CHAPTER 5
Mara
“I am going to collar you,” he says in the morning, or what I guess will pass for morning because the day and night cycles on this vessel are fake. I’ve woken up, and I’ve been fed. The rations aren’t bad; they look kind of like eggs with bacon, though they’re probably not either of those things. I’ve known hunger and alien food long enough not to worry about it. All the years my father and I traveled the galaxy, he made sure I got to try practically every food that ever existed.
I look at Freak, who is holding a golden chain with a pretty pendant in the center of it. The chain is about a half inch thick with soft links that slide against one another immensely smoothly. The jewel in the center is soft pink and seems to glow with an ethereal hue. It’s beautiful.
“That’s for me?”
“Yes,” he says. “This is for you. It will mark you as mine. Keep it on, pet. It has a resonance chip in it that will enable me to find you, or worst-case scenario, if you are picked up, it will allow other aliens to locate your owner.”
I think about how low a regard humans are held in so many places.
“Or they’ll steal it and butcher me for meat,” I say cheerfully.
“With this mark? They would be beyond stupid. Psyons are feared in most civilized corners of the universe.”
“Then why are you at war?”
“Because there are always forces working in opposition to good. It’s how the universe was built. Now hold still, please, pet. I enjoy your cosmic questions, but I want this on you and the clasp can be a little tricky…”
He puts it on, and I feel the weight of it around my neck. It is a little snugger than I thought it would be, but it doesn’t feel too tight. It feels comfortable, like it belongs there.
I remember what he said to me yesterday when we were making whatever kind of love that was. He said we barely know each other, and he was right. But I feel as though I have known him a lot longer than a matter of days. I feel like somehow he’s always been a part of me even before I knew the concept of him even existed.
“Yes,” he says.
“Yes, what?”
He smiles indulgently. I know he finds it cute that I keep forgetting he can read my mind. It’s so hard to remember when someone else can do something I never could.
“Yes, pet. When two souls are truly made for each other, destined for one another, there is a kind of instant recognition that makes it seem as though they have known one another for lifetimes.
“There is also a very manipulative series of techniques that can produce a similar effect, but that’s not what’s happening here. You belong to me. You came to me right when I needed you most. And I found you in your hour of need as well. We are mutually reliant, pet.”
“You needed me?”
He runs the tip of his scaled finger along the tip of my nose, then taps it lightly.
“When I escaped the facility, I was borderline mad from confinement. I was considering doing things that would have rippled in all the wrong ways. Then I felt you and your need and I had a purpose again. Looking after you made my life have structure, instantly.”
I blush a little. It’s such a sweet thing of him to say, and I really like hearing it. There’s a warmth growing inside my chest and belly, a feeling of belonging that gives me a sense of security.
I put my fingers to the collar. I don’t know about being his pet. There is something inside me that rebels against being forever subordinate that way. But on this morning, two days after I was supposed to die, it feels like a gift I would be silly not to accept.
“Freak?”
“Hm?” He murmurs a response with his eyes closed.
“Do you think I could find my father?” I ask the question when we are both calm and normal again, for the most part.
Everything feels good, except that. The need to find my father makes being captive impossible to accept. I did not come all this way, risk so much, disappoint my entire civilization, not to find him.