Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Noelle stared down at herself in dismay.
What in the…? Madre de Dios!
She pulled up the nightgown for a closer look and saw more droplets forming on her tight points, the ache in her breasts intensifying with every passing moment. The liquid was a golden amber color that reminded her of honey.
Without thinking, she reached out to touch one nipple, desperate to see what was happening to her. A sharp shock crackled through her, making her yelp in pain. That really hurt!
Suddenly, it was all too much.
What am I doing here? I’m stuck here, a prisoner, leaking some weird golden syrup, and I can’t even touch myself to find out what’s wrong!
Tears welled up in her eyes—tears of frustration, fear, and helplessness. She turned away from the mirror, clutching her arms around herself, careful not to touch her own skin.
What am I going to do? What’s happening to me? Am I turning into some kind of alien… thing? Oh, Blessed Virgin, please help me. I just want to go home. I just want to be normal again. Why is this happening? Why now?
She crawled onto the enormous bed, trying to find some comfort in the softness of the mattress. But her body was still humming with discomfort, her mind spinning with fear and uncertainty.
Please, please, let this all be a nightmare. Let me wake up back on Earth, safe in my own bed. Just for one night, let me stop being afraid.
But the silence in the enormous room felt endless, and Noelle was left alone with her worries and her aching, leaking body, praying for morning—and for some kind of miracle as she sobbed all alone in the giant bed.
43
BURN
Burn stood under the spray of the oversized shower, letting the almost scalding water beat down on his shoulders and back. It was the one luxury he’d found since being dumped in this oversized fucking prison—the hot water seemed endless. The heavy jets pummeled his muscles until some of the tension and all of the grime from the Skow prison ship finally washed away.
He braced his big hands on the slick tile walls, letting the water pound over him until the mirror on the wall was completely fogged, steam curling in the massive bathroom like a sauna.
Gods, I needed this. Could almost forget, for a minute, that we’re prisoners in a fucking Trollox’s house.
After a while, he shut the water off, shaking droplets from his black hair, and dried himself with one of the Trollox’s monstrous towels. The thing was rough enough to exfoliate him raw, but it felt good and he scrubbed himself dry vigorously.
In the closet, he found a pair of dark blue sleep trousers. They were softer than the towel, even if the crotch looked like it would be a little too snug for comfort. Burn tugged them on and ran a hand over his beard, peering into the polished silver mirror hanging over the dresser.
Fuck, these pants are tight. Better than going around with my shaft swinging free, though.
Burn prowled around the vast room for a few minutes, feeling uneasy. He checked the single enormous window and found bars on it, which seemed ominous but not surprising.
He hated how exposed he felt here. There were no escape routes and no way out unless they found the shuttle key. Otherwise they were just waiting for the Trollox to get bored with them, like that fucking four-armed chef, Cookie, had warned.
But what happened to the last group? And why the fuck does the fucking Trollox keep calling us piggy-wigs? Is that supposed to be funny? If he says it again, I swear I’ll—
A sound cut through his thoughts, muffled, but unmistakable. It was the soft, broken sound of someone crying.
Burn froze—every instinct going on high alert. The noise was coming through the wall that adjoined his room to Noelle’s. Her sweet voice was raw and aching—full of pain.
Burn was instantly on the alert.
Fuck—what the hell is happening? Is someone in there with her? That bastard Trollox better not be trying anything!
He was out the door and into the hallway before he even registered moving. The plush carpet swallowed his footsteps, but he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye—Bright was there, too, coming from the opposite direction. They met in front of Noelle’s door, both looking grim.
“She’s crying,” Bright said, his face tight with worry.
“I know.” Burn’s voice came out low and harsh. He wanted nothing more than to bust down the door and check every inch of her room for threats.
If that three-headed freak is in there… I’ll rip him apart, pain collar or no pain collar.
But Bright was already knocking.
“My lady? Are you well?” he called.
Silence, except for a choked sob from within.
That was enough for Burn. He didn’t do gentle—not when someone he cared for was hurting. He banged his fist on the door, making it rattle in the frame.