With the remainder of humanity in chains, Shasta keeps her head down and tries to weather the storm. Servicing the filthy needs of a superior alien race, each day passes in a blur, the struggle to survive outweighing everything else.
After ten years...
"I will be leaving for several cycles. There is a threat on the outer edge of our territory. I will destroy it before it has a chance to creep in closer. Do not leave this room. Someone will come to bring you sustenance." He holds my chin painfully tight in his hand.
"I won't leave the room," I promise. I learned that lesson the hard way.
He looks at me sternly, studying me for a moment before turning to leave.
"Wait!" I grab his arm, my mouth speaking before my brain can catch up. "Um, not that you need it or anything but be careful." I feel my cheeks heat up as I stare at the ground.
He doesn't say anything but I can feel his eyes on mine. I think this is another thing he doesn't understand. We seem to have a lot of those between us. I didn't mean to say it, it just came out.
"Careful?" His voice is low. He sounds insulted.
"Yeah," my throat feels dry. "Don't get hurt."
"Don't get hurt." He repeats the words slowly, like he's trying to understand their meaning. "Don't get hurt?"
Why did I say anything?
"I do not get hurt. Any injury I sustain in the line of duty is an honor. I will burn our enemies to the ground, I will send their ashes into the wind. There will be nothing left. I have given every moment of my life for this." His head is tilted to one side, deep lines of confusion etched into his features.
"I'm not doubting your abilities." I sigh. The meaning of my concern is obviously lost in translation. "I just don't want you to have injuries."
"Warriors get injured, but we do so willingly. It is a badge of honor. To say 'don't get hurt' is to say don't fight at all. I will always fight."
Wracking my brain, I try to find something better to say.
"Ok, then go kill them all."
The change in his demeanor is immediate.
"I will." He nods his head. "Then I will return to my prize. The warmth between your legs."
A shiver runs down my spine. When he leaves the room, I sink down into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I'm going to be bored but it could be worse. I would rather sit here, safe and alone, than have the excitement of danger. Normal, boring, calm, these are all things that I find comfort in.
After a nice nap and a long shower, I feel refreshed. Opening each panel, I search the contents. There must be something in one of these that will entertain me. In his closet, I pull on one of his shirts. It's huge and comes down past my knees but it's warm and the material makes me feel safe.
In another panel, I find countless small, crystal pieces. There must be thousands of them. They are cut into square, diamond and triangular shapes. Nervously, I run my fingers over one of the smooth, shimmering glass pieces. They're beautiful. They have an iridescent sheen that swirls in the light.
They are cool to the touch and the edges are perfectly straight but not sharp.
What could they be?
As I move to set it down, the edge of the one in my hand comes into contact with the edge of another small square. The edges click together, forming a small "L" shaped piece. They snap apart and back together easily.
They aren't colorful plastic cubes but they remind me of toys from my childhood, from earth. Pulling one of the long sleeves of crystals out, I sit on the floor and make a few shapes with them. A cube, a pyramid, then I stack them together to make a tiny hut.
A sound from outside scares me into quickly shoving them back into the panel and slamming it closed just as the door opens.
A large tray of food is set down on the table. The alien delivering it doesn't even look at me - not once. The tray is set down and he's departed without saying a word.
Taking a piece of fruit, I pop it into my mouth and reopen the panel.
There are thousands of pieces here. I could build anything with them.
Pulling out more sleeves, I sit down and start to build again. At first, there is no plan, I just click one small tile after another. Eventually, they start to take shape, forming the base for something interesting.
I'm not sure how much time passes but when my back starts to ache from being hunched over on my knees, I stand up and stretch, looking at my work.
I've created the base layer of a house.
It's been years and my mind is struggling to remember it, but once, when I was a little girl, my sister and I saw a dollhouse in a fantasy department store. It was beautiful. Every detail made my little heart sing. I remember specifically the porch that wrapped around the first floor. It was the kind of house that was in the movies. A dream house. A place where families live.
Sliding into the bed, I stare down at it as I start to drift to sleep. I'm going to build the rest of it tomorrow. It's strange how a sense of purpose, even over something as unimportant as building a dollhouse, feels new and exciting.
I have had nothing for years. This, as insignificant as it is, feels like something real and mine.
I can hardly sleep. I'm so excited to keep going. In my mind, I have a vision of how I want the completed house to look.
I'm sure it's early when I wake up. Normally, I would sleep for a few more hours but I'm too eager to keep building.
The first floor boasts the wrap around porch, a kitchen, sitting room and family room. The second floor will have bedrooms and the third, an attic. I'll complete it with a Victorian peaked roof.
When the door opens again, I don't look up. They will leave the tray. I'm busy!
"Shasta?"
"Fiona?" I stop what I'm doing long enough to turn around. "What are you doing here?"
"We're bringing you food and checking on you. What are you doing?" She looks past me at my creations.
"Oh," my cheeks flush red. "I found these little tiles and started making this."
"It's beautiful!" She moves to come into the room but her alien stops her.
He doesn't speak but he stands, watching me until it starts to make me uncomfortable.
Her alien is menacing in a way that Destroyer isn't. The way his eyes follow my every move reminds me more of a Monturian. He looks mean and hungry.
Without a word he grabs her arms and yanks her back, leaving me alone in the room again. I try to shake off the strange feeling but it lingers. Taking a breath, I try to focus on my project and not on the way my skin is crawling.
⚡Read and stay 9 or more chapters ahead and unlock 30 other adult romance titles at patreon.com/MyrandaRae
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
