Reid was in pain. The longer he waited for the bone deep ache to subside, the more intense the sensation grew and he could still feel him there. With every echoing breath, the phantom fingers lingered across his skin, erupting into the vicious darks and blooms of color that he could not escape. He was a prisoner in his own body.
As if the filthy Dragons hadn't taken enough. Now they robbed even his own desires. There was no way to hide this reaction, to blend and bury the reality that his body was no longer his own. No, he was a beacon now, to everyone who would ever lay eyes upon him, that he wore a collar and Kincaid held the leash.
The alien in question did not return for the remainder of Reid's Rut and he didn't know whether or not he should be angry or relieved. His instincts screamed in outrage, but the rational part that hid deep in the crevasses of his subconscious knew it was a victory. Small as it was.
When the fever finally broke, Reid felt like he could breathe again. Even if it felt like he was suffering from pneumonia, lungs filled with fluid, rattling with each inhale, a breath was a breath and he wouldn't take it for granted.
Even though his body ached and filth coated his skin, he managed to stumble his way into the bathroom, ignoring the gentle tinkling of the chain scraping against the floors. He washed himself as best he could with a rag at the sink and rinsed his mouth since no one had bothered to give him access to a damn toothbrush.
The soap tasted powdery and disgusting but it was leagues better than the layer of chalky grime his previous meals had left behind. He didn't bother trying to tame the mane on his head, it wouldn't lay flat, not with just water. He needed shea butter or coconut oil to do anything with it and he doubted he'd find that here.
After freshening up the best he could, he made his way back into the room, noting the sheets had been changed and a new cart of food had been left within reach for him. It still amazed him how the servants could work so quickly and silently when he was only feet away and be none the wiser. A majority of the time they were like ghosts.
Reid sat on the freshly made bed and pulled the cart close. Taking the tops off the dishes, the smell of food only served to make him nauseous, even though his stomach clenched with hunger. It had been days since he held anything down. The Rut hit him viciously, robbing him of any desires for food. Lust and hatred fueled him for those few days.
A part of him thought the Naerians would make sure he ate during those times, not because they cared, but because they needed him in prime condition if he was to pop out those eggs like they so desperately wanted. That assumption was quickly proven wrong. His Naerian captor could care less about his health and wellbeing and oddly enough, he didn't even try to breed him.
What was he waiting for? It was the whole purpose wasn't it? For all of this? If he had no intentions on breeding him he would have just left him alone. He should have left him alone. It didn't seem like he even wanted Reid around. None of his actions made any logical sense which only made it that much harder to plan.
If Reid wanted out, he'd have to play by their rules. Escaping wouldn't be an option, not right now when he was quite literally chained to the bed. There had to be some way to gain his Naerian's trust. Just enough to release him from these shackles. After that, he could figure something out. He just needed to get free.
And doing that required knowledge on his captor. How could he make him budge? What would he be able to offer? All of this hinged on what exactly he wanted with Reid. An answer he could easily get when the alien rarely even showed his face.
Reid combed through every interaction he had with Kincaid, remembering each reaction and what would trigger it.
It was safe to say that blind worship didn't interest him. That much was clear from the slightly distasteful looks he gave Reid's mother when she praised him. He also wasn't overly rough with handling Reid as many other Naerians have been whenever they come to claim their humans. Meat, cattle, slaves, that was always how they'd viewed his kind.
Kincaid didn't seem to care for them one way or the other. His indifference was as helpful as it was infuriating. As grateful as Reid was to not being forced to breed like so many others, it messed with any possible plans he could have developed. Enticing him with sex wasn't even on the table and that would probably have been his best bet in gaining his trust.
With a sigh, Reid nibbled at his food, barely tasting it as he worked furiously to come up with a plan.
How many days had it been since he was taken? He hoped his mother was alright. If only he could get a word out to the others.
No news of the rebellion's attack had reached him. Granted, he wasn't exactly in any position to receive information held in isolation like this. He didn't even know where he was. He may be far from the inner cities, away from everyone and everything he was used to. Damn it all, he could be on a different fucking planet.
Doubtful though.
Besides, his captor was clearly of high rank which meant he was likely somewhere in the central city. Again, another double edged sword. If he got closer to the capital, he could find out more information to feed the rebellion. Maybe even locate where the Gemma Crystal farm was. All of that depended on getting on Kincaid's good side.
Submission. That's the only route he could go. Not in the zealous way that his mother was, but a cold acceptance. Lure the monster into a truce. It was the best he could do with his limited options. It was his only option.
Rage curled in Reid's gut with a tenacity that hunched his shoulders and threatened to release all that he had stored inside. The feeling was so unexpected and disorienting, it took a few moments to understand that it didn't belong to him.
What the hell?
But as quickly as the feeling appeared, it disappeared, leaving a bitter taste like bile on his tongue. Reid smacked his lips, face scrunched up in repellence.
Strange.
In the silence, Reid waited, alert and curious, but the feeling did not return. Was it sickness? Poison?
Unlikely. Poison seemed the least logical explanation in his case.
Reid frowned but went back to eating even though his hackles weren't fully lowered. Suspicion and unease still roiled through him.
He'd barely gotten a few bites in before the doors swung open with a loud crash and the weight of the world came slamming down on his body.
Kincaid burst into the room like a villain with vengeance a beacon in his heart. Reid could hardly believe the intensity of the aura that pressed down on him. And the fury.
A beast lurked behind those ochre eyes and it was hungry. Not the usual lust one would expect from a Naerian, but the desire for blood. It was that look alone that had trained military units to abandon all resolve and flee. It was that look that brought humanity to its knees.
He was utterly terrifying.
Fear was a difficult bull to wrangle when once it ran amok inside. Reid couldn't move, could only watch as the Naerian stalked him. His morá blazed along his temples as his golden skin seemed to ripple, threatening to shed the humanoid skins they dawned on this planet in an effort to blend in.
He had crossed the room in second, mere inches from Reid who was powerless to stop whatever would befall him. He could only watch in mute horror.
This was it.
This was the moment that everything changed. He had questioned far too much and now there was no denying it. He would be claimed. It was all for this moment.
Cold and bitter hate ate at Reid's heart. His plans of submission were forgotten as he glared. Every piece of his sanity brought forth in those dark brown eyes. Those prideful lips twisted into a sneer that didn't seem to fit his pretty face.
It was hard to ignore, even with the beautiful blooms of Gemma in his skin, reacting to Kincaid's pheromones, pushing him back into the Rut he had so recently escaped.
The scent of his slick filled the air but it was tainted by the abominant displeasure in the human's soul. That alone was what brought Kincaid back to control. For that snap moment, he sobered, relishing in the comfortable feelings of contempt the human always fed through the bond. It stabilized the creature within the Naerian that so desperately wanted to mate, to declare dominance over the embarrassment of a King.
He was stronger. He was more dominant.
As much as he fought, the need in him raged. Its vicelike grip had him in a chokehold, driving his actions as he tore at the human, forcing them on their stomach. Not even noting how the human did not fight back. Kincaid was too far gone, the need was everything.
Stop.
The words belonged to Kincaid though they never left the confines of his own mind. In those few seconds, he had blinked away the instincts and recovered control of his body, sucking the aura back into the poorly designed box in his soul. It would stir, it would leak, it could not contain him, but he did his best to remain in control.
What little control he had left.
At the height of it, Kincaid lurched forward, sinking the fangs that would not retract into the flesh of his arm. Blood gushed into his mouth, further sobering him.
Before he could even comprehend what had transpired, he left. No longer trusting his ironclad control.
Reid lay on the bed panting, wondering just how close he had come to really losing everything.