Taken (13 page)

"Please don't touch me," she said.

"That wasn't very convincing," he said, frowning and playing idly with one of her nipples.

"Leave me the fuck alone," she said, letting some of her rage out.

He smiled then, and she wished he hadn't.

"That's more like it," he said, stroking her rigid buds with both hands. It was a physiological reaction. She couldn't help it. She didn't want the asshole to touch her.

Then he pinched both of them hard.

"Ow," she said. She was getting angrier.

"Beg me," he ordered. "More desperate, less angry."

Now he was giving her acting lessons? What the fuck was up with this guy?

"Please leave me alone," she said in her most desperate voice, and it wasn't acting.

"No," he said, getting off the bed and dropping his pants. "You want me to fuck you, I'm going to, and you're going to love it."

"No," she said, trying to twist away. He was going to do it. He had lulled into complacency, but now she was terrified.

"No!" she screamed as he pulled off her thong, leaving her sex completely vulnerable to his assault and wrenching her legs apart.

He knelt between her thighs, taking himself in hand and she felt his cock touch her entrance. Unable to help herself, she screamed.

"Yeah, that's right, baby, cry out," he said.

At the moment when Lyzette thought rape was inevitable, he suddenly keeled over, collapsing on the bed. She looked around. What had happened? Did he have a heart attack?

"Stun gun, lethal setting," Mikael said, walking over and pushing the dead body off the bed where it landed with a thump. Then he turned to Lyzette with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Lyzette nodded dumbly. Raimey walked over, pulling a knife from her pocket and snapping the blade out. She cut the bonds that held Lyzette captive.

"When Jol couldn't find you two, we suspected some foul play," she explained. "And since everyone knows where Deese's underground lair is, we came over."

"All of you?" Lyzette said.

"Sure? What else did we have to do? I shot three guys tonight. Sure beats shelling peas," she said. Raimey smiled at Lyzette.

Mikael helped Lyzette scramble off the bed. Her legs were shaking. She was reeling from the fact that she had almost been raped — twice. She was also trying to come to terms with the idea that Raimey and the others had helped to save her. She was wrong about them being jealous.

Lyzette pulled on her thong and skirt. Her shirt was nowhere to be seen but at least she had her bra.

She crossed her arms over her chest and felt like throwing up.

"Ready?" Mikael said. When Lyzette nodded, he led the way out, leaving Deese's dead body on the floor.

Lyzette curled up in her bed the next morning. She didn't want to get up and face the day. She was lucky that she escaped without being raped, but she was feeling traumatized by her situation.

She locked her door and wasn't letting anyone in, no matter how much the women knocked and pleaded. They went away eventually. Mikael hadn't shown up yet, but she wouldn't be able to turn him away.

She didn't want to face anyone. She felt dirty.

She couldn't help replaying certain moments in her mind.

She didn't know if she would ever like sex again, or if she'd be able to have sex with Mikael. She longed for him, but not in a sexual way. She wanted to feel safe. That was all, and nothing more.

There couldn't be anything more between a slave and her master.

She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep when suddenly she heard a thump on her balcony. She sat up in bed. She was wearing a pair of long pajamas which covered as much of her body as possible. She didn't want to see herself.

Mikael's head peeked in through one of the French doors a moment later, and her heart stopped pounding.

"Mikael," she said, lying back down. She turned away from him and pulled the covers up, curling into a ball.

"Lyzette, I know that you didn't want to see anyone."

"But you're my master, and you have access to me anytime you want. I know," she said, her voice dull. She wondered if he wanted her body right now. Why else would he come? She sat up then and began unbuttoning her pajama top.

"What are you doing?" Mikael asked, looking confused.

"Don't you want me?" she said, and it was her turn to look confused.

"Right now? For sex? Are you crazy? Of course not, especially not after what happened yesterday."

Lyzette stopped unbuttoning.

"I was going to say that I know you didn't want to see anyone, but I had to make sure you were okay. And I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize? But you didn't do anything wrong."

"I did. I committed the ultimate sin. I didn't protect a woman in my care. And for that I am sorry, Lyzette. I should have done better."

"You saved me in the end," she said, staring at him.

"It never should have happened. I got sloppy. I made mistakes, and Deese took advantage of me. It should never have happened," he repeated. "Please forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," she said, stunned. No one had ever apologized to her before and asked her forgiveness. She had thought that was all fiction in books she was forced to read in school.

He walked over and sat down on the bed, wrapping his strong arms around her. She held onto him and sighed deeply. She felt the sobs rising inside her. She tried to stop them, but she couldn't. They were too powerful and overwhelmed her.

She cried and cried. Mikael held her and offered her a tissue to blow her nose.

"Mikael, you don't understand. Things like that happen to girls like me all the time. It's probably all my fault. That's what mother said whenever anything bad happened to me."

Mikael stared at her, shaking his head.

"Pardon my swearing, Lyz, but your mother sounds like a real bitch. Nothing that happened last night was your fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. And you're not to believe such nonsense anymore. I think you should forget everything your mother ever told you."

"Maybe," Lyzette said. "She didn't like me very much."

She started crying again. It wasn't because she missed her mother, but because she didn't miss her at all, which seemed inappropriate. They sat holding hands side by side on the bed. Eventually, Lyzette looked down at their clasped hands and frowned at the bandages on Mikael's wrists.

She looked carefully at his face. It was difficult to see. Dim light filtered into her room through her closed curtains. She saw a black eye and purple bruise on his cheek, and a cut lip.

"Mikael, you're hurt," she said, running her fingers lightly along his cheek where the bruise was.

"It's nothing. I would have gladly gotten hurt more if I could have prevented what happened to you last night."

She sniffed and sighed.

"What happened to your wrists?" she asked.

"I was tied up. I had to get away. I did whatever I needed to do to get free. It was not a choice to remain a prisoner anymore."

She lay down again.

"Mikael, will you hold me?" she whispered. She was afraid he would leave and afraid he wouldn't want to touch her if there wasn't sex involved.

"Of course, Lyzzie," he said, lying down behind her and wrapping his arm around her, pulling her tight against his body. "You're safe now. And I swear I won't ever let anything happen to you again."

Life returned to normal the next day, and Lyzette came out of her room. No one gave her special treatment. Mikael had told everyone she didn't want people coddling her.

She helped in the kitchen and washed more windows. She tried to put it all behind her.

But there was the issue of having sex again. She didn't know what to do about that. It seemed strange that something she had never done before should become central to her life so quickly. But she supposed that was the life of a consort. It was all about sex.

That night at supper, the women were talking about the latest gossip — the shifts in the clans.

"The Markanor lost us a shitload of points two days ago," Delia said, not looking at Lyzette. "And The Delanor is taking advantage of it. He's attacked all nine of the other clans in the past two days, earning points from all of them. He won't need to win by much at the match tonight."

She looked grim at the thought.

"I thought the Delanor was dead," Lyzette said. She suddenly felt frightened.

"I mean his replacement, sweetie, don't worry," Delia said, patting Lyzette's hand.

"I don't understand," Lyzette said.

"Their clan is nearly equal to ours for points now. By taking so many points in such a short period, his clan will only need to win three of their setups to surpass our clan."

"But doesn't that mean that they will usurp the Markanor?"

"That's right, Lyzzie. The ruler hasn't been taken out like this in over a hundred years. Usually, the person dies, and the clans battle it out to see who comes out on top. These sorts of machinations aren't the Markan way, dear," Maureen said.

"What will happen to us?" Lyzette said, feeling small and helpless.

"The Markanor wouldn't be ruling the planet anymore, so he would become the Hawthanor again, like before their family came into power. But there won't be a large difference in his wealth."

"Oh," she said, the relief pouring through her. If Maureen told her that someone else was going to buy her, she would have died right then and there. She couldn't stand all the turmoil and fear again. She wasn't strong enough. Lyzette didn't even know how she had made it this far.

A part of herself that was intensely glad that she would still be with Mikael. She squashed that thought, but now that it had emerged, she couldn't unthink it.

"But what about Mikael?" She didn't know how he would feel, but she was sure he wouldn't be happy.

"You mean, the Markanor, Lyzette," Maureen reproved her sharply. "He doesn't like slaves calling him by his given name."

"He doesn't?" Lyzette wondered. She was confused. He had told her to call him Mikael.

"Never. It's simply not done, my dear. Now I don't know how you heard his name but don't ever say it again. Slaves don't call their masters by name."

Lyzette jaw hung open, and she shut her mouth.

"You understand, Lyzzie?" Maureen said. "I'm sorry to speak sharply, but I don't want you to get into trouble, dear. Okay?"

Lyzette nodded. From what Maureen had said, she committed a gross breach of etiquette. But Mikael had told her to call him by his name, right? What did that mean?

The only thing she could imagine was that he didn't consider her a slave. Why that would be, she didn't know, but it troubled and confused her. Did Mikael have feelings for her that were more than sexual? She didn't know. But she wanted to find out.

Mikael walked back into the compound and up to the house. He ambled around, doing an inspection out of habit, as his father had always done when he returned home after a trip away. Mikael had only been in the city for the day, meeting with the advisors from his clan.

He noticed some gutters that needed cleaning and a window frame to repaint. When he got to the back of the house, he realized that somehow his meandering path had brought him directly underneath Lyz's bedroom. He couldn't keep himself from glancing up at her balcony. He hoped but did not expect to see her.

She was there.

Her long dark hair was down around her face, and she wore a pure white nightgown. He thought he could make out her dark nipples but perhaps it was only his imagination.

He longed to have her again and make love to her, but he didn't know what to do. She didn't want her to touch him, and he wouldn't impose. He didn't mean to push her into anything.

How long could he contain his desire for her?

She held a notebook in her hand and gazed at the moons, sketching furiously. She would draw for a few moments, then look back up at the sky and sketch some more. She was absorbed her work.

He hadn't known she was an artist, and he wondered what other secrets she had. He wanted to know everything. How she liked her coffee. Whether she wore socks to bed in the winter time. And most of all, what he wanted to know was how she felt about him.

He sighed.

His father had raised him to be a man's man and to win at the matches. He knew how to fight hard. He worked out, and his body looked good. No fat, lots of muscles.

But this scrap of a girl from some backwater, no-name planet, had him watching her in the moonlight and sighing. What was wrong with him?

And that's when it hit him, like a surprise push in a match that landed you on your ass.

He loved her.

This little slave that he could never marry. She seemed to be afraid of her own shadow. She barely valued herself higher than a piece of trash. This beautiful woman had given her virginity to him with such passion that it took his breath away.

He loved her.

He, the Markanor of the entire planet, loved a slave. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Now that he could see it, there was no denying his feelings.

He loved Lyzette, but she was his slave. He could possess her body, but he could never have her as his wife, and that was the only thing he wanted.

"Lyzette, you don't have to come to the match if you don't want to," Mikael said. He sat down next to her in the orchard.

She had started coming out here after her work was done, to draw. Her sketch pad was hidden behind her back as she leaned against the tree. The instinct to conceal it was too powerful for her to stop now.

He took her hand but didn't try to kiss her. He hadn't attempted anything since that night.

Lyzette didn't know if she was glad or sorry.

"The match? When?"

"It's tonight. I thought you knew. It's the final match. The one that will decide everything."

"Your clan could lose, and then you wouldn't be the ruler of the planet anymore."

"That's right."