The Last Marine (2 page)

But he’d been wrong.

Alfred may have forced her to marry him, to lie beneath him, but he couldn’t force her to take him as mate. Nor would Randolph. She still carried her mating marks, and they would be on her belly tomorrow no matter what Randolph did to her tonight.

“You Lythonians think you’re so smart, trying to keep your gifts secret. You can’t hide such things from the U.N. You gave Alfred the ability to persuade the people. And now you’ll give it to me.”

A tremor ran through her. She had fought Alfred. Randolph she couldn’t. After so many punishments by his hands, she knew what he was capable of—and all of that had happened before witnesses. Here, alone in this room, she couldn’t imagine what Randolph might do. She tried to back away, but his grip on her throat tightened. He jerked her terrycloth robe off her shoulders with his other hand, revealing she wore nothing beneath. As soon as the cold air hit her body, her nipples tightened and she hated it. Despised the idea he might take it as a sign of acceptance. Of excitement.

She tried to cover her body.

His fingers tightened until she dropped her hands to her sides.

“Please don’t.” He enjoyed strangulation. Waterboarding. Suffocation.
Do what you want to her, but don’t let her die,
Alfred would say.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Randolph’s face twisted in disgust. “I’m doing this so I’m successful tomorrow, and for no other reason. Do you honestly think I’d choose you when I could have anyone I wanted?”

His fingers flexed and she couldn’t help the tear sliding down her cheek. “Of course not.”
No one wants an alien like you,
Alfred would say
. You’re disgusting. Useless. Ugly.

“Do you think I’ll derive any pleasure from having someone as cold and frigid as you beneath me?”

Oh, yes. Alfred had told him everything.
It’s like fucking a knothole in a frozen tree.

“Do you?”

His fingers tightened until she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. She shook her head.

“You’re skinny.” His expression stated plain enough that he found her lacking. “Your breasts are too small. You have no ass, and your eyes are disgusting. Close them.”

Alfred hated them, too.
They’re the color of a day-old bruise,
he’d say
.
She shut her eyes.

“Undo my pants.”

She pressed her lips together, determined to refuse him. Black dots and bright pinpoints of light checkered behind her closed lids. Her lungs burned. She’d pass out soon. Or die. Either would be better than sex with Randolph.
Sex? Say it how it is. It’s rape.

She fisted her hands at her sides, resisting the urge to claw at his hand.

Her head went fuzzy and her lungs strained with the need for air. Randolph released his grip around her throat and her traitorous body inhaled a deep, painful breath.

His hand squeezed again, his breath rough against her ear. “We can do this all night.”

I can’t fight. If I fight, I’ll be in the infirmary tomorrow instead of escaping.

The threat of repeated strangulation extinguished the last spark of her resistance. That, almost more than what was about to transpire, brought fresh tears to her eyes. She’d been raped once before. This just happened to be a different body doing the deed. What pained her was her inability to protect herself. She was weak. Pathetic. Why couldn’t she be stronger? Fight harder? Get angrier? Instead, a paralyzing numbness washed over her. It slowed her heart, suspending her emotions. She went blank, as if her spirit disconnected from her body and became a dispassionate observer.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Prudence wrenched open his fly, pushing his slacks down over his narrow hips and under her gaze, his half-erect cock deflated, testament to how unappealing he found her. Alfred had only forced her once. He’d left her alone after that, barely able to stand looking at her.

Leading her by the throat, Randolph forced her onto the bed. “Spread those bony knees.”

She complied. She didn’t struggle as he mashed his flaccid dick against her most private place. She didn’t fight his hand tightening at her throat. She turned her gaze to the holo-projector and focused her blurry vision on the silent man facing trial, distancing herself from what happened to her body. She wondered, if maybe, if somehow Chief Payne might have shut down, too. Just like her.

They faced different demons hundreds of miles apart.

But tonight, they’d be silent and stoic together.

Her and her almost-hero.

Chapter 2

As soon as the door slammed shut, Prudence allowed herself to cry, keeping her face from the pillows so her lavender tears didn’t stain the white pillow cases. She couldn’t even say why the full-body sobs shook her so hard this time. In the end, Randolph couldn’t get it up. And by the time he returned to try again, she’d be long gone.

She didn’t understand Earthers. From what her mother told her, men never treated women in such a way on Lythos. Maybe because they knew they would never get their mate’s gift until they won over their woman’s heart. Or maybe they were better men. They would never use a woman this way.

Mating was sacred on her home planet. Celebrations were given upon the exchange of a gift—and it was an exchange, the male would receive a gift he needed to better support him and his mate and the woman would get the gift of a new life—a baby. Deep down, despite everything, even she still harbored some hope. Women with lavender eyes always bore daughters and she’d love to have a daughter.

Forcing herself to rise, she went to the window and stared down to the drive far below. Randolph would leave soon. The first faint hues of dawn poked through the skyscrapers, lighting the thick, green lawns and vegetable gardens growing on platforms outside the windows of each floor. Most days, she found the sight beautiful and inspiring. The tall buildings were vertical greenhouses for all intents and purposes, layered with various shades of emerald and jade and dotted with a rainbow of flowers.

Today, the street far below held her interest. The main entrance to the Parnell compound stuck out several hundred feet, allowing her to see the front entry. A limo pulled up, hovering over the drive.

Prudence palmed away the wetness blurring her vision and rubbed her puffy eyes. She waited, pressing her face to the glass. Randolph appeared ant-sized when he emerged from the building, but she was sure that was him. Thomas, the driver, wouldn’t dare open the back door of the limo for anyone else.

Randolph would be on his private transport to D.C. within the hour.

This was it. This was her chance.

A sudden onset of tremors shook her from head to toe so hard even her teeth chattered. Fresh tears welled in her eyes. There was so much she had to do. She couldn’t forget any of the items she’d planned to take—there would be no general store on Asteria—and she couldn’t take anywhere near the amount of gear she wished she could. If she walked out of here with more than one bag, security would become suspicious.

The enormity of what she was about to do hit her full force.

This was why she cried.

Why she shook.

What she’d endured at the hands of the Parnells and society as a whole was a known quantity. The adventure she’d chosen to embark on was not. Security could get suspicious and alert Randolph. The Blue Helmets at the spaceport might recognize her. The ship could crash. She might die at the hands of Scarecrows moments after disembarking on Asteria.

Or she might succeed.

Truth be told, she couldn’t decide what she feared most. What would success look like? Would success be living alone in a small cabin in hostile territory? Would she find a community? Friends? Would she grow old never knowing love or holding her daughter?

The one thing she did know: She’d never find out if she didn’t get moving.

Prudence took a cleansing breath and wiped her eyes. She crossed the room with purposeful strides and flung aside her closet door. She had stacked the shopping bags holding her supplies in the base of the closet last week. She didn’t reach for them, she stood there staring at the symbols of her freedom, paralyzed.

Don’t touch them yet. Don’t tarnish them with the smell of Randolph still on your skin.

She had to hurry. Barry was on shift right now, and he had a soft spot for her. He wouldn’t scrutinize her too much, not like the other guards. She flipped on the shower, jumping in before the water had a chance to warm and scrubbed herself. Five minutes later, the water was blazing hot, the bathroom smelled of eucalyptus and her skin was red, but clean. Every time her hands stroked over her neck, pain radiated down her back and across her collarbone. Her movement wasn’t hindered, nothing was broken, but she wasn’t surprised when she stepped out of the shower, wiped her hand over the mirror, and caught sight of the black stains around her throat.

Dripping all over the floor, she returned to the closet, and started shoving her supplies into the brand new duffle bag. Barry wouldn’t question the bag—she’d been taking goods to the Sisters of Charity for the war orphans once a month for the last six months. She left out a box of black dye and a pair of scissors and rammed them into her purse before dressing and shouldering her pack.

Calm down, Pru. They’re going to take one look at you and know something’s wrong.

Her throat! She returned to her closet and grabbed a hat and scarf from the rack and donned them.

Downstairs, she exited the elevator and walked toward the front entrance, clutching her bags.

Barry smiled when he saw her. The burly black man always had a smile for her. She had no idea why he worked for the Parnells—he was far too kind—but he’d always been here. “Mrs. Parnell. Off to do your good works?”

She had to crane her neck back to look him in the eyes which made her wince. “Yes. The Sisters are expecting me today. How’s your wife, Barry?”

Barry’s expression grew concerned.

Prudence’s breath caught. Had she given herself away?

“Alda’s doing real well. Thank you for asking.” His lips thinned. He took the bag with her gear and began walking toward the front doors.

Her whole body grew tense, wanting nothing more than to snatch the bag back. Her future was in there. Instead, she forced herself to stay calm and walk by his side. “And Jast?”

“Oh, well, now, he’s doing okay. Been a little rebellious lately, and Alda’s real worried.” He shrugged. “Me, I think it’s the age.”

The other guards watched their every move, their heads turning to watch their progress. “He’ll be all right. He’s always been very respectful to me.”

He held open the lobby door. “Here you go, Mrs. Parnell.”

She stared at the limo and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought it was Randolph’s.

Barry winked. “I saw the elevator coming down, so I called the car up.”

“Thank you.”

He handed off her bag to the driver, who held the door open for her.

“You’ll be back in time for lunch?”

Halfway into the limo, she paused. “Actually, I . . . I thought I might join the Sisters for lunch today. They always ask, and I never seem to have the time.”

He nodded, holding her gaze. “All right, then. I’ll let the cook know.”

“Goodbye, Barry.”

He waited until the driver stepped away and leaned down to look her dead in the eye. “You be real careful now, you hear? Be quick, be quiet, and be invisible.”

The breath stalled in her lungs. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
He knew.

Again, the large man winked. “I got your back, like you’ve always had mine.”

She managed a shaky nod, and a whispered, “Thank you.”

Barry closed the door and when the car pulled away from the curb, she turned to stare out the back window. She’d never thought of Barry as an ally before. Nice, yes, but not a friend. Not someone who’d risk Randolph’s wrath for her. She lifted her hand in a small wave.

He didn’t raise his hand in return, but he gave her a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. The Sisters allowed her into their sanctuary and loaned her the use of a room to dye her hair and change her clothes. She cut off most of her waist-length, honey-brown locks, leaving her now black hair just below her chin. The Sisters helped her create an ID with her new look and one of the nuns gave her a ride to the New York spaceport.

“I’ll pray for you, child,” Sister Agnes said from the driver’s seat. “This is poor timing in my opinion. You’d be better off waiting until next week when they launch the new
Apollo
.”

Tonight would be
Genesis V
's last flight.
Apollo
, named after the first space shuttle, would begin service next week. They said
Apollo
would be able to make the flight in less than half the time
Genesis V
did. “Next week I may not have the ability to leave.” Next week she’d be getting married if she stayed.

“I know.” Sister Agnes shook her head. “That’s why I’m driving you today, but you be careful. And remember to purchase the cheapest seat on the flight.”

Prudence smiled. “No problem there, Sister. I don’t have much money of my own.”

She stared out the window for the rest of the ride, as if seeing the city for the first time. Heat billowed from beneath the hover-cars racing down the roadway alongside them. Even early in the morning, the city bustled as society members dressed in bright colors crowded the clean streets winding in and out of the garden-tiered skyscrapers. Maintenance drones patrolled the walk-ways, making repairs, grooming the foliage and sweeping away the autumn leaves. New York was beautiful. Spotless. Crime-free. Poverty-free. Illness-free. All the people walking the street had someplace to be, a job, a home, and a specific place on the tiers of the new U.N. society. No one limped, no one needed canine assistance, and no one wore holey, dirty clothes. There were no street performers, panhandlers, or police, just brightly dressed society members hurrying to do their part for Utopia.

Sister Agnes pulled up to the loading dock. “We’re here.”

Prudence jerked her head in the other direction. New York spaceport was massive, over three times the size of the historic JFK International Airport. Two-story glass buildings surrounded three sprawling launch pads. Yellow-and-white lines dotted the tarmac and spaceport employees roamed the area in hover-carts and on foot. Only one ship was docked—
Genesis V
. It wouldn’t leave port until midnight. But, with a little luck, she’d be able to board now, and Randolph wouldn’t think to look for her here until she was long gone.

She scooted to the opposite side of the car and leaned forward long enough to kiss the Sister’s cheek. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Go with God, child.”