Tricked again. Fejo stomped through the ship, needing to get fresh air and not breathe in Vanessa’s intoxicating scent any longer. When he’d read those letters, it’d been like a metal boot slamming into his ribs. Of course she hadn’t married him because she’d liked him. She’d done it so she could get back to Earth. He’d been so stupid. The signs had been there in front of him, and he’d just ignored them.
He’d wanted to believe so badly that a female would choose him that he’d rendered himself blind. And the worst part? He understood why she’d done it. The pain and heartache in those letters from the other females were enough to show him exactly what Vanessa might be going through.
Humans weren’t allowed to go back to Earth, but that didn’t mean their previous lives no longer existed. Their loved ones had been left behind and were probably suffering just as much as the abducted humans were.
Fejo had never had anyone who’d miss him like that. Maybe that was why he hadn’t suspected anything. She must’ve jumped at the chance to leave Clecania.
Stopping, he scanned his surroundings and found his feet had carried him to the pool. Ripping off his expensive, expertly crafted clothing, he let it crumple to the floor in a disrespectful heap. The clanging of his knives hitting tile echoed through the room. He waded into the cold, salty water and let his heavy body sink to the depths.
The hidden gills running below his ears emerged, and he sucked in his first inhale of water. The cool liquid burned as it entered his throat and cycled out through his gills. Yet the pain of transitioning from breathing air to filtering oxygen through water was familiar and comforting.
He recalled the first time his gills had appeared. The scientists at the lab where he’d been born had been upset he’d shown no physical characteristics of the ancient Clecanian race he’d been created from. And their lack of success at recreating a viable fetus from ancient DNA had made them detached and desperate. They’d tested him endlessly, always searching for answers to one question. Why him? Why had Fejo been born when so many others hadn’t?
He’d been maybe six or seven when they’d first decided to test a theory. They’d taken him to the ocean and made him swim, encouraging him to dive under and hold his breath. He’d been so scared of the powerful waves, though, rarely dunking his head for more than a few seconds before begging to come back to shore.
Eventually, an elderly male named Gured had held him under the water. Fejo had clawed at the male, kicking as hard as he could through his fear. Just when he’d swallowed his first mouthful of water and been sure he’d die, he’d felt slicing pain on the side of his neck.
He recalled the feel of what he now knew was his throat flap flipping closed to keep the water from entering his lungs. But as a child, he hadn’t understood. He’d kept trying to breathe normally, unintentionally opening the flap and gulping down more and more water until everything had gone black.
When he’d woken on the sand, spewing up salty ocean from his lungs, he’d seen Gured’s broad grin. Fejo had known then and there he wanted to escape. The male hadn’t cared that he’d almost died. He hadn’t cared that a small boy had been terrified and in pain. He’d just stared at Fejo’s gills with a self-satisfied smile, no doubt seeing Fejo as nothing more than a mystery to be solved.
Over time, he’d learned to control his breathing. To let his throat close and allow the water to wash through his gills and send oxygen into his blood. Once he’d mastered it, he’d learned something very interesting. His winged overseers couldn’t breathe underwater. They couldn’t even enter the water for too long, or their wings would become saturated and heavy and they’d drown.
So, he’d started swimming deeper and deeper. Sitting out of reach on the ocean floor for hours and staring into the distance of the dark water. Until one day, he’d finally built up the courage and kept swimming until he’d reached one of the other hundred islands that made up the Clecanian city of Huvuita. He’d been eleven.
Now he sat on the bottom of his custom-made saltwater pool, feeling just as alone. Had Vanessa worked out her plan when they’d first met in the marketplace? She’d said she’d known she was going to marry him only a week before, but she could’ve been lying.
Fejo was tired of feeling like this. Like all he was good for was as an experiment or messenger or hired hand. All he’d wanted to do was make her happy and finally claim a bit of happiness for himself. As it turned out, he’d never had a chance at either.
He laid back and stared up through the rippling surface of the water. What was worse was he was weak. Despite her betrayal, despite the fact that she didn’t actually care about him, he still wanted her. It’d taken everything he’d had to leave her beautiful, naked body.
She’d so sweetly followed his orders—had been aroused by them, even. If he’d wanted to, he was sure he could’ve had her right there. But he didn’t want sex to be a transaction between them.
What was he supposed to do now? He was furious and embarrassed and hurt. But mostly furious. He’d been bandaging the cuts to his soul for far too long now. Always being patient. Always seeking affection and approval. But now, finally, something in him had shifted. This was the last straw. He couldn’t do it anymore. He wouldn’t pretend like what Vanessa had done didn’t affect him.
Maybe it was time to truly become the male he’d been pretending to be for so long. This was the last time he’d feed the Queen information. This was the last illegal and dangerous run he’d make for Klinara. And when he got back—and rid himself of Vanessa—he wouldn’t enter any more ceremonies. He was done being toyed with.
The line on his right arm bristled, and he knew someone had entered the room. The vibration of heavy steps traveled through the water and tickled his sensitive lines, telling him exactly where in the room the new person was standing.
He peered up through the water and saw bright white wings. Uja.
The male was his only friend on the ship. One of the few friends he had. The only one who knew everything. They’d met as children on the protected island compound Fejo had found himself in after running away.
Fejo shot to the surface and waded out of the water.
Uja took one look at his face and rumbled, “Having problems with your wife?”
Shaking out his wet hair, Fejo glanced toward the door.
“I locked it,” Uja assured. “You shouldn’t have done that to Capra today. He’s raging.”
He shrugged. Stabbing Capra through the hand seemed the least of his worries at the moment. “Do you think he’ll retaliate?”
Uja shook his head. “I believe Maladek has him contained.”
“You think he’s a trustworthy male?” Fejo questioned, slipping on his clothes. They scraped against his oversensitive damp skin.
“No. I think he’s smarter than Capra, and that means I don’t trust him. He may be up to something. Or he may just have a better understanding of when to make noise and when to remain silent,” he explained without emotion, staring hard at Fejo.
He grunted but didn’t respond.
“What happened?” Uja questioned in a low tone.
Fejo’s pride was still injured and heat flared on his neck, but he needed to confide in someone. He honestly didn’t know how to handle Vanessa, and all the suggestions his brain kept throwing at him were far too dark. He needed a voice of sense in this instant. “She wants me to take her to Earth,” he grated through tight lips while glaring at the ground.
Uja nodded with raised brows. “Ah.”
Fejo paced around the pool. “Yes. Ah, indeed. I should’ve realized sooner.”
“Are you going to take her back?”
“No!” Fejo barked, both livid at the idea of Vanessa getting her way after what she’d done and sick at the idea of never seeing her again—though he chalked up that response to a lingering loyalty to the female he’d thought was his wife. “I don’t know,” he breathed. “No. I can’t. Not now.” He peered back at Uja, who was silently following his pacing. Fejo threw up his arms. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“It’s not smart to travel to Earth. The entry to that galaxy is being monitored more heavily now that the Alliance has learned about humans. I don’t know what Klinara is having us get, but whatever it is, it’s big, and she’s nervous about it. We don’t want to be caught with whatever it is.” Uja’s jaw tightened. “Besides, if she thinks you aren’t following her orders…”
Fejo stilled. She might go to the authorities. “Surely it’s been too long?”
“You killed someone,” Uja reminded him, his voice firm. “Her father. And if she wanted to, she could push for the maximum sentence. The only way to protect yourself is to expose her operation.”
“She could still tell,” Fejo muttered, recalling the night he’d snuck into Dawten’s room and ended his life. At the time, he’d thought he was doing a noble thing. He hadn’t found out till years later that he’d been manipulated.
Uja shrugged and scooped an errant blade off the ground. “She could. But if she were jailed and her ring of buyers were exposed, her word would carry much less weight. And didn’t the Queen say she’d protect you at that point?”
Fejo snatched the blade from Uja and tucked it away. “She ‘said,’” he retorted with a sneer. “I’m starting to believe nothing anyone says carries weight.” He stomped to the door, but Uja stopped him.
“What are you going to do with the human?”
What was he going to do with her? Devious ideas ran through his mind, and a grin pulled at his mouth. “Whatever I want.”
***
After spending a few hours doing everything she could think to break down the door, Vanessa collapsed into a frustrated heap of exhaustion on the bed. She tucked her knees into her chest and tried to calm her mind.
She had no idea what Fejo was going to do next, but no matter what, she had to get off this ship and onto the port tomorrow. From there, she could call Alice, and they could help her figure things out. That was, if Fejo ever let her out of the room again. She spun when the door opened and Fejo sauntered in.
His hair was wet, and he carried a tray of food. He stopped and examined the room as if trying to spot inconsistencies. She’d thought about destroying everything to prove a point about keeping women locked up but held her temper in check.
He set the tray down without a word and motioned to it with a flippant wave of his hand. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. Her stomach rumbled. The earlier commotion in the cafeteria had ensured she hadn’t eaten much today. She made her way to the lower level and stared down at the tray. There were no pastries. He must really be upset with her.
She ate a few bites of the other food just to get something in her stomach. When it finally hit her system, a wave of exhaustion forced her to sink lower into her seat. It felt like the day had been never-ending, and for hours now, she’d been running on adrenaline and fumes.
Movement from the bathroom drew her attention, and all at once she was alert again. Fejo exited the enclosure, fully naked. For a moment, she couldn’t look away. God, he was beautiful. Rigid muscles, smooth skin, and a large, velvety shaft hanging between his legs. There was something interesting about it, though. She canted her head to the side. It was pierced through the thick head, and there were shallow ridges forming symmetrical raised designs along the shaft. Vanessa was transfixed.
“Are you done eating?” he asked in a low rumble, walking right up to her. His cock twitched, and her brain started up again. She finally tore her gaze away and looked up at him in confusion. His gaze was heated and hungry.
“Yeah. Why?” she asked, embarrassment at her ogling heating her cheeks.
“Because it’s time for bed,” he said matter-of-factly. She didn’t have time to respond before he hefted her over his shoulder in one smooth movement and made his way to the sleeping loft.
“Put me down,” she gasped, gripping his back. Then the world spun. He’d flipped her off his shoulder, and she landed with a bounce on the mattress. She braced herself for whatever was coming next, but he only slid her over and laid down next to her. “What are you doing?” she asked, tensed to rise. His lids slid closed, and he crossed his arms behind his head, stretching out his long limbs. Vanessa forced her focus to remain on his face, though she could only imagine how devastating he looked sprawled out on the bed like this.
“Sleeping in my own bed.” He let out a cross between a groan and a sigh, relaxing farther into the mattress.
She nodded to herself. That was fair. He’d been sleeping on the couch like a gentleman and giving her the bed. Now he wanted it back.
“Okay,” she said under her breath, making her way to the edge of the mattress, content to sleep on the couch, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest, spooning her. Vanessa froze, not sure what to do with this new development. She wasn’t a cuddler, and she certainly didn’t want to cuddle with the man she was plotting to abandon.
She squirmed, trying to rise, but his arm was like a band across her waist. “Let me up. I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs,” she argued, pulling on his arm with all her strength.
He grunted. “No, you’ll stay here, wife.” He said the last word in a cutting tone.
Vanessa couldn’t understand what was happening. Didn’t he hate her? She’d abused the most sacred thing in his society. Something she was sure he’d always wanted. He should be locking her up, not holding her in a firm yet gentle embrace. “Why?” she asked.
“Because I’ve never slept with a female. And I enjoy smelling you.” He shifted, pulling her tighter to him, and curled his hips against her ass.
Vanessa’s body grew rigid and her scalp tingled. She suddenly became very aware of the hard bar of his cock against her butt and lower back. His hot breath ghosted over her neck and ear, and she held in a shiver, but she couldn’t stop the arousal from building in her core.
He let out a satisfied rumble and nuzzled his nose into her hair, then the crook of her neck, squeezing her waist. “Mmm, yes. That smell.”
Her cheeks heated and she ground her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut, mentally trying to cool her libido. The heat from his body seeped into her skin, and his smell—like the beach on a hot summer day—invaded her senses.
She hadn’t relieved herself after he’d left her hot and bothered, and she was regretting it now. With no idea when he’d come back, she’d been too afraid he’d walk in and catch her pleasuring herself, so she’d just let her arousal slowly dissipate.
Big mistake. Next time he left, she’d have to take matters into her own hands. She squeezed her thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building.
His fingers tightened on the soft part of her belly and he ran his mouth along her neck. “Ask me to take care of you, and I will.” His voice had gone low and rang with another challenge. He wasn’t offering out of the goodness of his heart. He was trying to make her suffer now. She squeezed her legs together more tightly. No. She wouldn’t break down and beg him.
“Are you going to take me back to Earth?” she asked instead, needing to remind herself of what she was working toward.
His other arm slithered under her head and wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her flush with his chest. “No.”
She swallowed. “Are you going to let me call my friends?”
“No.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Vanessa felt her eyes growing wet. She held back her tears, her throat aching to let out a sob. And damn him, but when he pressed a kiss to her scalp, some of the tightness in her throat lessened.
She lay awake, trying to devise an escape plan for tomorrow, but every idea she had seemed impossible. He wouldn’t let her call her friends, so she’d have to figure out how on her own. Was that even possible? And any plan she did have relied heavily on one very important factor: Would Fejo even let her go to the port with him?
Her mind whirred with activity until her thoughts became messy and unfocused and her lids kept sliding shut. Fejo’s deep breaths and warm, comforting arms wrapped around her lulled her to sleep.
Memories of her fight with Julie invaded her dreams. She awoke in the dead of night, the image of Julie’s beautiful, devastated expression clear in her mind. Vanessa’s insides roiled with guilt and desperation. A vise gripped her heart.
Fejo’s forearm was draped over her shoulders. She listened, ensuring his breathing was deep and even. Satisfied he was asleep, she brought her hands up to grip his arm and pressed it closer to her collarbone, dipping her head so it rested in the crook of his elbow. Some of her tension faded, and after a while, she drifted to sleep again.
