Page 35 of The Thren's Fated

Lena shrugged out of his grasp when he released her arms, fixing her dress as his tentacles slid away from her.

Screl’s eyes were wide, and for a moment she wondered if there was guilt roiling through him or if it was just shock.

The air was thick with tension, and she wrapped her arms around herself, sniffling hard to stifle the tears. She kept her eyes glued to the window, focusing on glittering stars instead of the male standing before her.

“I can help you sleep,” he said finally, breaking the silence and forcing her to look his way again.

Before she could tell him to fuck off, he slid a tentacle around her neck, and her body went limp, every muscle weak as she slumped into his arms. She tried to fight the exhaustion, but it was impossible, her eyes shutting as Screl heaved her into the air.

INTERLUDE

I can’t do it. I can’t, I can’t. Feeling her squirm under my touch almost ended me, just as much as her slumping in my arms, unconscious. I could do anything to her like that, and she would be helpless to protest, to fight the inevitability of our joining. I like her helplessness, but I like her fire as well. I want her to struggle, to fight, and I think she wants that too. The officers are growing restless; we are supposed to be on Botune by now, but I cannot face my family. Hopefully a relaxing evening will appease them, just as having a job to do will appease her. I don’t know what I am going to do after this. Amira is the only one who knows, but even she can’t save me from our father’s wrath.

CHAPTER 12

Lena awoke with a start, running her fingers along the soft sheets as her eyes adjusted to the room.

Her room. She was back in bed, alone, though a Thren sat in the corner, watching her.

Dronzal.

The prickle of fear faded, though her body still flushed with the memory of last night, how desperately she’d pleasured herself and how Screl had done the same with his tentacles. Pressure welled in her chest, and she couldn’t decide what made her skin crawl more—that he had a power over her that she had no hope of stopping, or how much she wanted it to happen again.

Without a word, she slipped out of the bed, hurrying to the bathroom.

“Is everything alright?” Dronzal asked from behind the door as Lena removed her dress, trying to take deep, calming breaths.

“Yes. I’m going to shower.”

That must have appeased the Thren, because Lena heard no more as she fiddled with the controls until the water was the perfect temperature. The heat calmed her, at least a small amount, and she tried to focus on the sensation of water streaming down her body instead of the way she wanted to cry because Screl wasn’t here.

Why the fuck was she so hopelessly obsessed with that monster?

He’d violated her in a way she could never forgive, and yet all she felt was elation as she thought of last night, of him holding her against the wall and forcing her to come on his tentacles. He had been gentle enough, but she knew he was holding back, and a sick part of her craved more, wanted him to unleash everything on her.

Depraved thoughts, indeed, after all he’d done, ones she tried to force away as she dried herself and headed back to the bedroom.

Lena dressed in a new outfit, a low-cut, silky red number. She smoothed the fabric over her curves, enjoying how it hugged her belly and hips. The low-cut wasn’t too terrible, though her breasts were making their best attempt at escaping.

Screl wanted her to stay in the room today, Dronzal informed her over breakfast. No, she couldn’t see the commander, and no, there was no way to know when he would return.

After satiating her hunger, Lena lay in bed for a long time—tempted to read another holonovel, but thinking better of it—before growing bored and pacing the room.

Dronzal remained silent unless she asked a question, watching her closely but never uttering an unnecessary word. Eventually, Dronzal clicked through some barriers on the console, allowing them to watch an Alliance news station. Boring, but better than nothing.

Better than erotic holonovels.

Later, Lena rested, zoning out but not asleep. She was tired of waiting for Screl, and no matter how she begged, Dronzal wouldn’t let her leave the room.

When the door whooshed open suddenly, Lena sat straight up, knowing it could only be one person.

Screl prowled in, causing Dronzal to jump to attention. Lena did the same, standing on the opposite side of the bed. There was the familiar metallic ringing of laughter, which had a pleasant melodious quality despite the clear ill intentions.

“My beautiful little pet,” Screl said with a thunderous growl.

He’s mocking you. Your uneven breasts, your wrinkles, there’s no way he finds you more attractive than all the escorts who’ve slept in this bed.

Reflexively, she crossed her arms, trying to cover some of her bare chest. The quiet laughter continued as he stalked over, leaving her nowhere to run.