Page 19 of Stolen Slave

Tears trailed unchecked down my cheeks from behind my bandages as his fingers started moving again, slowly rubbing the cleanser into my folds. Then he moved on, down my leg without invading my entrance.

A shaky sob of relief escaped me.

He said a few words and patted my leg without stopping his work.

Right. Everything’s okay. Just washing your new pet. Nothing to it, I thought.

After all, his care was far better than what the other creatures had shown me.

So far.

And it was that lingering worry about his purpose that tore through my hope. He might seem kind, but according to the fey who’d negotiated with our planet’s leaders, most species in space were sorely lacking breedable women. That’s what aliens wanted us for. That’s what those plated aliens had finally wanted from Mila.

I didn’t want to be a breedable female.

Rather than dwelling on what I couldn’t control, I wiped at the moisture on my chin and thoroughly washed my face while he finished with my feet.

I noticed how the air was getting warmer and more humid. The association between the bathhouse and this was immediate. The rasp of my panting breath filled my ears. I started to shake, and my head swam.

My new owner nudged me a few steps then pulled me crossways onto his lap. I sobbed even as I tried to stop. He pulled me close to his chest, my skin easily sliding over his legs. I tensed, but didn’t feel the press of an insistent—or worse, wiggling—appendage against my hip. At least, not that I could tell.

He said something I didn’t understand then started petting my arm in long, slow strokes.

Long minutes passed. The room grew warmer. Wetter. But he did nothing else. Just held me and petted me.

The abject panic slowly faded, and my sobbing calmed to hitched breathing. The heat soothed my abused body, and I felt myself relaxing.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered.

He said something and shifted his petting from my arm to my head. The feel of his fingers running through my hair soothed me. Sighing, I gave in and relaxed against his massive chest.

The steam seemed to melt every ounce of tension from me. Spent from the adrenaline spike, I didn’t react when his hand returned to my arm. He smoothed over it again and again, this time like he was rubbing in lotion. Then he gently wiped my face.

Trying to make up for my bad behavior, I tipped my head up so he could see what he was doing.

His fingers brushed briefly over my lips.

A beep sounded, and he lifted me in his arms as he stood. Although I couldn’t see them, I guessed the lights were blinking like the last time I’d showered and held still. Eventually, my skin dried, and he set me on my feet.

He said something more, patted my shoulder, and petted my head, almost like he was praising me for taking such a good bath.

Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl? Vya’s a good girl! Yes, you are, I thought to myself.

Hey, whatever it took not to suffer. That’s where my bar was set these days.

He stopped touching me, and I listened to a rustle of sound from behind me, like material rubbing against material, then his touch returned. He ran his hand down my back and butt, then over my arms.

It almost felt like he was double-checking that I was dry and clean. I really wished I could talk to him and let him know that showering wasn’t that big of a deal for a human. And that I could manage it solo.

He set his hand on my back, a signal that I was starting to recognize meant I was about to get a ride. Fed, clean, and feeling ridiculously mellow, I willingly leaned into his chest as he picked me up again. A nap would have been welcome. However, we didn’t return to the room with the bed.

He strode forward more than the twelve steps it’d taken to get from the kitchen to the shower before I heard the familiar rasp of a door opening. He took a few more steps, then sat and settled me onto his lap once more.

This time, it didn’t send an immediate jolt of panic through me.

I sighed, relaxed into his hold, and hoped that my pet suspicion was right. I also hoped I wasn’t permanently blind because I needed to figure out a way to communicate with him so I could get home again. At the very least, I’d like to know if he had another chair I could use. All this lap-sitting might be fine if he actually thought me a pet, but I wasn’t willing to place bets on that yet.

He didn’t seem too focused on the fact that I was naked while he, apparently, got to wear clothes. Maybe he thought he didn’t have anything that would fit me due to his size. My fingers drifted up to his chest, feeling the material of his shirt. It covered his arms and opened at the neck. I could have easily worn it like a dress.

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