Page 46 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
“It’s sweet that you believe it.”
“It’s not sweet, it’s true.” Kensley would lose his mind if he believed anything else. “So, you don’t know where we are? Does this Master asshole have an accent or anything?”
Malori shook his head. “I don’t know where we are, and Master is very careful in how he speaks. The men and women who’ve had me…their accents vary. Some don’t even speak English.”
“So we could be anywhere in the world.” He refused to let that terrify him as much as it wanted to. Giving in to terror wouldn’t help him. “Do you know how long you’ve been here?”
“One thousand, one hundred and four days.” Malori pointed to a spot on the wall full of small hash marks. “I note every sunset I witness.”
Kensley wasn’t great with math in his head, but he knew that was more than three years. Three years of sexual slavery. Hewanted to retch but kept hold of himself. “I’d rather die than live like that.” The words slipped out before Kensley could censor himself, and his face flushed.
Malori barely flinched. “I thought so, too. I imagined any number of ways to end my own life, but then I couldn’t. It wasn’t just my life at stake.”
“You got pregnant?”
“Yes. I was brought here just before my fertile cycle. I remember the face of the man who I believe impregnated me, but I don’t know his name. I never saw him again.”
Malori had been impregnated not long after he’d arrived here, but— “Wait, where’s your baby?”
“I don’t know.” Malori sank into one of the upholstered chairs, his entire body exuding a kind of peaceful misery that confused Kensley. “After I gave birth, I was allowed to nurse for ten days, and then my daughter was taken from me. And I went back to work.”
“Ten days.” Kensley swallowed back another urge to retch. He couldn’t imagine getting out of bed ten days after giving birth, much less being forced into sex. And to have his child stolen? Given away? Sold? A new kind of rage overtook his terror. “Fuck. I am so sorry, Malori.”
“I try not to think about her. Or my son.”
“What? You have two kids?”
“I birthed two. They were taken. They aren’t mine.”
The way Malori spoke suggested those words had been trained into him, and Kensley ached for his fellow omega’s pain. Kensley could not fathom the idea of having one child taken from him, never mind two. Forced pregnancy, forced birth, forced separation. It was revolting and inhumane.
“I am so sorry, I can’t even say it,” Kensley replied. He pressed his palms over his own belly, newly terrified for the babyhe could be carrying. “I will fight for you, Malori. I’ll fight for all of us.”
“Please, don’t fight for me. I gave up a long time ago. Fight for yourself.”
“No.” Kensley moved to kneel next to Malori’s armchair and held the quivering omega’s hands in his. “No, I’ll fight for us. Before this happened, I discovered the myth of charum is real. I met my charus. I know he’s looking for me. So is my brother. I’ll die before I stop fighting. But you don’t have to fight. I know you’re tired. Just don’t give up.”
A single tear slipped down Malori’s left cheek. “I’ll do my best. I’m not sure how much I have left. It’s why they brought you here. I’m sorry you’re here because of me.”
“I’m not here because of you. I’m here because of greedy, disgusting men who think they have a right to what our bodies can do.” Kensley was also here, in a way, because of his half-brother’s career choice, but blaming King’s business wouldn’t help him right now. He had to focus on the present, and the present was all about survival. “When you first arrived, how long was it before this Master came to see you?”
“Maybe a day. You were brought here this morning, and it’s close to dinnertime now. It’s hard to say when he’ll come see you.”
If he was recalling his days correctly, that made today Thursday. Kensley’s stomach rumbled with both disgust and hunger. “How are we fed? I don’t see a kitchen anywhere.”
“The dumbwaiter.”
“The what waiter?”
Malori pointed at the wall near the door. Kensley had assumed the large wooden grid there was a wall decoration, but as he looked directly at it, he saw the empty space behind. “The dumbwaiter. It’s like a little elevator that moves food betweenfloors. They were popular in very old homes. I guess this one is old, too, because the food is sent up through there.”
Kensley stood and walked to the dumbwaiter door. He pulled at the wooden frame, but it didn’t budge.
“I tried to get out that way, too,” Malori said. “Trust me, Master has this place escape-proofed.”
“Maybe. Like I said, I’ll never stop trying. Do they ever drug your food?”
“Yes, when they choose to, and before you suggest it, the punishment for not eating is worse than what they occasionally put in the food.”
