Page 48 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
So gross.
The rattle of the dumbwaiter drew him back into the main room. Malori joined him for oatmeal and fruit, which had some flavor to it. “How varied is the menu here?” Kensley asked, despite having no desire to be around long enough to experience multiple meals. He just hated oatmeal.
“Not much,” Malori replied. “Except for when I was pregnant. Then they sent small treats, like cookies or ice cream.”
“Did you ever see a doctor?”
“A few times, but she didn’t speak to me a lot, other than during the births. Her accent was muddled, too, like she was trying to disguise it.”
“I guess you never got her name.”
“She said Dr. Luther, but who knows if it was real?”
Kensley thought back to the brief glimpses of Marta he’d seen before she (at least, he assumed that had been Marta) drugged him at the beach house. “What does she look like? The doctor?”
“I’m not sure. Average height, white, I think, but she also wore a cap over her hair and a mask, like a surgeon. Same as when she coached me through my births.” Malori’s voice cracked. “I hoped my second birth would be different, that I’d actually get to keep my son. I thought…but I was wrong. I was wrong about so much.”
“I’m so sorry.” Kensley squeezed Malori’s wrist, not surprised when Malori flinched and shifted farther away.
“Master will probably come today. To see you.”
“Fantastic.” Kensley grunted then studied his spoon, curious what sort of weapon it would make.
As if reading his mind, Malori sighed. “Don’t even consider it. They have cameras all over the place. If all the utensils and plates aren’t returned to the dumbwaiter, they’ll know. They won’t send any more food until you do, and they’ll shut off the water to the bathroom. Trust me, I tried everything my first few weeks.”
The precautions didn’t surprise Kensley, but they did infuriate him. He’d just have to get more creative in protecting himself when this Master appeared. He hadn’t even met the man and already resented referring to him as “Master.” Nah, he’d think of this person as Sadist for now, because that’s what he was. A fucking sadist for selling Malori for sex, and for having done it to at least one other omega before Malori. And they had no way of knowing how many others (male omegas, alpha females, or just regular people) were being exploited in the same way.
All for money.
King had money. King had power. But Kensley also knew his brother drew a hard line at sexual exploitation and human trafficking. When King found him, he would tear Kensley’s captors apart.
Not wanting to press his luck on his second day here, Kensley returned his entire tray to the dumbwaiter. When Malori did the same and closed the door, the gears ground to life, whisking their empty dishes away. Kensley studied the dumbwaiter door, curious how strong the wood was. His fingers brushed behind the decorative wood paneling and ran over cool metal. Reinforced.
Damn it.
Much smarter people than him had created this prison, so Kensley was unlikely to find a weakness or escape route.Wouldn’t stop him from resisting with every breath in his body, though.
Malori settled in one of the armchairs and drew his legs up to his chest. “Please tell me about the outside world. It’s been a lifetime since I’ve had someone to talk to who wasn’t lying to me.”
“I wish I could tell you more than I know, but like I said, up until a few weeks ago, I was living in an abbey.” Kensley sat on the end of the couch nearest Malori’s chair. “I saw parishioners multiple times a week for services, but we rarely spoke about anything that wasn’t spiritual. I was friendly with my fellow priests, but we weren’t allowed to watch TV or consume much media. Then I spent the last two weeks on a tropical island, sequestered away from the world.”
“Tell me about the island? Please?”
Kensley did, describing his short-lived paradise, while leaving out all the sexy bits. His heart ached for Bishop, and his body mourned the loss of his nearness, but he tried not to focus on those things. On their now-five-days apart. He concentrated on the good things: the smell of saltwater; the crash of ocean waves; the sweetness of fresh conch; snorkeling over a coral reef.
“It sounds like a dream,” Malori whispered. “Something I’ve only seen on TV.”
“It was a wonderful experience, but there was still danger. I ended up here, didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. Will you tell me more about you? Your life before this?”
Malori frowned at his lap, where he didn’t stop twisting his fingers around each other. “I barely remember my life before this. It wasn’t all that great, anyway. Like I said, my family hated that I was omega. My choices were the Order or the street, so I chose the street. I lived in shelters and worked whenever I could,usually under the table. But there was more money in dealing drugs.”
“Oh.” He’d expected some history of prostitution, but selling drugs was just another way of selling your body—especially if you got hooked on your own product. Then again, the story wasn’t over yet.
“Dealing was dangerous, but I made enough to stay in cheap motels, to eat regularly. But I was also using, and addicts aren’t known for making great choices. I got arrested a few times, spent some time in jail, thankfully in my own cell. It’s not like I’ve got omega stamped on my forehead, but sometimes I swear someone can look at me and just tell. You know?”
