Page 11 of Kenan's Mate
You are forever mine. This part of his declaration calms my concerns that he’ll discard me, possibly by killing me, to take a new mate in the future. At least I don’t have to worry about staying in his favor simply to remain alive. How difficult will it be to adapt to his culture? Do I even want to try?
I don’t understand why his strong arms and the heat of his body feel like a refuge. How is that possible after the harshness he’s visited upon me?
“Laylah, I want you to use the bathroom, clean up, even take a shower if you wish, and then put the robe on. Come downstairs after you finish, and we’ll have dinner.”
He kisses my forehead then releases me and strides through the door without another word, leaving me alone with only my tormented thoughts as company.
In a trance, I rise from the bed. The light gray covers are stained red with my blood, and so is the cloth, but the pain is completely gone now. The medicine he applied to the rag worked wonders.
This is not how I’d envisioned losing my virginity. Not in a million years.
On shaky legs, I walk to the window and gaze into the night. There’s nothing but darkness, stars, and the two orange moons. I stand there for about five minutes, wondering how far the ground rests below. But I’m not like the kickass heroines in the movies and books from my childhood. I’m too chicken shit to attempt climbing down or jumping out the window, so I obey Kenan and take a shower.
It takes some time to figure out the controls and how to adjust the temperature to my liking, but I eventually get it working and help myself to the fragrant bottles of soap to wash every inch of my body, including my hair.
After I snatch one of the plush towels from a hook and dry off, I wipe the condensation from the mirror and gaze at my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed from all my crying, and a faint pink mark tinges the left side of my face. My breasts look like hell, but I don’t think they appear as damaged as earlier. The welts are fading with no signs of bruising.
I sigh and towel dry my hair as best I can then venture back into the bedroom in search of the robe. The oversized garment drags on the ground with each step, but I’m grateful Kenan has permitted me clothing.
Grateful. I shake my head. Maybe the trip through the wormhole made me delusional or off-balance. I don’t understand my odd desire to please him, or my automatic gratitude for the smallest kindnesses he bestows on me. I try to summon blazing hatred for the monster who stole my innocence, but I’m not convinced my dislike for him burns hot enough. I tell myself I’m in shock and the hatred and repulsion will arrive later, after the initial disbelief over today’s events wears off.
I smooth my damp hair behind my ears and head for the door. As I descend the steps on the tall, wide staircase, I pray he leaves me untouched for the remainder of the night. And I pray he’s lying about the wormhole. I don’t want to believe I’ll never see my homeworld and my family and friends again.
His house is obscenely lavish, beset with sparkling chandeliers, awe-striking paintings and artwork, and extravagant moldings and arched ceilings with skylights. Coming from a lower middle-class family, I’m not used to luxuries of any kind. Dad’s a construction worker, and Mom’s a medical receptionist. Oftentimes, they survive paycheck to paycheck. I used to work weekends at a grocery store to help out. The only reason I got into Harvard is because of the recommendation of my father’s step uncle, who’s a tenured professor at the prestigious school. Oh, and one hell of a student loan with a few tiny scholarships sprinkled in.
I wonder what Kenan does for a living. His home screams wealth and sophistication. Given his barbaric treatment of me, I would expect him to live in a primitive cave in the side of a Tallian mountain.
“In here, Laylah. In the dining room!”
I smell something delicious that reminds me of lasagna and my stomach rumbles again.
Taking a deep breath, I amble toward the open doorway, praying I’m not the main course.
Chapter Six
Two servants attend to us during the meal. Neither of them speak, and I can’t discern whether they are male or female. They aren’t human or from the same race as Kenan. Short, bald, and with milky white skin, they glide in and out of the dining room bringing in new courses and taking away dirty dishes.
I’m so starved I devour everything placed in front of me. Nothing is recognizable, but it’s all quite delicious. I also indulge in two tall glasses of what tastes like wine. It makes my head buzz and leaves me relaxed. When I request a third glass, though, Kenan shakes his head, says something in his native tongue which I don’t understand, and the servant instead pours me water.
“I’ll not have you becoming inebriated, Laylah,” he says in a scolding, almost fatherly tone. “Thisyinsizawine is strong stuff, and you don’t look like you weigh more than a hundred pounds. I doubt you can hold three glasses without getting sick.”
I stare across the table at him as I sip my water. I place the cup down and clear my throat. “I’m a hundred twenty-five pounds, actually,” I reply, as if claiming those extra twenty-five pounds would make him fear me, or respect me more. I’m ever aware of his great, intimidating size. Had I seen a man of his stature on Earth, I would have forgotten my manners and stopped to gawk. “So you know how to speak English perfectly, and you also know human standards and measurements?”
His visage darkens and he sets his utensils down. “My father raised me until I was twelve, rarely letting me see my mother. I endured a rigoroushumaneducation at the facility I was kept in until I was freed. I know more about Earth and the history of your planet than I care to.”
“I’m not your father, you know. Or any of the others who held you in that facility. What you did to me upstairs…” My voice trails off as my throat closes up.
“Your peoplecame to Tallia not long after we settled here. Our numbers were smaller back then and we were weak, still recovering from a terrible war that we won, but only at great cost, with our home planet left uninhabitable. Then your people started capturing and experimenting on mine. We’ve spent the last few decades gathering our strength and rebuilding our last remaining warships in order to fight back against the human invaders. The resort town of Capital Acres has been demolished. All the human males have been killed, and the females captured will be used as slaves or mates. You ought to be thankful you survived the attack on theStargazer.” He leans forward and his eyes glitter with madness. “You ought to thank me for saving your life, Laylah, and carrying you off the ship when I could just as easily have snapped your neck, or left you to die on the floor in your quarters.”
I push back from the table and start to leave the room, but I pause in the doorway and clutch the intricate molding. The last time I ran from Kenan, he punished me. I spin around and make my way back to the table, glaring at him with contempt as I return to my seat. “I don’t want to be here,” I say slowly, deliberately, “so perhaps you should have left me to die on theStargazer. It’s preferable to this hell.”
He leans back in his chair and finishes off his glass of wine, his glowing purple eyes never leaving mine. A servant drifts into the room to refill his cup then quickly departs.
“Or,” I continue, “you can finish what you should’ve done in the first place. Go ahead. Snap my neck.” I’m being dramatic, perhaps even a bit childish, but I’m pissed off and want nothing more than to storm out of this room and slam a door somewhere. Then I remember all the doors in this house slide open and shut automatically and I clench my teeth until my jaw aches. I finger the stem of my glass of water, imagining the satisfaction I’d gain from hurling it into his smug face.
“If you throw water in my face, little human, I will turn you over my knee and spank your naughty bottom.” He’s using the scolding, fatherly tone again, as if I’m some errant child in need of correction.
I don’t like the way my behind tingles at his threat, or the heat that gathers and pulses between my thighs. With a frustrated sigh, I set the glass on the table and tuck my hands in my lap, away from temptation.
