Chapter 5

We ride for many hours. It’s soon apparent that Seb’s comments about the fitness acquired when riding a horse weren’t made in jest. It’s exhausting. By the time we come to take a break, my ass feels numb, and every muscle in my body is quivering.

He helps me down. Although I sense that Seb is far from gentlemanly, I appreciate his help. I’m confident I would pitch straight onto the floor without it. As it is, I hobble around, trying to work life into my legs.

“If you need to go, now’s the time,” he says brusquely.

I see other women slipping off into the trees.

“Don’t go far.” He holds my eyes. “I’m trusting you in this. You won’t like the consequences of trying to run.”

Where would I even run to? I know nothing about this place. The forest feels oppressive and eternal. I’ve never been outside a dome, so I have no way of knowing what it might be like, weather-wise. But the climate is temperate, and in jeans and a sweater, I don’t feel too cold, at least not yet. But I’m not a survivalist. I would probably be dead in less than a day. I don’t even have the first clue of how to find food or water.

I nod, and when I turn away, my eyes—like they are subject to a magnetic pull—land on Ash.

He is helping the girl down from his horse. His hand lingers as he brushes the hair over her shoulder before he slides his hand to cup the side of her throat. I swallow and snap my eyes away, but that only brings me back to Seb, who is watching me watching them.

His lips curve, just a little. He’s amused. I don’t know anything about him, his people, or their ways, beyond what I have witnessed myself, yet I get the feeling Seb is amused by many things that a decent human being would not be… like what happened to Derek.

I shudder as I remember Derek’s face. The strange, unfocused aspect to his eyes after Ash slammed his face into the table.

I go about my business, and when I return, Seb is waiting for me.

He hands me a small foil-wrapped pack and a water canteen. When I drink, it has a faint metallic tang.

“You didn’t really believe the stories about us being savages, did you?” he says, gesturing toward the ration pack.

A few people have sat down. I don’t. I get the feeling I’m going to be sitting in the saddle soon and appreciate a moment to stretch my legs.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” I say honestly. “I didn’t intend to be here, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Yeah, I did pick that up.” He smirks, takes the canteen from me, and swigs back some water before handing it back to me.

We’re sharing it, I guess. How do I feel about that? Well, I’m thirsty, and thirsty people can’t be precious, so I take another drink. It feels strangely intimate to place my lips where his have just been.

Those harsh words Derek said return to haunt me. “More than a few women in this carriage are looking to be part of their next little batch of sluts or breeders or whatever the hell they do with them.” Only, nobody is doing that yet, are they? It’s all very controlled, but with dark undercurrents, like we’re all just waiting for the unraveling to begin.

The prickling sensation at the back of my neck tells me that layers are about to unfold and that I should wallow in my state of ignorance for as long as I can.

“You know he’s married, right?”

His words stir me from my rumination, and I lower the canteen from my mouth and frown.

“Your boyfriend—the dickhead. He has a wife.”

I shake my head slowly.

“Well, that’s interesting.”

Interesting isn’t the word that comes to my mind; more ‘ridiculous’ and ‘stupid’. That’s me; the stupid part.

“How did you not know he was married?” Seb asks. “How is that even possible when single women have to sign a disclaimer? Married women, or those who register themselves in a committed relationship, don’t need to sign it.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. If I still had any doubts about this being some kind of mix-up, they have just been unceremoniously shattered. “I didn’t realize what I was signing.”

He chuckles. “Really? How does that work?”

“Derek told me I needed to sign to get on the shuttle.” I look down at the ration bar in my hands. I’m not even hungry, but I know that I should eat. “I didn’t read it. I just signed it. I trusted him.”

He takes the canteen from me and takes another drink himself: once more putting his lips where mine have been. He lowers it and screws the cap closed. “I’ve heard there’s a whole black market of people who offer a temporary legal commitment for a fee. The women get to travel risk-free, and then the contract is revoked afterward. We can spot them easily enough. The same names come up on the scanner time and time again. Nothing we can do about it. And that’s fine. Usually plenty of willing victims.” His eyes slide down my body. “And not so willing ones, who are just naive.”

“No, I didn’t know that, either,” I say, asking myself why his comment about naivety stings when I’ve already surmised as much.

I didn’t know a lot of things, it would seem. I didn’t know that Derek was an asshole, but I found that out the hard way today.

“There’s always one or two on every shuttle,” he continues, “who don’t really want to be here. But, you know, that’s how it goes. Your government won’t do anything about it. Never have and never will. You signed a disclaimer. Maybe you’ve got folks back there who might raise a complaint, fill out a form and submit it, only to get a polite reply and a copy of the disclaimer you signed. Your folks will be sad, wonder where they went wrong, and then it will all fade into the background. Quota.” He winks at me. “Gotta get that quota up.”

This is really fucked up; surreal. I hate the thought of my parents searching for news on me, yet it feels worse that they might think I chose this. I should probably be more worried about myself. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what will happen to us… to me.

But I don’t. I’m not ready for that information.

“So you don’t know anything at all?” he asks, giving me a speculative look.

I shake my head slowly.

“Do you want to know?”

I shake my head again.

He smiles, amused by my avoidance.

Somebody snickers to my right, and I turn to look.

Stupid, Isla. Really fucking stupid.

The blonde girl is on her knees, and she is sucking Ash’s cock.

I feel sick, really sick. I start shaking, but I can’t even work out why I’m shocked when the realist in me knew this was coming. It’s because of Seb, I realize: the easy conversation, the smiles, the way he shares the canteen and radiates a relaxed energy. So, even though I fucking knew this was coming, for a moment, I blinded myself to the truth.

“Well, that all escalated fast,” Seb drawls.

I feel like my world just got dirty, and I want to wash it off. I should turn away, but I really can’t. It’s like I’m watching a slow-moving train wreck. He has got his fist in her hair, and his cock is shuttling down her throat. It’s big, like, abnormally big against my limited pool of comparison, and a struggle for her to take. She gags a little. He tightens his fingers on her hair and continues to use her throat in a way that seems far too rough.

My stomach tightens as a sharp, almost painful sensation rips through me. I turn away just in time to sink to my knees and throw up the water I just drank all over the forest floor.

Once I start heaving, I can’t stop.

A cheer goes up. Whether at me or at the girl’s performance, I don’t have a clue. I’m far too busy dry-heaving.

By the time I finish with my theatrics, my face is hot and sweaty; I’ve got a headache, and I’m painfully aware of coarse laughter. Not from Seb this time, but further away.

Boots enter my field of view, and the water canteen is presented to me.

I take it with a nod, rinse my mouth, spit, and then drink properly.

“Time to move out,” he says. His tone is gentle, like he’s sensitive to my plight. Only, I know that he’s not.

I push myself to my feet, and he helps me onto the horse. My muscles protest from the moment my ass hits the saddle, but it gives me something to think about. My band of focus is narrow. I can’t look any further than my hands. Why do I feel embarrassed by my reaction? It was a normal reaction, right? It’s barely a few hours since we left the shuttle, and it has already begun.

Seb mounts behind me, gathers the reins in one hand, and passes me the ration pack I must have dropped on the forest floor. The horse dances under him, and we begin to move out at a walk, following the procession through the forest path.

“Eat it. That’s not a suggestion. You can take it as an order. You’re going to make yourself ill if you don’t eat and don’t drink enough. You’re going to have to trust me when I say Ash is going to bust my balls if anything happens to you, and I really prefer my balls not to be bruised from making an acquaintance with his boot.”

My snort is derogatory. “I doubt very much he’d care.” I wish I could take the words back the moment they leave my mouth.

“Ah, princess,” he says. “The fall is long, and the landing is hard. There’s not a damn thing I can do to soften it. Nor would I be doing you any favors if I did. If you’re going to survive here, you’re going to need to censor your feelings.”

I feel the blood leach from my face.

“I saw that look when you thought he was picking you. You weren’t sure how you felt about it, but now you realize he wasn’t, you feel a little sick.”

I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“There’s no such thing as jealousy or possessiveness here. Women are available to all. Sure, some are prettier than others, have bigger tits or curvier hips, or magic fucking pussies that you just want to stay inside forever. But variety always wins. Why worry about this one or that one when you know you’ll get your turn? Besides, every one of our recent acquisitions is hot. We might have favorites, maybe the one who moans just right or sucks our dick the way we enjoy it best… the one who likes it rough or comes like a fucking vise around your cock… But near and available trumps getting into a fight.”

His blunt words hit me like a douse of cold water. And just like that, the veil is lifted, and my ignorance is gone. I don’t offer my opinion. But, as he has just pointed out, my opinion doesn’t matter anymore.

“If you’re wondering if he’ll fuck you, the answer is: for sure, eventually. If you’re wondering if I’ll get to fuck the pretty girl he snagged first, the answer is the same.”

My stomach clenches in an annoying little tell.

“There’s an upside to this life. You’re never going to feel unwanted or undesired. We won’t lie to you or pretend to be into you beyond the passing moments we share, beyond the fact that we care about you all and would protect you to that end.”

His sales pitch needs some work.

“Some women take to it, you know. Find it liberating or some shit.” He chuckles, but his amusement fades quickly. “After a while, you get good at reading the new ones. And I have a feeling you’re going to rail against it for a good long time. Still, everyone accepts it eventually. I’d tell you to remember that when self-pity comes calling, but my bet is you won’t. Self-pity won’t save you, nor will it deliver you something special with the violent man you convinced yourself you didn’t want, and are now certain that you need more than the next breath. Self-pity will only bring you pain.”

“Thanks for the pep talk. You’re an asshole, by the way. I think you might even have overtaken Derek in the asshole ranking, and I really don’t like Derek today.”

He laughs. “I like stoking the fire, princess. I also like that you’re probably going to fight me the first time, maybe the second. Maybe every fucking time. I’m going to be covered in the scars your nails leave behind. But I’d bet my left nut that you’ll come hard and loud, all the while thinking about him and how you didn’t want him until he rejected you.”

“You talk too much, Seb.”

He laughs again. “I like my name on your lips. Later, you’ll be calling me something else.”

He’s an asshole, but he is also perceptive; I’ll give him that much. And damn if his words don’t ring the prophecy of my doom.