Chapter 9

Ishouldn’t have done that. Now I’ve crossed over one of those lines that Ash set. But, fuck it. I’m only human. Well, not quite human anymore, but close enough to make the point valid.

I’m being a moody bastard with her, but I can’t rein it in. The abstinence is making me feel unhinged. That’s not me. I’m not the unhinged one. That’s Ash. He has got some kind of psycho fucking chaos gene embedded in his DNA. He thrives on conflict; loves it—fucking gets off on it.

Usually, I’d be good to roll with Ash and his bullshit.

Except he gave her the max dose, and I’d swear on my left nut she’s already sliding.

She’s skittish, and won’t look at me as we head for the canteen. And her hands are shaking again. But, then, I did just come all over her, and my inner voice tells me she wasn’t ready for that.

A louder, more insistent voice tells me this is going to progress whether she is ready or not, and that I won’t be able to help myself soon, no matter the fallout.

When we reach the canteen, I put my hand on the back of her neck. She jumps at first, but then relaxes, and that calms me some, taking the edge off the urges riding me: especially the one that wants to spread her out on the nearest canteen table and fuck her raw.

When we enter the room, someone is doing exactly that with one of the new ones. The woman is flat on her back, her legs wrapped around his neck as he pounds into her, and all the shit on the table bounces around. On the other side, another man is feeding her his cock. Choking her on it, more correctly.

“Keep moving.”

When Isla stumbles, I direct her on with my hand still locked around the back of her neck.

Ahead, Ash and Noah are sitting at a table. Noah is wolfing down a breakfast wrap. Ash has the blonde girl on his lap. She is naked and covered in tiny bruises. Seeing them cranks my unhealthy tension up another notch.

Asshole.Nope, I’m not going to give Ash the satisfaction of seeing me crack, just because he’s put me with Miss 99.99% and max dose. Time to up my poker game.

I march Isla straight past them to the food dispenser, order two basic breakfast selections, and, with both trays in one hand, march her back to the table. I take the seat opposite Ash with Isla next to me, facing Noah.

All my good intentions go out the fucking window when Ash bestows a lazy smirk upon me.

“When?” I demand.

Ash’s eyes slide to Isla, who is staring fixedly at the food I just put in front of her. She couldn’t stand to see him with another woman yesterday. The fact that the same one is now naked on his lap is going to be pushing a lot of buttons. Isla has got it bad for him, that was clear even before we dosed her up. Maybe she really hated her asshole boyfriend and appreciated Ash fucking him up?

Maybe violence does it for her?

The thought that she might get off on violence has adrenaline flooding my system.

What can I say? I’ve always enjoyed the fight.

“Not yet.” He strokes his hand over the blonde’s hair. She looks a mess, like he has been at her all night. I know he doped her up, too, but something tells me she’s not going to reveal, at least not yet.

I swipe a hand through my hair. My food tray is just sitting there on the table, and I don’t think I can eat a thing. Meanwhile, Noah has finished downing his first wrap and is halfway through a second. I look at him steadily before I look back at Ash. “I think Noah needs a turn.”

Noah pauses, the food halfway to his mouth. “Fuck off—I’m not having a turn.” He side-eyes Ash and shakes his head firmly. “Fucking no.”

“I agree. No,” Ash says.

Noah releases a breath, grins at me, and shoves the rest of the wrap into his mouth.

Noah is easygoing, even after the change. Ex-military, tough as nails, and annoyingly perky at the same time. Sometimes I want to strangle the bastard for no reason other than that. But now that grin tips me over, and I’m ready to pummel him just as soon as I get him alone. His amusement fades, and he gives me a wary look that tells me I’m projecting.

Ash smirks. He’s a sick bastard, and he likes to play us off each other. I shouldn’t give him ammunition. All of a sudden, though, he narrows his eyes and looks between Isla and me in a way that sets me on edge. “Something has happened between you two.”

I glance at Isla. Although her eyes are still on that tray, her face is flushed and she’s looking guilty as fuck. I don’t feel guilty—fuck him. “I needed to take the edge off.”

Ash’s smile turns enigmatic but with a dark, edgy undertone. I’m confident he’s thinking about rearranging my teeth. He slides the girl off his lap, slaps her ass, and says, “Go back to our room.” And I know that I’ve pushed him over the edge.

I brace myself just in time as he launches himself across the table at me.

I scream. Buzz Cut, now known as Noah, plucks me out of my chair just before it’s sent skittering across the floor into another table. A great cheer goes up as Ash tackles Seb to the floor, sending a passing man bowling into a row of occupied seats, his breakfast tray flying.

The adrenaline hit is instantaneous as my body and mind pitch into flight mode.

I slap my hands against Noah to try to shove him away so I can make a bolt for it. “Don’t mind it,” Noah says, taking a tighter hold of me. His voice is low, but with an upbeat quality that’s all out of whack with the carnage taking place on the floor as Ash and Seb kick, scuffle, and trade meaty blows. “They just need to work off a little excess energy.”

Whistles and catcalls accompany the stamp of boots on the floor and the thump of many fists against tables as the room roars its approval.

Before yesterday, I’d never witnessed an act of violence in person. It’s too much, the other memories are too fresh, and I can’t be here. “They’re trying to kill one another!”

“That’s surprisingly accurate,” Noah says, still sounding unruffled as he assesses the brawling pair. “But they’re evenly matched, and the likelihood of one of them dying is relatively small.”

Is he joking? Am I the only sane person trapped inside a giant asylum?

“Worth a punt, though, Seb,”Noah had said back in the shuttle. “Just to mess with him, if nothing else.” Maybe Seb would have walked past us if Noah hadn’t said that.

Maybe I wouldn’t be here.

“This is all your fault.” I beat and strain against Noah in an ineffective way, my fists uncoordinated. I want out. Away. Not to hear the terrible grunts of pain that reach me above the noise of the raucous crowd. My whole body is buzzing. Something about how he holds me with such ease twists everything up inside. I can’t stop fighting even though I know it’s not going to do any good.

“My fault? How? Hey, you’re going to hurt yourself,” he says softly. Changing tack, he plasters my body against his, trapping my arms against my sides.

This all feels so inevitable. That somehow or someway I was always going to end up here. The constant discordant note at the back of my mind tells me this is bigger than I can possibly imagine.

Except I’m not ready for another layer to be peeled back.

On the floor, Ash has Seb in a headlock, and as they roll, he wraps his legs around him. “Time fucking out, asshole,” he grunts.

I feel fragile and volatile all at once.

Does Ash have an endgame, or does he just like the game?

The walls are closing in. I can’t breathe.

I know nothing about Ash or his motivations, or even Seb, although I think I know him better.

“When?”Seb had said. He was asking Ash when he could fuck me. And then he said Noah needed a turn. Only I don’t want to be handed off to Noah, any more than I want Seb to fuck me.

On the floor, the fight goes out of Seb, and Ash slowly releases him.

I turn my head away from them, into Noah’s chest.

I’m lying to myself on every count, especially when I try to convince myself I’m not interested in Ash. A week ago, I’d have said there wasn’t a violent bone in my body. A few short minutes ago, I wanted to score my nails down a woman’s face, one who was guilty only of sitting on his lap.

She is nothing to me.

Look what he has done to her. Do I really want that?

The two men have risen, and the occupants of the room go back to their food.

It’s not until their eyes land on me that I become aware of how I’m plastered against Noah, with my nose half buried in his chest. His touch feels protective; this feels intimate.

Like Seb, Noah smells nice, and with each breath I take of his scent, a little thread of arousal pulls all the way down to my core.

Maybe Seb has broken me, after what he did in the shower this morning. Or maybe, as I suspect, it’s the drug in the second vial turning me into this rampant sex-starved animal.

“I’m honest. Mostly,” Seb said.

Between the drug and his frequent pep talks, it’s little wonder I’m mentally all over the place.

Seb’s jaw is locked rigid as he stares at Noah’s hands on me. His nose is leaking blood, and there is a bruise forming along his right cheekbone. Not that Ash looks any better.

Seb nods at Noah. Noah sighs, sweeps me up and lifts me back over the table and into Seb’s arms.

My chair is collected. I sit. Seb pushes the food tray in front of me and tells me, “Eat.”

I was hungry when we arrived last night. I’m starving now, so I eat, even though Seb and Ash were just going at one another with murder in their eyes.

Yet I also feel unwell, feverish. Not like a cold, anymore, but worse, like the flu or some other virus. I can’t stop shaking, and every inch of my skin is sensitized to the touch. On top of that, my nipples are permanently hard—just the material brushing across them as I fork the scrambled eggs into my mouth drives me to the point of distraction—while between my thighs it’s slick and achy.

“You should test her,” Ash says, nodding at me and stirring me from my ruminations.

“Already?” Noah shoots a look from Ash to Seb. “Wouldn’t that be a bad sign?”

“Maybe.” Ash rubs his fingers absently over his jaw. “She’s really flushed.”

My heart skips a beat. Perhaps it wasn’t a weird aphrodisiac in that vial, after all. Perhaps they have different diseases here, ones that people from the dome are susceptible to. I’m not exactly enjoying my current life experiences, but I’m also not ready to die. “I don’t feel very well,” I admit.

Seb turns to me, brows knitting together as he brushes his knuckle over my cheek.

I’m supremely conscious that the other two are sitting watching him do this.

“You do look a little flushed.” His lips tug up. “But it might just be from watching the fight.”

I turn back to my plate. The weird moments of normality in between the madness screw with me. My hunger has vanished, and I push the tray aside.

“I’ll get her tested,” Seb says.

I’m taken back to that medical room.

“Hop on up.” He pats the examination bed.

I sit, my eyes going everywhere as I try not to freak out. If he reaches for another vial without giving me a straight answer on what it is, I’m going to make a bolt for the door, whatever the cost.

He doesn’t. Instead, he takes a small device out of a drawer, not dissimilar to the one they used on the shuttle. He holds out his other hand containing a tiny black cube. “This goes against the tip of your finger. You will feel a small prick. It will take some blood, which the scanner will read. It only takes a few seconds, and we can make sure nothing untoward is going on.”

I hold out my finger. He is explaining what he’s doing, and I appreciate it. I feel the pinch before he slots it into the scanner.

“Headache?”

I nod.

“Do you want something for it?”

I shake my head vigorously.

He smiles. “Well, I was going to offer you some ibuprofen, but if you don’t want any, that’s?—”

“You have ibuprofen?” I sound doubtful.

“Sure we do.” He reaches into a drawer, pulls out a thin strip of tablets, and hands them to me. “Keep them. Take a couple as you need them.”

There are only four tablets. I couldn’t do much damage even if I took them all at once. The word IBUPROFEN is written diagonally over the back, partially chopped off by the way manufacturing cut the strip, along with the dose. They look legitimate. He’s not forcing me to take them. He’s not threatening to strap me down. I tuck them in my pocket as he looks at the little readout. And then back at me.

“You’re clear,” he says. “No sign of anything. How do you feel besides the headache?”

I look away—I might as well announce that I’m about to lie. “Mostly the headache. I think it’s just shock.”

“You want something stronger?” He points toward my pocket where I tucked the ibuprofen.

No; hell, no; definitely not. “No, thank you.”

He grins like he can see right through me. “And nothing else is happening. No other symptoms?”

“No, it’s mostly a headache. I can’t stop shaking. I feel unsettled,” —the unsettled part piques his interest— “but I think that’s normal, isn’t it? I mean, given what’s happening…” I trail off. There is something deeply wrong about discussing the mental and physical effects of captivity with your captor.

“I guess so.”

He doesn’t sound convinced.

Whydoesn’t he sound convinced?

I swallow. I’m waiting for him to tell me he’s not going to fuck me today because Ash hasn’t given him permission to, and what Ash says goes.

He doesn’t. He helps me down from the table.

“We’ve got a long day of riding ahead of us.” The abrupt version of Seb is back.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re suddenly curious now?”

I nod, my belly turning over. I’ve omitted a lot of symptoms. Was that reckless of me? I remind myself: he is still my captor, and I’m still the prisoner, the one he will eventually fuck, when the time is right, and Ash says so. So, I’ll have to be at death’s door before I admit my nipples feel hard all the time, and I desperately want to come. “You seem to know a lot about our world and our people, and we know nothing about yours. How is that possible?”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?”

I shake my head. I haven’t figured a damn thing out.

“We’re just one big world. Not even an ‘us and them’… More, the next stage.”

That doesn’t make any sense, but it does turn my thoughts back to what Derek said: something about them being superior.

“I used to play ice hockey.”

I frown. “You did? When?”

“A few years ago now. A pro. I was good at it, too, about to hit my peak. It feels like a different world now, and I guess, in a lot of ways, it is. You think we’re a different country and different people, but the truth is we’re not. Balance. It’s all about balance, isn’t it? And control. We’re all somebody’s minion, no matter what side of the fence we’re on. You said you never read about us and didn’t know what to expect. But, even if you had, all you’d have found was the propaganda the government wants you to know.”

“You lived in a dome,” I say slowly. I thought they only took women. “Did you read the propaganda?”

“Yeah, I did. Before.”

“Before what?”

“Before everything changed.”

I’m still reeling from this conversation as he takes me outside where horses are waiting and people are readying to move out.