11. Ivy

Kren's healing skills were astounding. When he rescued me and picked me up earlier from the Prize Pool, I was sure his wrist was broken. But by the time we made love, it was already completely healed.

It worked in other ways too.

He could recover from sex faster than any guy I ever met. Less than five minutes would pass before his stocks were replenished and he could go again. It was tough for me to keep up with him.

We stopped between sessions and nibbled on food he had in the fridge. We drank fresh water and talked all night.

Harper had told me—in excruciating detail—about what it was like doing it with other fighters. Sometimes there were long nights, sometimes short nights. A one-time deal or a long night of escapades depending on where the alien was from. It could be enjoyable or it could be painful.

But in all those tales, not once did she tell me about a time she fell in love. It was a dangerous thing to do, considering my situation. After all, I was there to become a surrogate with Kren's sperm. I was there to give birth to the first in a new generation of his species, a species that had almost gone extinct.

He was filling me with billions of tiny swimmers. If I was going to get pregnant, now was the time.

Then why wasn't I excited that I would be leaving this prison? Why wasn't I glad I would soon head back to Earth and resume my life as an accountant?

Because I would be leaving him behind. Because I wasn't sure I wanted to live that life anymore.

Did I want to stay at the prison and continue working as a "Prize" for fighters?

No.

But I wouldn't mind being Kren's Prize every day. I wouldn't mind seeing him and building a life with him…

I stopped and pulled myself up.

There wasn't going to be a life with him. I was fishing for disaster if I continued down that route.

What if he lost interest in me? Without him, I would get passed from one fighter to another. I would hear the name "Kren" in passing on the lips of an alien and think about the life I could have had back on Earth if I'd just stuck to the plan and become a surrogate. I could have forgotten this whole chapter of my life and relegate it as a nightmare.

But it wasn't a dream. It was happening. And now I was willing to trick him and use him for my own purposes.

Thinking along those lines didn't help me or him or anyone else. I had made a deal with the Supervisor and now I had to stick to it.

I glanced up and noticed a picture on the wall. I turned my head to peer at it closer. It showed a simple green image with thick bushes of trees and long streams of vines lit by a bright sun.

"What's that?" I said.

Kren turned to look at what I was pointing at. When he noticed me peering at the image, he removed it from the wall and slipped it in a drawer.

"Nothing."

It was clearly something.

"It looked like a landscape of somewhere in the countryside," I said. "Did you paint it?"

He suddenly looked very nervous. I imagined him as a little boy who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was a far cry from the fearsome warrior the prison knew so well.

"Maybe," he said.

"Can I see it?"

He hesitated and shook his head.

"It's nothing. It's stupid."

"Let me see it."

I extended my hand to him.

Still, he wouldn't back down.

"Okay," I said, lowering my arm. "I guess you don't want any more blowjobs from me. Or to use my body anymore."

His eyes boggled.

I let the blanket drop so I exposed my nakedness and rubbed my leg with my own foot in a way I knew was provocative.

Kren just stared. He didn't know what to look at first.

"I understand," I said.

Finally, he couldn't take anymore and withdrew the picture from the drawer.

"Here!"

He jumped into bed with me.

I looked the image over as he ran his hands over me. I guess he deserved it for being a "brave" boy.

The image was simple with no clear features or defining attributes. It was not the work of someone used to working with paints, that was for sure.

But when I peered closer, I made out the different layers he'd added to the painting over time.

It might not look much but it'd taken him a long time to put together.

"This is a place you remember?" I said. "Or a place you want to go one day?"

I could understand why someone would want to have an image like this on the wall in such a dull and dismal place. There weren't many windows and even if there were, it wasn't a landscape you dreamed of being in.

Unlike this picture.

"It's a memory I have," he said. "Every year it fades a little more and I find it difficult to remember the details. So, I painted it and hope I'll never forget it."

I was touched and leaned over to kiss him on the lips. Who would have thought the champion fighter would have a soft spot?

"Does this picture look similar to your memory?"

"Not exactly. The colors are almost right. And there are other details I couldn't do. The leaves weren't big like this. They were small and rattled in the wind when it blew. There should be clouds in the sky but these ones aren't right."

"You know, I used to be pretty good at art when I was in school. I could help you draw a better picture if you wanted."

His eyes sparkled.

"You could?"

"If you can get your hands on some paper and paint."

He leaped out of bed and crossed to his wardrobe. He reached into the bottom and lifted out a board with paints and brushes on it. He had all the equipment. He just didn't have the skills to create the image he wanted.

"Would you mind?" he said.

I smiled and put on a baggy T-shirt.

"You just try and stop me. But you're going to have to give me guidance. I can't look into your head and see the image, remember."

We set up the board on the small dining table and leaned it against the wall. I picked up a small piece of charcoal and began sketching on the canvas.

Kren picked up a smaller pad of paper and a piece of charcoal.

"Okay," I said. "First, we need to sketch what the rough image looks like. I'm going to use your painting to draw mine. Then I need you to help me figure out the details. Okay?"

He beamed at me.

"Okay."

While I got to work sketching his image, he doodled on his pad. I let myself become absorbed with the painting. My surroundings slipped away and I was left with the canvas.

It took me back ten years to when I was in art class at high school. I had never been a great painter but I was good.

Once I was done with the rough outline, Kren joined me. He pulled his seat up behind me and sat with his legs on either side, his chin resting on my shoulder, lightly kissing me on my neck as he whispered in my ear.

I was torn between wanting to complete the painting and wanting to straddle him. I would focus on the painting, I told myself. I would focus on it and let myself enjoy little breaks with him, so he could "reward" me for doing him this favor.

"Did the leaves look like this?" I said.

He leaned forward and took my hand in his and helped draw the shape of the leaves. They were strange, long and narrow, with little strands like fuzzy hair sticking out the top.

His arm brushed against mine and I swore I felt crackling electricity between us.

"Like this," he said. "With soft strokes."

I turned my head slightly to one side. I didn't even need to lean closer to him. He was right there, his lips less than an inch from mine. I placed my hand on his bulging crotch. My voice was husky when I spoke.

"Like this?" I said, adding my own soft strokes.

His eyes fastened on mine and his breath tickled my cheek.

"Just like that."

I'd never been able to stick to my own rules, so why start now?

I pressed my lips to his and he thrust his tongue in my mouth. He scooped his arms underneath my knees and across my back. Our lips never left each other as he carried me to the bed and lay me down.

A painter couldn't just work, work, work. She needed to draw her inspiration from somewhere. She needed experience.

His hard body and throbbing cock were where I found mine.

My muse.