3. Hugo

In case you’re wondering, I did not get the donuts I’d wanted. I did somehow manage to gain a new owner, though. Not that I knew that right away, as I woke up the next morning expecting the worst. I’d slept fitfully, tossing and turning as my inevitable fate taunted me even when I was unconscious.

The world had a funny way of flipping itself upside down when I least expected it.

I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I didn’t know where I stood. Didn’t know what the shark-dude had said, or what was going to happen to me. And I dreaded the meeting I’d no doubt have with The Manager later, and the red, red doors that even now taunted me from the safety of my sleep pod.

I expected the worst.

So imagine my surprise when my alarm went off like usual long after I’d been awake—and nothing seemed amiss.

As I walked down the hallway toward breakfast with the others, everyone kept congratulating me. That should’ve clued me into the fact that something was off. But I was too relieved not to see The Manager to think anything of it.

When I returned to my room after I’d finished eating, it had been emptied of all the belongings I’d managed to collect over my three years on F’ukYuu. Staring at the barren space, my heart began to race.

This is it.

You shouldn’t have let your guard down.

You expected this.

“6934,” The Manager’s nasally voice crackled from behind as he addressed me by the number I’d been assigned. I whipped around, the pit in my stomach growing heavier by the second.

Just breathe.

Just breathe, Hugo.

You can survive anything if you just breathe.

The Manager was waiting in the doorway, his robes dragging on the floor. He held a tentacle out, the slick appendage brushing my bare chest as his eyes narrowed, and I immediately began to tremble.

Maybe they’d taken all my stuff because they were going to give my pod to someone else? Maybe I’d fucked up so bad last night, blubbering all over the VIP guest that they’d decided I wasn’t worth the trouble of keeping?

Before I could further spiral, clothes were shoved into my arms and I stared down at them in shock, confused and more than a little worried. The Manager’s tentacles retreated as quickly as they’d come, but the slick substance they’d left behind made my skin crawl.

“Get dressed,” The Manager said in garbled English. He pointed behind him toward the communal bathroom that those of us in our shared wing used. I stumbled a little when he poked me with his tentacle again to get me moving, but promptly did as I was told.

If I was already in trouble, I refused to get into more trouble just because I wasn’t fast enough.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in more clothing than I’d worn in years, I was escorted by a handful of enforcers into the elevator and down the hundred or so floors to The Manager’s office. I felt more naked in the thigh-length tunic and black leggings than I had when I was in my usual uniform.

This was unfamiliar.

Terrifying, really.

As I pushed through the doors to the office, hope trembled deep, deep inside me. Because of all the times I’d seen slaves taken through the red doors, they’d never been clothed. Already this was an anomaly.

The room was as sterile as it always was, the desk at the back corner full of knick-knacks I didn’t understand, and a handful of tablets that were currently turned off. Even the wallpaper was bland. An odd greenish color that reminded me of being sick. Or maybe—that was because I felt sick right now. Either way, it was unappealing.

I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been in here.

The first had been when I was sold by A&R to the pleasure planet. The second had been the time I got a glowing commendation from four-thumb guy. And most recently, last night—when The Manager had told me to make the shark-alien guy happy.

Hope continued to blossom as I kept my head down and toward my slippers, not wanting to anger the man as he brushed past me to grab one of the abandoned tablets.

I wasn’t sure what I expected when one of the enforcers pushed the door open behind us, but it certainly wasn’t what I got. A sound rumbled from behind me, and against my better judgment, I twisted to see where the sound came from.

Bubblegum-dick dude was back—standing in the open doorway, his eyes on mine. It felt just like it had the night before. That same magnetic pull as pale blue irises swirled in the overhead light and The Manager made a curious sound from his place beside his desk.

Shark-man said something in a low guttural tone. His own language, probably. I’d never heard anything like it. Like gargling rocks, it was rough and primal—though very obviously words. The Manager seemed to understand well enough because he made another sound, more annoyed this time, and made his way toward us. I pressed back against the wall to get out of the way as he pushed something into shark-dude’s hands, before side-stepping his massive body and heading back out into the lobby.

When the door shut again, the room was quiet.

Shark-guy cupped the things he held gingerly, before turning his palms toward me so that I could see what was inside them. Translator headsets. Two of them.

I was confused, to say the least.

But curious too, as I gingerly reached out to take one. In sync, we pulled them on, the soft whir of the overhead fan the only sound in the room. For such a big dude, he sure was quiet.

Why the hell did he come back?

Why didn’t he tell on me?

He should’ve.

Pink-dude moved deeper into the room, far away from me. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or sad about the distance as he stood stock-still, his arms behind his back. It gave me a moment to admire him as I decided if I wanted to be the first to break the silence.

He was wearing the same pants he’d had on the night before and a sash that looked weirdly…formal? Like he’d gotten dressed up for this. Though, that didn’t make sense. Why the hell would he dress fancy to come here of all places? To see me of all people?

More than likely I was simply an errand on his very important list.

Maybe he was here to admonish me in person?

Though…the longer we stood in silence the less likely that seemed.

Shark-guy’s broad back filled up what felt like half the room as he turned around to face me fully, those slate-blue eyes flashing with emotion I couldn’t understand. His spots turned pink again. Then gray. Then pink.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, oddly naked beneath his gaze despite the clothing I wore.

“Hi?” I tried, annoyed when my body began to shake all on its own.

He cocked his head at me, what looked to be a smile gracing his not-lips. It was kinda menacing-looking, if I’m being honest. Which was…genuinely unavoidable considering how many fucking teeth he had. I’d seen Jaws . I couldn’t help but replay that scene with the shark chomping its way through the ship over and over again as he spoke.

“Ro-aarhk.” The sound was guttural and deep as he patted his chest, waiting patiently for me to reply.

Was that?…oh. That was his name.

“Oh.” I blinked. “We’re doing the Tarzan thing.” I shook my head to clear it and slapped a hand against my own chest, because I didn’t want to get chomped if I was accidentally rude. Maybe the chest-tap thing was customary?

“Hugo.”

“Huu-goh?” Roark tried my name out carefully. He spoke…weird. In the light of day it was even more obvious. He was cultured, despite sounding like he was gargling nails. Kinda like a posh lord or something. Which…tracked, considering what I’d been expected to do for him, and the room I’d been given to service him in the night before.

“Hugo,” I annunciated, softening the vowels. I pointed at him. “And you’re Roar-k?”

“Ro-aarhk,” he corrected me.

“Roark,” I repeated. He beamed, if you could call a long line of razor-sharp teeth flashing at me, beaming. This smile was no less intimidating than any of his other expressions.

“Cool.” I beamed right back at him. I was pretty much an alien expert now. Which was awesome. I would’ve shit my pants back home if I’d found someone like Roark while I was studying biology at Harvard. That was just a pipe dream though. As it was, his little smile and our Disney moment were pretty cool, regardless.

“Kewl,” Roark repeated, sounding out the word carefully. “Huu-goh Kewl.”

Oh shit.

Now he thought that was my last name.

Where had we gotten this twisted?

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, no. Cool means good—” His smile shifted into a frown, making it obvious I’d confused him. “It’s just something humans say when we—you know what? Never mind.” Wasn’t like I had a huge attachment to my real last name anyway. “Hugo Cool. Yep. That’s me. What about you?”

Great. This was super great. The greatest.

“Roark, Captain of The Dreamer.”

A captain.

Huh.

So not a lord then.

That explained the way he stood all military seriousness. And how he was kinda…uptight? Not that I thought all captains were. I just…figured you had to be kinda a serious guy to have that job and travel all the way here. F’ukYuu was kinda far off the grid, as far as I understood.

“Do you want to stay here, Huu-goh?” Roark asked. I didn’t have to think to reply, my head shaking automatically before my mouth had time to form words.

Roark studied me for a beat before nodding.

The door pushed open behind us and suddenly—everything changed. The warm mood that had begun to build turned icy cold. I kept my back to the wall as The Manager’s eyes gleamed. He eyed both of us before he crossed the space and took a seat at the desk.

“Have you made your choice?” The Manager asked, his voice rough as usual.

Roark nodded.

And just like that, they both went into business mode. I was left reeling as the tablet was exchanged between the two of them, murmurs of payments and relocation bouncing around inside my head.

It felt like a fever dream.

To be sold and exchanged like cattle.

By my new alien buddy.

But there was no denying that was exactly what had just happened.

I wasn’t sure if I’d just traded in one evil for another—but…I got the feeling I hadn’t. Roark was gentle with me. He had been since last night. And there was something about the way he looked at me that made me feel…

It made me feel…

God, I didn’t even have words.

It seemed stupid and silly to think that someone who wasn’t even my own species could make me feel anything real at all. But he did. I was in a daze as we gave our translators back and were escorted out of the building. All of my things were packed into a single solitary suitcase, already waiting by the door.

It looked tiny and sad as Roark grabbed it, carrying it easily down the steps. He didn’t touch me again, but his gaze was always on my face as we stepped into the street. Like he was trying to get a read on my feelings, even though my expressions had to be as foreign to him as his were to me.

It was weird to be out here.

This was the same street I’d squinted at through foggy glass for three years, but never actually seen .

I wish I could say that it was a magical moment—that F’ukYuu was wonderful and bright and amazing. But…it wasn’t.

The street wasn’t…very pretty.

Dirty and littered with trash.

But it was new, and that was enough to excite me despite the haze I’d fallen into since Roark had purchased me.

I ogled the weirdly rounded buildings and the glass windows I’d occupied for years, a sick curl in my gut when I realized that dancers already populated the booths. They couldn’t see me. Not really, but I gaped anyway as we paused at the base of the steps and I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened.

I was still shocked enough that I barely noticed that we weren’t alone. A large baby-blue shark alien—similar in looks to Roark—took my suitcase from him. Without the translators on I couldn’t understand what they said to each other. Just more growly-growling-growl sounds. Blue dude held my things gingerly in one of his massive hands.

I felt like a kindergartner getting escorted home from school.

It sucked honestly, but I understood why we couldn’t bring the translators with us. They were tied to this location—and even if they hadn’t been, the headsets didn’t work in space, only the permanent implants worked while space-borne.

Touching me for the first time since last night, Roark laid one impossibly large hand on the small of my back. It stuck a little, but it was warm, and I was grateful for how gently he urged me forward. Without that touch, I wasn’t sure I would’ve been able to get my feet to move.

My world had just become a whole lot larger.

And while that was endlessly exciting—and I couldn’t wait to see new things, and explore a universe I hadn’t even known existed—the part of me that had always been small and frightened was grateful that I wasn’t alone.

That I was with someone bigger than I was.

Someone with more claws and teeth.

Someone who no one would dare mess with.

Roark continued to gingerly push me forward as we headed down the busy street. He lent me strength as my eyes wandered, the sky above vast and inky black despite it being daytime. Transport shuttles—at least, that’s what I assumed they were, zoomed back and forth, barely blips on the horizon.

Shops and stalls selling goods and food lined the street that led from the pleasure district toward the port. I could see the spaceships from here. Some large enough they should’ve been planets of their own.

The scent of fried food—even if it was different than the food back home—made my stomach gurgle.

Roark frowned, eyes narrowing down at me at the same time I spotted a fucking donut shop. Donuts. Just like I’d wanted! I jerked toward it automatically, curious to see if they were the same kind I’d received for good behavior at work.

For a single terrifying moment Roark’s hand left the surface of my back. I’d moved too fast. And the tether I felt fell away. Quickly, I wiggled back into place, fully expecting punishment. What if he thought I’d been trying to run?

I hadn’t.

Fuck.

What had I just?—

“Hungr-ee?” Roark asked before I could spiral. I startled, surprised by the butchered English on his tongue. I hadn’t noticed before but he had a tablet in his hand. I squinted at it, trying to read the unfamiliar squiggles.

He was obviously reading from it.

Was it an English guide? That thing had to have cost a fortune if that was the case. From what I could tell huu-mans were new to this side of the galaxy. I was surprised something like that could exist at all—if that’s what it was.

“Hungry,” I echoed. My stomach growled again like it wanted to emphasize my point, and I eyed the donuts hopefully. I knew there was no way he was going to buy me one. They were precious . Rewards for good behavior. Not for guys who got excited and leapt into the stree—oh.

My back felt cold as Roark moved around me toward the booth, leaving me in the capable hands of his friend. The blue shark smiled down at me, but it didn’t help soothe my unease now that Roark wasn’t near. Nor did it explain what he was doing?—

Aaaaand he was buying one.

Shit. No way.

I blinked in disbelief as Roark exchanged credits with the vendor, his back as ramrod straight as ever. He looked massive, even next to the other alien—who was easily a foot or two taller than I was. The vendor was a type of alien I’d seen before. They were common here. Green and slightly bulbous, similar to the “little green men” earthlings liked to populate stores with near Area 51. Only these guys had small beady eyes, and jowls that looked oddly like ballsacks hanging from their chins.

Ball chin or not, this dude’s booth smelled like paradise.

And it wasn’t like I was about to discriminate against a good donut.

Blue-shark-friend stood behind my back, guarding me dutifully as I watched Roark purchase not just one, but a whole goddamn box of donuts. A whole box. For a single, uncharitable second I worried that he was about to eat them in front of me. That this would be a power play to show me my place right after I’d made it clear how badly I wanted one.

But that evil little voice faded quickly enough.

Roark had given me no reason to think so uncharitably of him. So I would do my best not to poison this before it had even begun. No one had ever really given me a reason to give them the benefit of the doubt before—but I was the kinda guy who did that anyway. Or at least…tried.

I might’ve drooled a bit when Roark walked back over. Because of the donuts, obviously. Not because of those huge-ass thighs flexing . Okay, yeah. Maybe both. He was hot? I couldn’t help it. When Roark very carefully offered the entire donut box to me, I wavered.

He opened the lid and I eyed the jelly-filled treats like they were traps. It felt too good to be true that he would purchase them for me, simply because I wanted them.

My stomach growled again and Roark gently wiggled the box to entice me.

“Huu-goh hungr-ee,” he repeated in his growly voice.

I reached for a donut, warily, waiting to be admonished.

But I never was.

Not even when I ate the whole box.

The whole entire box.

All on my own.

And Roark watched me the whole time. His expression never wavered but his spots were pink as we stood in the street and I stuffed my face like it’d been years since I’d last eaten. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was proud of himself. When I finished, Roark disposed of the box in the trash receptacle, and his warm hand found its place on the small of my back again.

Nervously, I licked sugar from my fingers. Roark’s hand didn’t move as we continued down the street toward the docks. He’d asked me if I wanted to stay here. I’d said no. But it hadn’t occurred to me till the last of the sweets were cleansed from my fingers, and a giant spaceship—the biggest that was parked—proved to be our end destination, that by choosing not to stay I was choosing to leave.

To leave the only place that was somewhat familiar, even if it was a prison.

I didn’t understand him. Didn’t understand why he’d take me in when we were so different. Why he’d taken the time to research my language enough to feed me. Why he was doing his best not to scare me. Why he had come back for me at all.

Today was…weird.

So fucking weird.

But I figured going with Roark couldn’t be worse than staying here. So, even though I was frightened and confused, I did my best to push those feelings aside. Excitement buzzed beneath the surface of my skin. A promise for newer, brighter things. To learn this world I’d been dropped inside of. To encounter more creatures to fill my journal with, and to explore places I never in my wildest dreams would’ve thought I could visit.

Hope was a tremulous, weak thing.

But it was still hope.

And that wasn’t something I’d had for a long, long time.