Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

VYA

Naked and strapped to the cool, padded table, I waited for what would come next. It didn't take eyesight to figure out that I was in some kind of alien lab. The beeping and clicking gave that away, as did the tinny, robotic voice that seemed to respond to my captor's growls.

My resolve to be a cooperative captive was melting by the second. Why was I naked? What were they going to do to me now? I wasn't sure how much more I could endure. My head and stomach still hurt from being carried upside down, and I couldn't seem to stop shaking even though I was exhausted.

The thing beside me growled again. I wished it would just do whatever it planned to do already.

As if it read my thoughts, it touched my fist. I jumped. Its fingers caressed mine and began to gently pry them loose. I could think of only one reason it would do that. If its dick was snakeish like the other things I'd been washing for a month, the thin control I had would snap, and I wasn't sure what I'd do. Scream. Cry. Freeze. Probably all three.

Caught up in my tsunami of fear, I was unprepared for the press of his hand to mine.

My breath caught, and my tears fell faster. What did that mean?

I heard more rumbles and growls; then the ship shook violently. Without the straps holding me to the table, I would have fallen off. The thing's warm hand remained anchored to mine, and I noted how the tops of my fingers barely reached the bottoms of his. I was too afraid to move my hand around to see if he had five digits like me.

The shaking stopped as quickly as it had started, and the straps slithered off my skin. Its hand disappeared for a moment before settling on my arm and helping me off the table. Weak and my head aching, I struggled to stay upright.

My captor didn't seem to notice as it mercilessly moved me a few more steps. Then it released me. I stayed where I was and listened to a rasp of sound behind me. A second later, jets soaked me from every direction.

I sputtered and gasped but didn't shield myself. Instead, I lifted my arms and spread my legs. Although I'd bathed aliens for endless days, I hadn't cleaned myself.

Embracing the stinging spray, I washed everything, even as I feared why it wanted me clean.

By the time the jets turned off, I was thoroughly scrubbed and smelled marginally better. A gust of air had me closing my eyes. Warmth wrapped around me, and behind my eyelids, I saw bursts of bright light. When it finished flashing, I was dry.

The rasp of noise behind me repeated. Then, large fingers caught mine. My captor led me back to the table and lifted me with scary ease. Guessing what it wanted, I lay back on the surface once more.

I couldn't stop shaking. I was clean, dry, warm, and completely naked on a table. I kept waiting for that large hand to grab a thigh and pry my legs open. Instead, my new captor growled again. Several beeps and clicking followed. I listened to that tinny, robotic voice that sounded like it was underwater.

I wasn't expecting the searing pain in my thigh or upper arm.

A whimper escaped me before I could stop it. Fingers wiped at the new trail of tears over my cheeks as my new captor growled a long low note. The light touch helped distract me from the second round of stinging pain so that I didn't cry out. However, I did jump when something covered my eyes. How many of them were there?

As soon as my eyes were covered, the one stroking my cheek plucked me off the table. Instead of tossing me over its shoulder, it carried me in its arms.

I didn't know where it was taking me next and wasn't sure I cared. The headache and exhaustion I'd been living with since that first day in the bathing house intensified. As did all my various injuries from my beatings.

A whimper escaped me when my stomach gave an ominous gurgle, and I swallowed hard against the saliva pooling in my mouth.

It was no use.

Turning my head away from whatever carried me, I vomited forcefully. The thing carrying me paused then pivoted, which caused another upheaval. The creature slipped, and we almost went down. That didn't stop my gut-wrenching heaving, though.

I cried and panted for air as I puked my guts out all the way to the shower, where it left me again. The water felt good, the only comfort I had against the increasing intensity of my heaving.

Shaking worse than before, I lost the fight to stay upright. My knees buckled, and I slowly slid down the wall to the grate on the floor. Bracing my hands on the surface, I kept the rest of myself out of whatever I was heaving up.

I had no capacity for embarrassment when my gut cramped much lower and started emptying itself. Only pain. It felt like my insides were being ripped out.

Something wiggled over my fingers, which made me cry harder and lean back against the wall. After that, though, my stomach settled.

Wrung out, I tilted my head back and let the jets rinse my face.

I barely heard the rasp of the door opening over the sound of the spray. But I knew I was no longer alone when it lifted me into its arms. Everything hurt so much.

It ran its large hand over my face and washed away all signs of my sickness. Once it finished, it held me while the lights flickered and the air dried me. Then it carried me back to the table where something changed my eye bandages again. The one that had carried me stroked its fingers over my arm and wiped away the tears that now fell in earnest.

"I want to go home," I whispered brokenly.

I wanted to be grateful that I was no longer in the bathhouse, but I wasn't yet sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. And I hurt so much I wasn't even sure if I cared anymore.

When it picked me up again and pressed me to its chest, I didn't fight it. I had no resistance left in me.

It carried me down the hall again, this time without the echoing steps. My captor paused, and I heard another rasp of sound. Warmer air surrounded us. Then he bent forward, and I prayed it wasn't to set me on another exam table.

Pillowy softness cushioned my butt and back. His arms slid out from under me. I cried harder.

"Please don't," I choked out.

I heard that rasp again, then nothing. It was impossible to hear over the sound of my own tears, so I forced myself to stop and listen. I didn't hear any other sound. Unsure if I was alone, I stayed where I was. Naked on an alien's bed.

My stomach settled as the minutes slipped by and exhaustion tugged at me. I sniffled and let my fingers wander the bed. It was soft and smooth. Big too.

"Hello?" I called softly.

Nothing answered. I curled in a ball and shook.

It didn't pay to run. I couldn't see and had no idea where I was. I could guess, though. The air here was cool and dry and had a weird metallic taste to it. That, in addition to the turbulent shaking when I'd been strapped to the table, made me think we were on a spaceship.

Another shudder ran through me.

I wanted to freak out. Wailing. Screaming. Beating on walls. But I continued to focus on breathing, knowing that I needed to be smarter.

Whoever had me now hadn't been overly upset by my fairly quiet sobs. Or my barfing. But patience only lasted so long with a captive that kept acting out. What happened to Mila was proof of that.

Rest. That was what I needed to do until it came back.

Gingerly, I sat up and felt around the bed for a blanket. I found something on a shelf above the bed and tugged it down to cover me. I closed my eyes and curled back into a ball.

The press of fingers against my bruised hip woke me. I rolled onto my back before my head cleared enough to remember why I shouldn't have moved at all. When I did, I winced and waited for some form of reprimand.

Instead of a shock or a beating, the fingers returned to my hip. It was one of the many extra painful spots I possessed. If I could see, I had no doubt I'd find ugly bruises covering every inch of my skin. However, the fingers didn't dig in to hurt me. Just the opposite. They moved with feather-light strokes, which was infinitely more terrifying.

My breathing hitched, and I tried to find a quiet corner of my mind to hide away from what was about to happen. But those fingers didn't stray from my hip. Round and round they moved, leaving a cooling tingle in their wake.

When the pain in that spot eased, I almost sobbed with relief. Its fingers left me and returned to a new spot to repeat the process. My hip cooled further, and I understood what it was doing.

It was helping me.

"Thank you," I whispered.

It growled in response and wiped the tears from my cheek before continuing to rub something into every spot that hurt. The pain faded away, and I sighed. I didn't flinch when it soothed over my sore breasts or skimmed the hair between my legs. It was gentle, and I told myself that was all that mattered.

When it finished with the front, it nudged me until I rolled over. Another sigh escaped me when it gave my backside as much care as it had the front.

Warm and feeling safer than I had in a long time, I fell asleep.