Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

VYA

He plucked the bowl from my hands.

"That was so good," I said as if licking the bowl hadn't been confirmation enough for him.

When he sat me on the chair by myself, I wondered what he would do next until I heard the same sequence of beeps as before. Even though I knew he hadn't eaten, my first thoughts were of seconds for myself.

"Please let that mean you're making more for me," I said under my breath.

He answered my prayers when he sat me on his lap again and handed me a spoon. I used my free hand to find the bowl and stuck my finger in the food just to make sure it wasn't the wiggling stuff again.

Eating blind was hard work without his guiding hand. I dribbled on my lap and chest. Although I tried to clean up where I dropped stuff, mostly to make sure I ate every drop, it wasn't easy to find once it fell.

I felt a little sticky when I finished and knew it was true when my keeper didn't pick me up again. Instead, he set his hands on my shoulders and gently steered me forward.

My first few steps were hesitant. He said something in a low and unrushed tone and smoothed one hand over my arm. It definitely felt like a pet. And reassurance.

Keeping my hands out in front of me, I carefully walked in the direction he wanted. I heard a metallic rasp in front of me. Three steps later, he stopped me and turned me ninety degrees to the left. Twelve steps, then a right turn. Stop. Another metallic rasp. Then three more steps.

He stopped me with a pat on my shoulder, which I took as a "Good job, now stay" command.

The sound of rustling behind me was followed by that metallic rasp I now associated with a door opening or closing.

A ball of something hit me in the back again and again, but not in the same spot. Thankfully, whatever he was throwing at me didn't hurt, unlike the stinging shots to my arms and legs. So I stood still and waited as he slowly worked his way from the top of my back and down each leg.

When it stopped, he placed his big hands on my back and started rubbing brisk circles over my skin. I frowned. It felt like he was scrubbing me. Hadn't that horrible vomit fest while being doused with jets of liquid been a shower? And why my back? I'd spilled oatmeal on my front.

While I puzzled out what was happening, his hands continued down my spine and molded over my butt. When one slippery hand slid between my cheeks, I jerked forward. A hand clamped down on my shoulder—again, not painfully—and kept me in place as he continued washing me from top to bottom.

Finished with the back, he turned me around. I got hit in the chin with the cleanser, then breasts, and right between the legs before it continued downward.

My skin heated with embarrassment, and I started rubbing the cleanser onto my chest, hoping to avoid his help. When he didn't tug my hands away, I breathed a sigh of relief and kept going.

The cleanser didn't have a strong smell and didn't foam up. It felt more like a slippery lotion. But it removed the lingering stickiness from my chest and stomach.

When I got to my downstairs, where he'd left a healthy amount, I paused, unsure what level of washing would be good enough.

He took my matters into his own hands. The feel of his fingers brushing over my folds shocked me enough that I grabbed his wrist.

He stilled.

I stilled.

My heart started racing. I was stupid. So stupid. Now what would he do?

For a few tormented seconds, we stayed locked like that. Me holding his wrist. Him fingertips-deep in my lady bits. The pad of one digit was close to my entrance.

It won't be that bad, I told myself. Just relax as much as you can so it doesn't hurt worse.

Swallowing hard and shaking even harder, I released him.

Tears trailed unchecked down my cheeks from behind my bandages as his fingers started moving again, slowly rubbing the cleanser into my folds. Then he moved on, down my leg without invading my entrance.

A shaky sob of relief escaped me.

He said a few words and patted my leg without stopping his work.

Right. Everything's okay. Just washing your new pet. Nothing to it , I thought.

After all, his care was far better than what the other creatures had shown me.

So far .

And it was that lingering worry about his purpose that tore through my hope. He might seem kind, but according to the fey who'd negotiated with our planet's leaders, most species in space were sorely lacking breedable women. That's what aliens wanted us for. That's what those plated aliens had finally wanted from Mila.

I didn't want to be a breedable female.

Rather than dwelling on what I couldn't control, I wiped at the moisture on my chin and thoroughly washed my face while he finished with my feet.

I noticed how the air was getting warmer and more humid. The association between the bathhouse and this was immediate. The rasp of my panting breath filled my ears. I started to shake, and my head swam.

My new owner nudged me a few steps then pulled me crossways onto his lap. I sobbed even as I tried to stop. He pulled me close to his chest, my skin easily sliding over his legs. I tensed, but didn't feel the press of an insistent—or worse, wiggling—appendage against my hip. At least, not that I could tell.

He said something I didn't understand then started petting my arm in long, slow strokes.

Long minutes passed. The room grew warmer. Wetter. But he did nothing else. Just held me and petted me.

The abject panic slowly faded, and my sobbing calmed to hitched breathing. The heat soothed my abused body, and I felt myself relaxing.

"Please don't hurt me," I whispered.

He said something and shifted his petting from my arm to my head. The feel of his fingers running through my hair soothed me. Sighing, I gave in and relaxed against his massive chest.

The steam seemed to melt every ounce of tension from me. Spent from the adrenaline spike, I didn't react when his hand returned to my arm. He smoothed over it again and again, this time like he was rubbing in lotion. Then he gently wiped my face.

Trying to make up for my bad behavior, I tipped my head up so he could see what he was doing.

His fingers brushed briefly over my lips.

A beep sounded, and he lifted me in his arms as he stood. Although I couldn't see them, I guessed the lights were blinking like the last time I'd showered and held still. Eventually, my skin dried, and he set me on my feet.

He said something more, patted my shoulder, and petted my head, almost like he was praising me for taking such a good bath.

Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl? Vya's a good girl! Yes, you are, I thought to myself.

Hey, whatever it took not to suffer. That's where my bar was set these days.

He stopped touching me, and I listened to a rustle of sound from behind me, like material rubbing against material, then his touch returned. He ran his hand down my back and butt, then over my arms.

It almost felt like he was double-checking that I was dry and clean. I really wished I could talk to him and let him know that showering wasn't that big of a deal for a human. And that I could manage it solo.

He set his hand on my back, a signal that I was starting to recognize meant I was about to get a ride. Fed, clean, and feeling ridiculously mellow, I willingly leaned into his chest as he picked me up again. A nap would have been welcome. However, we didn't return to the room with the bed.

He strode forward more than the twelve steps it'd taken to get from the kitchen to the shower before I heard the familiar rasp of a door opening. He took a few more steps, then sat and settled me onto his lap once more.

This time, it didn't send an immediate jolt of panic through me.

I sighed, relaxed into his hold, and hoped that my pet suspicion was right. I also hoped I wasn't permanently blind because I needed to figure out a way to communicate with him so I could get home again. At the very least, I'd like to know if he had another chair I could use. All this lap-sitting might be fine if he actually thought me a pet, but I wasn't willing to place bets on that yet.

He didn't seem too focused on the fact that I was naked while he, apparently, got to wear clothes. Maybe he thought he didn't have anything that would fit me due to his size. My fingers drifted up to his chest, feeling the material of his shirt. It covered his arms and opened at the neck. I could have easily worn it like a dress.

His hand covered mine, and he said something while redirecting my hand back to my lap. He patted my arm and ran his fingers over my hair before tucking me closer. I breathed in the scent of his shirt…accidentally at first, then on purpose. It smelled good and, for some reason, reminded me of home.

Snuggling in, I let myself imagine I was in my own bed and safe.