7. Claire

CHAPTER 7

CLAIRE

I 'm getting the hell out of here.

Gromnyr's distinctive musk still lingers in his quarters, and I don't like what it does to me. I don't like how it makes my heart race, or my palms sweat, or my stomach flutter.

I don't like how I keep imagining myself on my knees in front of the giant green brute and worshiping every turgid inch of him with my mouth.

That is what I am getting my ass off this ship. The heavy iron door is locked tight, but opening the side-panel is child's play. All I have to do is mess with the wires and it'll shoot open, and then…

We'll see what happens then.

Or I could check out those other doors.

I turn my head to look at them. Two simple, metal doors. I can hear Gromnyr's deep voice in my mind. You'll find out what's there soon enough, pet.

I hate it when he calls me that. Pet . Mostly because a part of me enjoys it. After being a maid, a cook, a cleaner, or simply a frustrated and demanding CLAIRE !! yelled at the top of my dad's lungs, being called ‘pet' is not so bad.

Screw it. Let's check out those rooms. I've got time.

I tip-toe towards them. I could walk normally as there's no one in the room with me, but I tip-toe all the same. Gromnyr warned me not to touch anything, or he was going to punish me. I can only imagine what that punishment would look like.

I push against the first door. It's not locked, and the door swings open to reveal a large and opulent bathroom. The bath is big enough to swim in, and the shower could fit a dozen people. A variety of soaps are lined up in front of the giant, floor-to-ceiling mirror.

I don't know what I expected an orc bathroom to look like, but certainly not this. Not marble flooring and soft lightning and lavender soaps.

I half-expected them to bathe in mud, or the blood of their enemies. The mess hall certainly smelled like that; unwashed orc bodies, sweat and oil and grime.

Not this place. Perhaps there's more to Gromnyr than I thought. Maybe he's not the ruthless killer I imagined he would be.

Or maybe he's just a ruthless killer who likes to smell nice. Don't go trusting him yet, Claire.

Time to check out the second room. This door is not locked either, and when I push it open, my heart jumps into my throat.

I've only read about places like these in steamy novels I keep well-hidden from my nosy brothers. I believe the proper term is a ‘play room'.

The walls are completely black, and lined with an assortment of strange, alien tools. Clamps, whips, paddles, gags, chains.

I have to get out of here!

I whirl my ass around and head for the door outside as my heart hammers in my throat. I yank the side-panel open, grab two random wires, and cross them.

The overhead lights flicker for a brief moment as the locked door springs open. Freedom!