Chapter 11

LEONA

I stand behind the bar, surveying my domain as regulars filter through the door. Angelo guards the entrance this evening, as he does most nights, listening for the secret knock before he admits a patron. I peer toward the entrance as a tall man enters, my heart skipping a beat as my mind briefly plays tricks on me and I think I see purple eyes and dark, textured alien skin. But I blink and the image is gone. It's just another human man. It's not a Darrvason. It's not Zahhn. I sigh with disappointment.

It's been over two weeks since my brief stint in the brig and the embarrassing medical exam performed by Doctor Zahhn, but I still find myself looking for him, half convinced he might walk through the door and lay claim to me.

It doesn't help that there are about two dozen Darrvason males currently roaming the Jansonna . Engineers who are stationed here to help make repairs to the worldship. They boarded the Jansonna on the day the first wave of thirty human women were handed over to the aliens. Every day as I'm walking to and from work in the mess hall, I glimpse the aliens as they go about their business. And when I first see one of the huge males, there's always a split second during which I'm convinced it's Zahhn.

I also still feel a strong pull to the Darrvason fleet, though strangely, my focus has shifted to one of the smaller ships lately, a vessel I recently learned is called the Rorrsa . Clearly, I'm losing my mind.

I blink and a familiar pair of purple eyes flashes in my vision. Not only have the dreams gotten worse since my encounter with Zahhn, but I sometimes glimpse remnants of those dreams during the waking hours. My blood heats as I recall every detail of the shameful examination, from the moment he ordered me to strip off my clothing, to the moment he rubbed me to my first climax, to the moment he shoved two fingers into my bottom hole while the largest phallus was still submerged in my pussy.

The hum of conversation in the bar fades into the background as I become further lost in thoughts of the handsome alien doctor. His touch electrified my senses, causing me to soar through the stars. His deep voice vibrated through me, jolting my insides as I ached and throbbed for relief.

His aura of power also made me melt. Made me feel submissive.

The sharp commands he issued prompted me to obey. Well, most of the time. I was so scandalized when he wanted to shove the metallic phallus in my mouth, however, that I'd defied him and provoked his wrath. I flush as I recall the spanking he'd given me, a punishment that had left my bottom sore for days. I'd been helpless to escape the smacks as he held my legs high in the air and swatted my exposed buttocks. And the wetness between my thighs… well, my excitement only grew as he thrashed me, much to my astonishment and shame.

Arousal. For the first time in my life, I experienced arousal. Even before he'd administered a hypospray to counteract the effects of the hormone suppressants, I'd found myself aching for his touch. Being in the authoritative alien male's presence had rendered me wanton and breathless. I couldn't help it. Even now as I think about him, I feel myself growing wet and achy between my thighs.

I cast a quick glance around the bar, fearful that someone will notice I'm entertaining forbidden thoughts. It shouldn't matter in Leona's Speakeasy, as this is a laid-back place where rebellious activity sometimes occurs, but I still fear someone will notice I'm flushed and aroused. I turn around briefly to face the wall of liquor, then snatch my water bottle and gulp down the last of my daily water ration, needing to cool my temperature. Feverish. Whenever I think about Zahhn, I become so feverish and unsettled, that I don't know how to handle it.

If I were alone in my bedroom, perhaps I would attempt to caress myself, but I can't very well do that in public. Maybe later tonight. Ever since my encounter with Zahhn, I've been tempted to try self-pleasure. Perhaps a climax will alleviate my aching discomfort and help banish my constant thoughts of Zahhn. I can only hope.

Voices near the entrance catch my attention, and I turn to see Angelo speaking with Jenny, a young patron who frequents the speakeasy and often provides entertainment in exchange for free drinks. She plays the keyboard and has an amazing singing voice, and my spirits brighten as I watch her smiling at Angelo. Given recent events, I hope she's okay. She hasn't visited the bar in about two weeks. Not since the handover of the first thirty women. Her older sister, Ellie, was among the women who were given to the Darrvasons. I imagine Jenny's been grieving the loss of her sister and spending more time with her mother in recent days.

To make matters more complicated, Jenny happens to be Captain Warren's niece, as well as a descendant of Founders. But she's not a snitch, and even though most of my patrons are non-Founders, I welcome her all the same.

As she looks in my direction, I start drying a bin of freshly washed glasses, needing something to keep my hands busy. I force a bright smile as Jenny heads my way. The last thing I want to do is look at her with pity. I doubt she would appreciate it very much. People come to the speakeasy to have fun and forget whatever troubles are plaguing them, if only for one night.

"Look what the cat dragged in," I say.

"Lovely to see you too." She slides onto a stool at the bar. "Any requests for tonight?"

"Sing whatever your heart desires." I flash another smile. "It's good to see you again, kid."

She nods and glances at the stage with a look of longing, then she slips off the stool. I continue drying glasses as she makes her way to the stage. Normal, I muse. This feels somewhat normal. It's a regular night, and though the speakeasy isn't crowded, there are enough patrons here to keep me busy. Plus, a performance from Jenny is always appreciated. She never fails to lighten the mood and bring the crowd together with one of her songs.

As she takes her place behind the keyboard, the murmur of conversation halts, and there's a swell of excitement in the air. I exchange a smile with Angelo. Yes, nothing but a normal night, I remind myself again.

But I don't feel normal. I still feel… transformed.

Enlightened.

My encounter with Zahhn has changed me irrevocably, and I fear I'll never return to the person I once was. The person who was completely and blissfully ignorant about fornication and breeding and orgasms.

My gaze sweeps around the bar, and not for the first time I worry that someone might know the truth about what happened to me. Gossip and rumors spread like wildfire on the worldship. If one of the guards who escorted me to the medical bay blabs, everyone on the Jansonna will discover my secret.

Thus far, I haven't admitted to anyone why I missed two days of work in the mess hall and one evening managing the speakeasy. After being released from the brig, the very day after my embarrassing medical exam, I simply told everyone who cared to ask that I'd suffered from food poisoning.

I think of the six women I'd met in the brig. All of them were included in the group of thirty, and guilt ravages me that I only escaped that fate due to my age. I'm not much for praying, but I've sent a few beseeching requests to whatever higher power might be listening for their wellbeing. I hope they aren't suffering terribly at the hands of their Darrvason masters.

Jenny starts playing the keyboard, a catchy tune I recognize as a favorite among the bar's patrons, and her beautiful voice soon echoes off the walls. The song is an ancient rock ‘n' roll piece from Earth, and the theme happens to be fighting back against government control.

Well, this is an illegal bar, so the song is nothing if not fitting. Most of the songs Jenny sings are about rebellion, and as I watch her perform, I can't help but wonder if she's involved with any rebel groups.

She clearly despises Captain Warren—I've heard her talk shit about him before—and the captain obviously holds no love for his late brother's widow or her two daughters either. Is that why he selected Ellie, his own niece, to be among the group of thirty? Out of hatred or spite?

Well, if Jenny is part of a rebel group, she's a goddamn genius. Because here she is, in an illegal bar, performing a song about fighting government power while the crowd cheers and sings along. One could argue she's trying to incite a rebellion, just like it could be argued my father does when he holds secret "talks" with citizens who are concerned about the decisions made by Captain Warren and his command team. Talks that sometimes coincide with attacks on guards and even riots in the corridors.

I decide if Jenny is a rebel, I don't want to know. The less I know, the better. I think of Commander Hampton and suppress a shiver. I consider myself lucky that the bastard didn't try to interrogate me, though I can't help but worry for my father. The Darrvasons are repairing the extensive damage to the Jansonna , and they're supposedly going to lead us to a habitable planet. My father might not be needed anymore, and someone like Commander Hampton could quietly order his execution.

Suddenly, there's a collective gasp, and people start turning toward the entrance. Jenny's eyes widen. Her voice trails off mid-song, and her fingers go still on the keyboard. My stomach flips as I glance to the door, praying we haven't been set upon by security or morality officers.

I'm only partially relieved by the sight that greets me: A huge Darrvason male stands several feet inside the speakeasy, waving a keycard in Angelo's face as they exchange terse words. And yes, there's a split second where I think it's Doctor Zahhn. But it's not him. I don't know this alien's name, but I've seen him around the ship lately. I don't think he's an engineer, however, since he's usually following Captain Warren and other members of the command team around.

Why is he here?

I notice he keeps looking at the stage. At Jenny, to be precise. They're staring at one another in a way that tells me they aren't strangers.

In the crowd, people are keeping their heads low and whispering amongst themselves, as though trying to obscure their faces from the alien male. No one can flee the bar easily. Not without running past the Darrvason male. I shake away the feeling that we're trapped and all I've worked for is about to come to an abrupt end.

Well, time to find out what the hell's going on. This is my bar, after all, and it's ultimately my responsibility to keep my patrons safe.

I draw in a deep breath, summon an aura of confidence, and sashay over to the entrance where Angelo is still arguing with the Darrvason male. As I approach the door, I notice several patrons leaving their tables to hide behind the bar. I pray I'm able to diffuse the situation quickly and keep everyone protected.

I reach the scene and immediately place a hand on Angelo's arm, hoping to calm his agitation. He has a tendency to be a hothead, and I draw him closer to my side. Meanwhile, I gaze at the tall alien while wearing the politest, most welcoming smile I can muster.

"Greetings and salutations, sir," I say. "I'm Leona and I manage this bar. Who might you be?" I keep my voice level and carefree. If I sound or look scared, I'll appear guilty. We all will. I'm really hoping this Darrvason, whoever he is, doesn't go blabbing to the command team.

The alien growls and casts another glance toward the stage. "I am Officer Brute and I demand entry." He holds up the keycard he'd previously waved in Angelo's face. "I have full security clearance on this vessel, meaning I am permitted to go anywhere I wish." His gaze narrows on me. "Even illegal bars."

Well, he's just confirmed that he's familiar enough with our laws to know this place is an underground establishment. Still, as I stare up at him, I don't allow my smile to falter. "Well, Officer Brute, we are honored by your visit, and I do hope you'll sit down and enjoy a drink." I give him a playful wink.

Unfortunately, Angelo chooses this moment to act like an idiot. He stiffens and takes a menacing step toward the alien. "You need to leave. Now. This establishment serves humans only."

Officer Brute snarls and practically shoves his keycard, which I'm now realizing he must've used to open the door, rather than the secret knock, in Angelo's reddening face. A full-blown argument erupts, during which the alien threatens to rip Angelo's arms and legs off. Wonderful. Each time I attempt to get a word in, the males cut me off and my voice is drowned out by their spatting.

Jenny approaches and shoots Officer Brute a beseeching look. She glances at Angelo, then at me. "It's okay," she tells us. "I know this Darrvason." She grabs the alien's arm and pulls him toward a secluded table. I watch with curiosity as he takes a seat directly beside her.

"What the fuck are you doing? Why are you letting this scum into the bar?" Angelo hisses at me.

I grip his arm and lead him back to his post at the entrance. "We don't have much of a choice, do we? It's best to make him feel welcome and hope he keeps our secret. Promise me you'll behave."

We glare at each other for a few seconds until he finally nods, though he doesn't verbally promise to act cordial. I sigh and head for the bar where I'm quick to grab two large mugs of beer.

I approach the table where Jenny and Officer Brute are sitting. To my shock, the alien is gripping her leg underneath the table, and they appear engrossed in a tense exchange of words. Yes, clearly, they're well acquainted.

As I get closer, I glimpse a spark of heated possessiveness in the Darrvason's eyes. It reminds me of the way Zahhn looked at me during the examination, and I experience a sudden urge to depart the speakeasy to seek out an alcove with a viewscreen that faces the alien fleet. It's all I can do to keep my feet moving forward.

Then the oddest thing happens. Lee-oon-ahh . I swear I hear the high-handed doctor uttering my name. I also feel the vibration of his voice, yet when I glance around, he's nowhere to be seen. I concentrate on breathing steadily and putting one foot in front of the other, but it's honestly a challenge to remain upright. Because my entire body is trembling, and my knees feel abruptly weak.

I tell myself it's just my imagination getting the best of me, and the weird auditory hallucination was simply brought on by the sudden arrival of a huge Darrvason male who's similar in appearance to Zahhn, though noticeably younger.

As I attempt to ward off the strange occurrence, I force another polite smile and start humming a cheerful tune, hoping my relaxed demeanor will help ease the tension in the speakeasy.

I place the drinks on the table in front of Jenny and Officer Brute. "Compliments of the house." I wink, spin on my heel, and return to the bar.

Gradually, people start to look up from their drinks and the steady hum of conversation resumes. I exhale with relief, and I go back to drying the glasses, though I keep one eye on Jenny and her alien companion. When Jenny downs her beer and gestures for me to bring another, I'm quick to do so.

After a few minutes, Jenny and Officer Brute depart the speakeasy, and he appears to be escorting her out. My worry grows as I watch them leave. Does she have a choice? Has the alien taken a liking to her? It seems the most plausible explanation, and my heart goes out to her. Considering what happened to her sister, she's probably terrified right now.

In the days since my release from the brig, rumors about the Darrvasons have continued to swirl. Not all the worldship's security officers are loyal to the command team, and those who aren't like to talk. Apparently, the aliens are monogamous and claim one female each. It's also said that they mate for life and are quite possessive of their women.

Lee-oon-ahh.

Good little female.

I flush and start trembling as I hear it again. I place a hand to my head and rub my temple, but it doesn't make the rumble of Zahhn's voice fade. Not in the slightest.

What is happening?