Page 45 of Calico Descending

“Wait. Just … wait a minute.”

“One minute of waiting is one minute less I get to be inside of you.”

Another step toward me, and I throw my hand out, as useless as the gesture might be. “I …. I’ve seen Neela. She’s in agony without you. They’re torturing her.”

A flicker of pain dances across his face, and it’s then I realize, during whatever moments he was with her, something inside of him managed to bind with her. As quickly as it appears, though, the look on his face fades back to one of pure lust. “There’s nothing I can do about that. Besides, I never wanted Neela. I wanted you.”

Two more steps, and I’m boxed in, just as when he had me in the observation room a few days ago. Arms pinned to the wall. His large body pressed into mine.

He buries his face into the crook of my neck and inhales. “Ah, fuck. You smell like peaches and pussy. My favorite meal.”

“You raped her. You almost killed her.”

He pulls away from me once more, until his face is in view. “Perhaps you should ask the good doctor about his intentions with Neela.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was ordered not to lay a hand on her. Not to come near her. They wanted to see how she fared through the pain of estrus when not relieved of it.” The corner of his mouth quirks with the slightest smile. “I’m not one to follow orders. Seems I wasn’t fast enough, though, before Legion barged in.” His eyes trail down to my breasts, and he licks his lips. “I would’ve surely relieved her, but it takes a bit more time for me to finish.” Dragging his fingers down my throat and over my collarbone, he studies my eyes, as if gauging the effect of his touch that I’m desperate to ignore. “Two dozen lashes was my punishment for interfering with their little experiment. And she suffered, anyway. I’m no saint. But I would’ve spared her that pain.” When his thumb brushes over my nipple through the fabric, a quiet whimper escapes me that seems to widen his smile. “Just as I’ll spare you yours now.”

“No, don’t do this, Ca--” I abruptly cut myself off to keep from inciting him any more than he is.

“Say my name. I want to hear you say it.”

Shaking my head, I turn away from him, as he snakes his hand down the edge of my body, toward my hips. The ache in my belly turns to something else. Something that makes me want to shrink against the wall and fade away. A surge of wetness rubs against my thighs as I struggle to keep his hands from where I ache the most, exacerbating the shame beating through me. When his fingers slither over the soaked cotton, my back goes as stiff as the wall behind me.

“Oh, look what I found, sweet girl.” He runs his fingers over my panties, tunneling between the lips of my sex, and I shudder. Not from fear or disgust, but something else. Something I wouldn’t dare admit aloud. “I can make you feel better, Calithea. I can take the pain away, and make you feel downright fucking good.” The sound of my name as it rolls off his tongue is wrong. It’s wrong, and it’s right, and I’m too dizzy with desire to decipher between the two.

“No.” The word tumbles from my lips on autopilot, and I’m grateful, because my brain is too caught up in the sensation. “Listen to me,” I whisper, so as not to be heard on the cameras. “They want you to do this. The first Alpha to impregnate me gets sent to the tunnels below.”

He scoffs, snaking his hand down inside my panties, where his fingers skate over my sensitive and swollen flesh. As I arch into him, writhing at his touch, giving him precisely what he wants, his lips stretch with a wicked smile. “What tunnels.”

“Where they store the cure. It’s guarded by primitive Ragers. More violent than the mutations.”

Eyes on me, he tips his head and glances back to where I presume the cameras are hidden in the room.

“Getting me pregnant would give you purpose. It’s what they want. And he chose you first, in case it fails.” I only suspect that’s the case, but the twitch of his eye tells me I might be right.

His eyes stare off in silent contemplation, as if he’s putting the pieces of a messed up puzzle together inside his head. The shift in his jaw accompanies the flare of his nostrils, and he slides his hand out from my pants, shoving his fingers into his mouth. For one brief second, a flash of ecstasy dances across his face, lightening the darkness from before. “Mmmm. Pity, really. I get the feeling fucking you would’ve been incredible.”

Breath seeps out of me on a sigh of relief, and when he turns away from me, I can move easy again.

“Guard!” he calls out, shoulders slumped in disappointment, as he keeps his eyes on me. “Get this bitch out of my cell. Now!”

Seconds tick, before the door clicks open. Medusa doesn’t even bother to look at me as I pass her. Across the hall, I notice the dents in Cadmus’s door. At least three more since I first entered the cell. I’m guessing that’s where they put Valdys.

I don’t know what’s better. To go to him and rope him into this sick game, or to sacrifice myself, end up strapped to a bed, like Neela.

“I can open the door, if you’d like to see him.” There’s a small bit of hesitation in Medusa’s voice, as though she’s resigned herself to the consequences of doing such a thing.

I shake my head. “I need to lie down for a while.”

“Clever girl. Clever. Clever. Clever.” In spite of the smile on his face, the ire is clearly burning a hole through Doctor Ericsson’s patience, evident in the bite of his tone. “Well, we can’t send you off to Titus. He won’t come near you without the blessing of Valdys. Which means, you win. You win, and Valdys will get you all to himself.”

Frowning, I lift my gaze to his. “I win?” Fingers curled around the chair, I shift in a poor attempt to shake off the burgeoning anger and lean forward. “I win? I have the choice of getting impregnated by an Alpha, so you can use him, or get strapped to a gurney in a slow, agonizing death! But I win?”

“There is the alternative of feeding you alive to the Ragers, so you’d do well to mind your tone.”

I fall back into the chair, slumping in defeat. No matter how I spin this game, in the end, Calico wins. Calico always wins. “Why me? Why am I the only one who’s had successful binding?”

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