Page 28 of Orri

After we're out of the most heavily trafficked area, he rounds on me, boxing me in against the wall. In an instant, it's like I'm back at his place on Earth all over again. The same reactions. The same fears. The same smells, even. His face has a few days worth of stubble, and a badly healed scar cuts across one cheek, stopping just short of his upper lip. His shoulders and biceps are bare, showing tanned, bulging muscles. He's nothing compared to Orri, but for guys down on Earth...

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" His grimy hand grabs my chin and forcefully turns it so that I'm looking right at him. He's so close now I can smell his rancid breath. My eyes dart past him, looking for any escape route. Any person I can flag down to get me the help I so desperately need. I could duck under his arms, and run like the wind, and...

"This was some stunt you pulled, you know that? But I can forgive you. You're mine, remember? And I'm here to take you home."

I nearly retch at the thought. "Adik..." I hate how weak my voice sounds. But when I'm with him, I'm defaulting back to my old behaviors. When I was with him I felt like a scared, trapped mouse. And even though I know better now, he still terrifies me. Reminds me of a time in my life I tried so hard to leave in the past. "We don't..." I shake my head and swallow around the building bile in my throat. "We don't have to do this. Let's not make a scene. We can go somewhere and talk. We —"

"Oh, we'll be talking all right. I expect you'll havelotsto tell me." He emphasizes the word lots as he takes in my body from head to toe. His gaze makes my skin crawl. There's no way he could know about Orri or Bjornick...right?

"Stupid breeding agency," he mutters under his breath, spitting on the ground next to him. "If you wanted a baby that badly, you shoulda just asked me. You're pathetic. Running away to this glorified whorehouse so some alien asshole can do a pump and dump? You're even more of a slut than I thought. But that's all right." He yanks me closer, grabbing my hair and pulling so I'm looking straight up at him. "You might smell like alien ass right now, but I can change that. And whatever's in here..." He ghosts a hand over my belly, and it takes a moment to register his horrific intentions. "We'll take care ofthat, too."

The thought hits me why Orvox wanted to run the blood tests before I boarded the shuttle. It wasn't just to make sure I was healthy. She wanted to check if I was pregnant. And if I was...

The thought of a new life inside me brings forth a rush of fresh adrenaline, giving me the strength to fight through the panic. Not only for my sake, but for my baby's. I lunge to the side and twist my wrist like Orri showed me, using his momentum against him to break his grip. With a yell, he lets go for only an instant and I use that opening to bring my knee up, hoping to smash his balls as hard as I can.

He's too fast for me, though, and dodges the attack just in time. With a cry he grabs me again, this time even harder. He pulls me to him until I lose my balance and crash into his body, his face right next to my ear in a greasy whisper. "You'll stay quiet and come with me. You already know what happens if you don't listen, sweetheart." I shiver. I hate that name. "Looks like we need to make a little detour before heading back home."

I shiver again, but know better than to try and fight him. I’ll never win on strength alone. I need a plan. And to do that, I’ll need to play along, at least for the time being. So I bow my head, act like a good little omega, and get on the waiting hover bike. As we zoom away from the spaceport and down the roads leading to the wilderness, one thought lodges itself firmly in my heart:

I have to survive.

VENGEANCE

ORRI

Idon’t want to approach Isabella empty-handed. Especially after making such a fool of myself. But I don’t know what will suit her fancy. Nothing seems good enough. Or it seems too trite, too gaudy to make for a proper gift.

Flowers, desserts, jewelry. Nothing catches my eye. It’s customary to present one’s mate with a gift to reveal one’s intentions, but I never got to that point with Zannah. And now, with so much riding on this decision, I’m at a loss.

I am about to turn and leave the market when I hear a faint tinkling sound from one of the booths tucked away in the alley. I can’t put my finger on it at first, but it sounds almost…familiar?

Then I recognize it: it’s one of Isabella’s favorite songs from Earth. She told me about a lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep. She told me how it always calmed her down and made her feel safe. She even played a copy of it for me on the network’s video stream.

It’s a soft, lilting tune, but full of emotion. Hope. Safety. Warmth.

All the things I hope I can be for Isabella in the future.

It’s perfect.

I head over to the stand and interrupt the merchant standing there before he can even go into his sales pitch.

“I’d like one of your music boxes.” I point at the one on the display. “One that plays that song.”

The merchant nods, a bit taken aback by my abruptness. These merchants are used to having to haggle for every last credit, and here I was wanting to make a purchase outright. “Yes, yes!” He yelps, eyes alight at the prospect of a new sale. I have no idea how much these must cost, but with the exorbitant import fees on top of the materials and labor…

I grimace. My credit balance is gonna be feeling it later, but I have more than enough to treat Isabella to something special. She deserves it.

He scrambles and ducks under the table to pull out a beautifully wrapped red and gold gift box. “Very good gift.” I notice he’s not wearing a translator, leaving him to muddle through Aesirheim’s language alone. Makes sense, though. Universal translators are incredibly expensive, and the ISA furnishes them as part of the contract between our planets; we need them in order to form relationships with our omegas. For everyone else? It can cost an arm and a leg — nearly literally.

The merchant makes a big show of winding up the example music box again. The song starts anew, a small dancing figure bobbing up and down among stars and clouds. “All the way from Earth, 100% authentic, guarantee!”

I know that if I don’t close the deal as soon as possible, he’ll try to sell me another dozen things. It’s easier to sell to a warm lead, after all. But I’ve been a regular at the markets for years. I know how to deal with his type.

Pulling out my comm, I tap in a number that feels right and a slip of paper prints out, marked with my ID number and signature. I hand it across the table before he can think of any other ideas. What did Isabella say this thing reminded her of? A ‘checkbook’?

“Will this be enough?”

The merchant looks like he’s literally struck gold. His eyes bug out, his mouth drops open. “Yes, yes of course! Here, let me give you a special gift! Bonus!”

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