Page 30 of Fighting Gravity
I marched down the hall to the spiraling ramp leading to the first story. Veron met me at the rise, her hands out to the sides with confusion.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to have another conversation with Ket,” I grumbled.
“You’re not going back for the human, are you?”
“Just be ready when the crew arrives.”
“Ready for what?”
“Whatever happens.”
I adjusted my bracers, running a finger along the leather sheath where my Sylvar was concealed. The guards had missed that weapon when they stripped me of my items. Most creatures did. The knife was primitive and unthreatening to the untrained eye and my bracer did a good job of hiding it. But seeing as it was all I had, I was going to need it.
13: Quinn
Just when I thought I couldn’t get buried deeper in shit, shit found a way to smother me even more. Norm had just traded me for a fucking ship, so far as I understood. I didn’t exactly speak their language, but when the tall, lanky creep took me and let Norm and Sour Face go, I knew it had to have been some kind of deal.
A bad deal.
I had been stripped of my cloak and one of the skinny jerks kept poking me with his stick, which sent jolts of electrical pain through me every time.
As soon as Norm was out of sight and I realized I had been left behind with a bunch of aliens I didn’t know, my blood went cold. I felt like shards of ice were slicing through my veins when I looked up at my new captor. Norm had called them shikari and the way he regarded me with unblinking fascination was not at all flattering. No, it made my insides crawl. I glowered at him, balling my hands into fists. If only I wasn’t bound with the stupid cuffs Norm had put on me, I’d be kicking and fighting my way out of there. Instead, I was rendered kind of useless. Between my restraints and the lingering sting from the shock sticks, I wasn’t in the best condition to fight a group of creepy spike-heads.
Being unable to fight back was getting to be a pattern…
The lanky guy that had done all the negotiating backed away from me, leaving me in the middle of the room as if he was checking out his new car. His gaze licked over every inch of me before he stepped back toward my body and started poking and prodding at my limbs. I cringed at every touch of his pointy fingers. He pinched my arms. Slapped my thighs. Pulled my hair. Cupped my breasts. He sniffed me, felt me, and studied me, every gesture making me feel more and more violated. Then he abruptly stuck his fingers in my mouth, prying my jaw open to look at my teeth.
It was as good an opportunity as any. I bit down hard, hearing a crunch before he yanked back with a high-pitched yelp. I didn’t break the bone, but I did draw blood. It tasted bitter and thick. I spit onto the floor, snarling up at him as one of his guards came forward and jammed that damn stick against my back. My body seized and I crumbled to the floor, every limb choked with pain until I was temporarily numb and shaking on the floor.
The boss, who I’d deemed Spike, wrapped his finger in some clear covering, hissing through his teeth before he stepped in and drew back his foot like he was going to kick me in the ribs.
But he refrained. He spoke that hissing language to his men and shook his head.
I wasn’t an expert on aliens, but I knew patterns. I’d been sold and if I had been sold, that meant I held value. And if I held value, I wasn’t to be damaged lest my value diminish.
But what I’d been sold for was still a mystery.
As I said, I’d been around the block. Notthisparticular block, but I’d been around. He planned to use me for something that required me to be unblemished and that made my skin prickly uncomfortably.
Gesturing to one of his men, the spikey freak retreated to his sofa and slumped down beside two females of a different species. They were not the most appealing things, but they were definitely that port’s equivalent to escorts… or just plain hookers. Each of them dawned a thin, silver collar that could have passed for jewelry if I didn’t catch the little blue lights flashing on the sides.
One of the guards took my arm and dragged me to my feet, unfastening my wrist cuffs. Once I was free, I was half tempted to start swinging, but too many guys with sticks were standing around me and I really didn’t know how many more shocks I could take.
Closing my eyes, I felt myself waver on my feet a little. And that was enough time for someone to start ripping at my clothes. I woke up from my little dizzy spell to find myself being stripped naked. My shirt was pulled over my head. My jumpsuit was pulled down my legs and my boots were forced off until I was a completely nude object standing in a room full of alien strangers trying to get an eyeful.
For the first time in a long time, I felt truly helpless. My fire was doused and I felt more vulnerable than ever. I raised my arms and covered my breasts, staring at the ground and trying to get through the peep show with a little dignity intact. Spike spoke a couple sentences to his men and one grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around from one side to the other like a cow at auction. Then he tried to address me, but I didn’t know one word of his ugly language so I just scowled, grinding my teeth.
“Fucking pervert,” I said under my breath.
Finally, I was given relief when Spike snapped his fingers at one of the girls and she retrieved a garment from a chest in the corner of the room. When she unfolded it, I saw a very thin fabric dress of some sort. She slid it over my head and it draped over my naked body like silk… but it wasn’t silk. It didn’t do my figure any favors, either. It was loose on my body, but it covered me just below my butt and that seemed like it was as good as I was going to get.
I brushed my hands over the white fabric, wondering what the hell was going to come of me if I didn’t figure out an escape plan. But my brief distraction got me in even more trouble. When I felt cold metal kiss my neck, I immediately jumped back, grabbing at the silver collar that had just been locked around my throat. Spike let out a laugh. Or, what I assumed was a laugh judging by the awkwardly wide grin on his skinny face. He said something to me and when I just stared back at him, he gestured at his head with his hands.
That wasn’t hard to understand at all. Closing his fists next to his ears and then abruptly opening his fingers wide meant “explosion” to any half-intelligent person. Which was exactly what I imagined those collars were for. You run… you get your head blown off. Of course, I didn’t know if it was a manual control, a proximity thing, or something else. I was going to have to play it safe and figure that out.
Point was, I was fucked. Royally and absolutely fucked sideways in the mud.
