Page 58 of Captured
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Juliet
The ship the Drakians call the Pearl is as large as a small planet, and filled with so many Drakians, I don’t know if there’s any remaining on their home planet.
So much I don’t know about them. So much I have to learn. And it all begins with the one who saved my life.
I follow Rakir as he leads me into a spacious room, the door closing behind us without a single sound. I cast a quick look around and I instantly know this is the most luxurious private quarters I’ve ever seen on a spaceship.
The space is large and clean, polished black floors shining under the low, diffused light. What appears to be a dining room table and chairs is laid out beside a storage area, but I don’t see any kitchen appliances there. It doesn’t surprise me. No one would think to have a private kitchen aboard a spaceship and I’m pretty sure Drakian royalty don’t cook for themselves, either.
There’s a large sitting area with low benches covered in thick padding. Opposite the benches is an equally low bed, large and square, covered with blankets. It’s easily big enough for five large men to sleep on.
Tucked in a corner is a large oval vat and in the corner is a round metallic device that I can only assume is a shower.
Everything is wide open, no separation between the rooms.
“I had the translator fitted in my private quarters,” Rakir speaks as he turns to me. “We can speak freely in here as well as in the Healer’s room, but I’m afraid that won’t be the case on the rest of the ship.”
There’s an apology in there, but it’s not necessary. Why would the Pearl be fitted to translate human and Drakian language? I’m relieved we have this at least.
“This is your room?” I speak with caution. Whatever bond I thought we had on the uncharted planet, I can’t be sure we still have here.
Aboard the Pearl, I’m a human in Drakian territory.
Am I his enemy still? All I know is I feel the same about him as I did before.
“This will be our private quarters,” Rakir corrects, emphasizing the wordour. “As my Amara, it will be your home for as long as we are to remain on the Pearl.”
“As your Amara.” I nod, repeating the strange word. I have no idea what he means, what the relationship implies to him, only that it has some importance. “You still haven’t told me what it means to you and what is the Binding?”
I stand in the middle of the room, swallowing through a suddenly dry throat. Rakir looks at me, silent and closed off. Whatever he thinks or feels, I can’t read it.
“The title of Amara is the highest honor a Drakian can bestow on a female.” He speaks without showing any feelings, every bit the cold monster the Drakians were always supposed to be. “The Binding is a ceremony. It is the way we proclaim to the Drakian world that a female has reached the status of Amara.”
“What is it that you’re not telling me?” This is all so confusing. Why is Rakir so closed mouthed about this?
“The Binding ceremony might be strange to your human customs,” Rakir finally says. “I cannot predict your reaction to it.”
The way he looks at me. Like he wants to gobble me up. I squirm under his gaze, intense and direct. Like a brand.
“I see.” But I don’t. I don’t understand anything. All this is too much, too fast. “Just tell me.”
Rakir holds my gaze for long, agonizing seconds, then finally nods.
“The Binding is a public display of shared pleasure and obedience. The female is taken on a stage and made to climax several times before the male finally spills his seed inside her.”
Time pauses. Did I hear right? I blink, my mind a blank as I struggle to make sense of Rakir’s words.
“You mean you intend to fuck me in front of everyone to see?” This can’t be right. This can’t be, period. “This is some kind of sick joke, isn’t it?”
But I can tell from Rakir’s face that it isn’t. This isn’t a joke and this is something that means a lot to him.
“Having an Amara is the greatest honor a Drakian can hope for.” Rakir lifts his hand, his palm cupping my cheek in some sort of heartbreaking intimate gesture. “A Drakian’s heart and soul. A light to a moonless sky.”
“So, it’s like being a mate?” Mate, husband, partner. This isn’t a new concept to me, but it’s one I never considered for myself.
“No.” Rakir shakes his head and his fingers wrap more firmly around my chin. “Not just a mate. An Amara has a deeper bond to her master. She belongs to him completely.”
