Riana
willed herself not to be sick.
She
remembered
Find the
strongest man here. She needed to find the strongest man here.
The first
man she saw distinctly was frightening. At least a foot taller than she was and
made like a bull with an oversized chest and unpleasantly beefy arms. He had a
long black braid down his back. And his bare chest was covered with tattoos.
He
approached her, eyeing her up and down with an objectifying look that made her
feel like she was naked.
“Thorn
will want her,” someone said from the sidelines.
The man
turned his head with a sneer, as if defying anyone who would assert that Thorn
had a stronger claim to her than him.
“How are
you with your mouth?” he asked. He turned back to pin her down with a merciless
black gaze.
Riana
swallowed hard. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t speak and her heart was
hammering in her chest so painfully she thought it might explode.
This man
would eat her alive.
There
wasn’t any miraculous rescue in this place. No authority to keep any sort of
order. Her only chance of survival was to be smarter than anyone else.
And to
ally herself with exactly the right man.
That
man—by all appearances—was approaching even now, swaggering with the kind of
confident authority that showed his position in this primitive community.
Thorn’s
clothes were in better shape than anyone else’s. And he looked well-fed and
rested, which wasn’t the case with at least half the people she could see from
where she stood. He also had a kind of entourage—some men who acted like
bodyguards and the women Riana had noticed before.
Riana had
met his type before. Arrogant, entitled, confident of their own physical
prowess. The kind of superficial alpha male you could find in every ship, bar,
and gym in Coalition space.
“Were you
going to make a play for her, Asp?” Thorn asked, facing the other man with a
manner bristling with testosterone.
It was a
silent battle—a wordless duel of power and intimidation.
Riana
looked on without breathing, wondering if Asp would back down or if they’d
actually get in a fight over her.
It wasn’t
a romantic fantasy. It was more like ghastly horror. Both of these men would
just use her until she was entirely used up.
Thorn
might not be as innately brutal as Asp seemed to be. But Thorn was utterly selfish—she
could tell that from the first look—and he hadn’t become the alpha male around
here by treating other people as human beings.
Asp
eventually backed down, muttering something under his breath as he slunk away
in disgust.
Riana was
hardly relieved. At least a fight would have delayed the inevitable.
But the
inevitable was fast approaching. Thorn stepped closer to her and his eyes
crawled over her body from her shoulder-length curls to her sensible shoes.
“Are you a
whore?” he asked blandly.
“No.” She
was so surprised by the question that she managed to speak over the rancid
texture in her mouth.
“Good. I
don’t do whores, although they’re usually all we get down here. You have a good
body, which is the only other thing I require in a woman. Two options.” His
eyes—a green so dark it looked black—narrowed as he explained, “Be my woman. Do
what I tell you. I’ll keep you safe. Or, if you refuse, I’ll turn you over to
the rest of them.”
He
gestured back to “the rest of them”. Riana’s mind was in too great a blur to
see distinct faces but the rest of the prisoners seemed to be lurking just in
the background, like a hungry pack of wolves.
“They’ll
take turns using you until they’re bored. You won’t last the night.”
Riana knew
his final words weren’t an exaggeration. It was possible some lesser alpha male
might try to take her as his, but he probably wouldn’t be strong enough to keep
her safe from the others for long.
“What’s
your decision?” Thorn demanded, looking slightly annoyed at her hesitation.
This was
the moment. The one that would decide her fate.
Common
sense, social pressure, and nearly all the evidence told her to take Thorn up
on his offer.
Let him
fuck her. Let him keep her alive.
Riana
glanced around the prison one more time and her eyes landed on the barred cell
of the loner whose name
Now he was
standing silently, one hand resting loosely on a bar.
Her eyes
met his for a few seconds and she saw something there she hadn’t seen in anyone
else’s here.
It wasn’t
kindness or pity or mercy or anything soft.
She
couldn’t really name what she’d seen but it reminded her of independence.
She turned
back to Thorn.
He was
waiting, a smirk of pleased entitlement on his handsome face, as if he never
doubted what her answer would be.
That did
it. She ignored her reason and followed her instinct.
She turned
on her heel and kicked out again, this time landing the blow right on Thorn’s
hard, flat stomach.