Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I remember what else she said. You're the same as everyone else. Forcing women to service you.
In the scheme of things, I've had worse.
Someone else has…touched her. She has jerked the cock of others she did not want to. The realization staggers me. Someone else has harmed my consort. My mate.
No, I correct myself swiftly. Not my mate. Drakoni take mates. I am not drakoni. I am Salorian.
"You have served in other men's beds?" I ask, my tone brittle even to my own ears.
"Why do you care as long as I get you off?" Her voice is tired as she returns to the bed, tugging a blanket around her shoulders and facing away from me, as if she cannot stand the sight of me. "You think a woman gets very far in this world without using the only weapons she's got? All you men are the same. You're happy to take a blow job and then clutch your pearls when you find out your mistress isn't a virgin."
I clench my jaw, trying to sort through the emotions racing through my head. I pride myself on my cold rationale, but perhaps this world has polluted that, too. I can't think of anything except Melina turning my cock aside, milking it as I shoot my load on the floor, and the look of distaste in her beautiful dark eyes.
She thinks I'm just like them.
It infuriates me, and it makes me feel helpless, both emotions I do not like. Seething, I grab my robe from the floor, not caring if it's spattered with seed or not, and storm out of the room.
Chapter
Five
MELINA
I've done it now.
I've pushed too far. I shouldn't have acted like I did. I should have let him lead, let him set the pace so I could see exactly what he wanted from me. Instead, I sat in my scented, warm bath and stewed with anger. How dare he? He wanted a fuck toy? I'd give him a fuck toy and let him realize that he's not better than anyone else. I'd get it over with and hope he'd feel every bit of disdain brimming inside me for the position he's forced me to take.
I'm such a fucking idiot. I know you get more flies with honey than vinegar. I know I should be sweeter to him since he controls everything and everyone in this fucking fort. I wouldn't be surprised if he had me dragged out of here and shot, not after the look he gave me when I walked away. I can deflect on some of it. Spitting on his dick? I can say it was to lubricate his shaft so I could work it…which is true, but it also felt good to spit on him.
But all the words I scolded him with? Telling him he's no better than any other petty dictator? That was all me not knowing when to shut my damn mouth.
Azar doesn't come back to “our” quarters, and I don't know what to do. The truth is, if he does all the things that I made him promise to do in exchange for me in his bed, how can I say no? This is like a marriage of convenience that they had in all those old paperback novels, where both parties marry for a common goal. Is two minutes in my mouth worth more than a school for the children here? Do I value my tongue that much? Any other woman in the fort would probably gleefully suck his dick for what he's offered me, and I had to bitch at him for making me feel like…well, like a whore.
So much for my survival instinct. Apparently it went out the door along with my common sense.
I still hate him, but I can hate him and use him for what he can do for the fort's people. If all he wants is a quick jerk (and boy, that was quicker than I'd expected), I can put aside my pride, can't I?
If he doesn't kill me, that is.
I lie in bed for a while longer, staring at the ceiling. Do I clean up the cum on the floor, or will he view that as an apology I'm not sure I'm ready to make yet? I can't sleep, so I decide I should dress instead. If they're going to execute me, I want to be dressed appropriately. My mom always used to tell me to wear clean, pretty drawers when I left the house, because if I got into an accident, I didn't want dirty granny panties showing on TV. So I head for the closet that's been prepared for me and consider my options. There's nothing even remotely like my old, worn uniform. Everything in the closet is flowing and princess-like and gorgeous…and completely inappropriate for life in an apocalypse.