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Freya missed reading books. She missed many things that would have distracted her from thinking about Marco, and the monotony of work didn’t help.
Another day ended, another bland meal. She slept fitfully, kept awake by erotic dreams that recalled the way he excited her clitoris, conquered her virgin ass, and came with a roar. On the third wakening, she slid her hand between her thighs and touched her folds, feeling the wetness. She groaned and teased her clitoris with the tips of her fingers. The swift arousal lasted a few minutes. The orgasm was hurried, half-baked, and not as satisfying as the ones she’d had with Marco. Frustrated, she rolled onto her belly and burrowed her face into the pillow, praying for sleep.
The days passed in a blur. Bells rang, meals were eaten, and other than chatting to her coworkers and bumping into Tally, Freya drifted through each one of those days in a state of misery.
Marco’s plans continued to take shape. A new police force was commissioned with more restrictions and constant inspections to ensure the right sort of men were chosen.
“It’s a prison with rebels and thieves,” commented Jean. “What do they expect? It’s bound to become corrupt again.”
“We’re not, though, are we? So there has to be some decency. Rebels aren’t necessarily criminals,” Freya countered.
“I suppose,” Jean said, unconvinced.
The faction leaders, those caught with black market goods and pimping abused women, were publicly punished, as Marco promised. Freya didn’t witness the floggings. Abby went to watch and reported back that Kiefer wept like a child when they’d whipped his back.
“I always knew he was weak. Got what he deserved, after what he did to me.” Abby wouldn’t say any more, but she had a chirpy look on her face all day.
“Will it make a difference?” Freya pondered.
“Trouble is, there’s a power vacuum now,” said Jean during their lunch break. “These men are all locked up in solitary for now and who’s taken their place? Other lowlifes. It’s going to take more than a few whippings to keep this place under control.”
The next day, Otto didn’t turn up for work. “Reward day. He’s probably sitting somewhere in the shade and sleeping.” Abby’s eyes darted around the press room. “Watch your back, Freya. Drax is here instead. He’s not one for messing around with.”
Freya had not met Drax before, but at her first toilet break, she encountered him as he hovered by the door, smirking as she walked by. “Going to get myself in those pants one day,” he laughed and pointed at his groin.
Freya scowled. “You think so?” she shouted over her shoulder.
He chased after her and grabbed her arm. “Don’t you think I will? You’re that Earthling girl, the one everyone wants to try out. What are you going to do to stop me?” He pinned her against the wall.
There wasn’t anyone around. The dim corridor, which ran along the back of the building, was deserted. Freya struggled, trying to kick her legs and find a way to wriggle free.
Would it never end? The constant threat of danger brought about by the lack of security. Would she just learn to bear it, as Abby insinuated? One day, would it be simpler to let them have what they wanted than resist?
Never.
What decided it for her was that she had a way out. Abby was right to call her an idiot. Life was too precious to throw away. She had an opportunity to make that difference at last, but not by spying. No, she would whisper in the ear of the most powerful man on Tagra. She would find some way to make Marco bend to her ideas, her needs.
She clenched her fists and brought her knee up into Drax’s groin.
Chapter Eight
Marco told his captains that it would take time. Change didn’t happen in one day. He used the same tactic to convince himself to leave Freya alone. Let her come to him when she was ready. For her own protection, he had her monitored; her implant was tracked from building to building, but she never deviated from the routine of the day. All appeared to be well.
He was disappointed, more than disappointed, which surprised him. He’d not expected her to turn him down, not after the sex they’d had. He didn’t understand Earthlings, their fascination with love. It wasn’t that the Vendu didn’t have intense emotions for each other, but nobody expected them to last. However, when he tried to sleep, the loneliness ate at him. He could choose another jenjin—his assistant had lined up several for him to look at in the Volta. But he declined. He’d met the woman he wanted and daily the craving for her continued until his balls ached.
His plans for improving the colony were slotting into place, and when the day had come to have the transgressors whipped, he’d dressed in his smartest uniform and stood on the platform and announced the sentences. Scanning the crowd gathered, he’d known she wasn’t there. She’d been holed up in her room. Once the punishments had been completed, the temptation to storm into her room and persuade her to be his jenjin had been immense, but he’d held back. Things took time.
“Sir.” Puto, his young assistant, entered his office. “The patrols were called to an assault by the laundry supervisor. You asked to be kept informed about the Earthling prisoner? She has been taken into custody.”
“What?” Marco leapt off his chair. “When?”
“Two hours after morning shift began. She assaulted a—”
Marco held up his hand. “Wait, she assaulted?”
“Sir. She claims he started it and she acted in self-defense. He’s in the infirmary. She stamped on his…” Puto’s cheeks flushed pink.
“I see. She is quite a handful, isn’t she?” Marco grinned. She’d put her training to good use, thankfully. “I want her brought to me.”
