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“Wha—?” I’d healed enough to move and try to sit up, but I was still too weak for much strength, so when he pushed me back down and held me there with one hand while he finished, I just closed my eyes, turned my head aside, suffering through.
“Ready for another day of extracting?” he asked when he was done and tucking himself away again before wiping the semen off me.
“You won’t…” I slurred, finding it difficult to talk after the damage he’d done to my mouth. My jaws still ached and my wounded tongue wasn’t working so well. “Won’t get away with this,” I tried telling him anyway.
“Darling,” he said with a smile as he took my sore chin in his hand to force me to look at him. “I already have.”
I attempted to spit on him, but I ended up just kind of drooling out the side of my mouth. It did run over his hand where he was holding my jaw, though, which caused him to curse in dismay.
And in return, he beat me until I blacked out.
When I came to, his assistant had arrived, and they’d already strapped me down to the extractor. Unfortunately, I was awake for the insertion of my mouth retractor and the turning-over process so I could face the map.
Which was so painful it knocked me out again.
I spent the rest of that day in and out of awareness.
It didn’t take me long to decide I preferred extraction days though. I remembered less on those days, and I didn’t like remembering. I didn’t like being cognizant.
Everett was always there whenever I was awake. And I think he was growing a bit too fixated on me. He never fully raped me, but he liked to fondle. A lot. And he jacked off on me daily.
What was worse, he started to grow kind when he fed and nursed me, stroking my bald head and telling me how much he’d take care of me because I was his now. He owned me. He swore to me that if I survived after this was over, he’d hide me from King Ignatius so the two of us could be together forever. He promised I could be the first woman in his harem when he became ruler of a newly formed Teller.
It was probably for the best that my tongue swelled up too large for me to formulate words after the second day on the extractor, otherwise, I would’ve told him I’d die before ever willingly staying with him. And he’d no doubt find some new way to humiliate me and exert his control if I did. I really didn’t need any more pain than I was already experiencing.
On extraction days, he was back to being clinical and cruel, showing no mercy as he made me endure excruciating moment after excruciating moment, laughing at me when I moaned or whimpered too much and hitting me if I managed to jerk out of the way and upset an incision when I was being cut.
But I preferred his brutal, ruthless side much more than his creepy, stomach-roiling amorous side. I felt less vile and sullied on the inside during torture times.
Days turned into weeks. I had nothing to help me keep track of time, but I’m pretty sure about fifteen days had passed when we received another visitor.
I was on the extractor, bleeding out my lifeblood onto the map under me and trying to remember my own name.
Quilla, I finally decided.
Yes, I was Quilla. Quilla of House Graykey. And my parents had been…
My parents had been…
For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the names of my parents.
Oh well, it’d been years since they’d been alive. Maybe I could remember other people I loved. People I’d known more recently. Like the redhead.
Shit. What was her name?
She was my aunt. Yes, I remembered that. And on Earth, she was married to my other aunt—hell, I couldn’t remember her name either—but those two women had been my true parents. They’d raised me to be strong. To be a survivor. To live.
Live, a familiar voice encouraged inside my head.
The man. He’d given me the will to live.
I could picture his face. Dark hair and dancing blue eyes with the impish grin and pure heart. He’d loved me. And I…
I loved him too.
But what had his name been?
Indigo, I realized with sudden clarity. I tried to say it aloud, but nothing more than a moan emerged.
