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Heaven.
“Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming inside of you, filling you up, and soon, you’ll have my baby.”
SLOANE
Sloane
Alexie forced me to shower, cleaned and bandaged his branding, gave me pain medicine, then told me to go rest “like a good girl” while he went off to handle business.
But I couldn’t rest. Even though the sheets had been changed out and the room made spotless, I just couldn’t relax. His words tumbled over and over in my head as I tossed and turned in the bed.
“Come all over this cock, malishka—the dick that’s going to breed you every single day.”
“I’m coming inside of you, filling you up, and soon, you’ll have my baby.”
“You want my babies, too. You’re just too ashamed to admit it.”
I screamed my frustration into the pillow.
Suddenly the door creaked open, and I shot up, clutching the sheet to my naked body.
The kid from earlier—Roman, I think Alexie called him, walked into the bedroom. My stomach lurched from the smells emanating from the tray of food he carried toward me. I dry heaved. Gross.
When he placed the tray on the side table, I was surprised. It looked like tomato soup and toast. Did Alexie know it was my favorite, or was it just a coincidence? And why was the smell upsetting me? I would usually love this meal.
I squinted at Roman. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Eleven,” he said.
“What?” I shrieked.What kind of monster has kidnapped me?“Why are you here and not one of the staff?”
Roman shrugged. “I think they don’t understand English.”
My heaving stomach was not in the mood for any of it. There was a glass of water and a glass that probably had orange juice in it, judging from the color.
“I’m not hungry.” I looked away praying I didn’t hurl. Maybe it was the pain medicine, I mused. I did feel weak.
“You gotta eat,” the kid said, his tone apologetic. “If you don’t, Mr. Petrov may take his anger out on me. I don’t want him to hurt me, so please eat.”
My head swung toward him so fast I got dizzy. It was like the spins I got when I drank way too much. I rubbed my eyes and decided with finality that it must be stress making me sick.
“That’s not fair,” I bit out. Was this kid being held hostage along with me?
“Life ain’t fair sometimes,” he mused sadly, his eyes reflecting a wisdom that belied his young age. He’d obviously seen things no child should see.
“Fine. I’ll eat,” I grumbled, folding my arms across my chest. “You can go.”
Apparently, the kid didn’t believe me.
“Here. I’ll help you.” Roman picked up a spoon, dipped it into the red soup, and brought it to my lips. “Please open your mouth, ma’am.”
“Sloane.” I told him although he hadn’t asked. “My name is Sloane.”
“I know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then use it.” I parted my lips and let him feed me.
When I tried to swallow the bite, it didn’t make it. It took everything in me not to spew it right back in his face. I literally had to smack my palm over my mouth. With great effort, I tried to swallow it again. It hurt, and my stomach rioted, but it stayed down.
