“I suspect that’s possible.” He paused for a moment, eyeing the food on the plate. “I’m gambling on the belief that you’re a person of honor. And if you’re not...” He shrugged. “I can always resort to dragging you to the mess hall by force.”
“Why don’t you just do that?” I scoffed. “Why pressure me for a promise?”
“I’d love to have some cooperation from you.” He shifted his weight to his other foot. “I want you to have whatever choice I can give you. Because I am a person of honor.”
“I don’t believe there is any honorable way to deal with this fucked-up situation.” I sighed. “Whose idea was this anyway?”
“The captain’s. If you have one female and over six hundred males who want her—”
“Six hundred!” I gasped.
He nodded.
“There used to be over seven hundreds of us just over a month ago.”
“What happened to the rest then?” I asked mechanically.
He shrugged his wide shoulders before replying evasively, “Power struggle.” Gazing at me with curiosity, he asked, “Does the size of the crowd bother you? Is there a smaller number that you would prefer?”
“Yes!” I exhaled sharply. “How about zero?”
“That’s not going to happen. They want you.”
“But why?”
“Isn’t it clear? They all want to fuck you. Only if they do, you will die, and they’ll be left with nothing. Vrateus gave them the next best thing—they’ll watch you and pleasure themselves. They’ll get their fun, and you’ll live.”
From the captain’s perspective that might be a win-win situation. Except that no one took my personal feelings into consideration.
“And if I refuse?”
“You’ll die.” He huffed a breath, his thick brow ridges twitched in annoyance. “Listen, I don’t have much patience, and long explanations bore me. So, you either go out there and do it on your own or I’ll drag you to the mess hall myself and—”
“You’ll molest me?”
He stared from under his heavy brow.
“It doesn’t have to be me. In fact, I’d prefer if you choose someone else but me.”
“Oh, it’d better be anyone else but you,” I said quickly.
His jaw muscles flexed again, the way they tended to do when he was irritated or angry. I’d learned some of his tells already.
“I’m sure Nocc would love to give it a go,” he gritted through his teeth. “Or Kex and Tezul, the two males who tried to climb on top of you yesterday.”
The recent memories of that made my stomach churn with nausea, which must be what Wyck had been hoping for when he’d brought it up.
“You’re not helping by scaring me.” My voice came out gravely hollow.
“I need your promise,” he insisted, stubbornly.
The promise to allow someone to assault me in front of hundreds of over-sexed aliens. Or to die.
There had to be another way.
“So... They need entertainment?” I asked, slowly. “Of...a sexual nature?”
“Right.”
I bit my lip, mulling over an idea in my head.
“What if I gave them that—something like that. But without, you know, the whole touching and coming part.”
“What are you talking about?” He shook his head.
I raised my hand, as if about to make a vow.
“I’ll give you my promise that I’ll provide entertainment for your buddies.” I waved my hand in the air. “But on my terms.”
“I’m asking again.” He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll be needing a few things...” I glanced back at the clothing rack. It held enough dresses for me to make a costume. “Do you have something that plays music?”
“Why music?” He stared at me, clearly dumbfounded.
“I’ll dance, okay?” I explained. I’d taken dance lessons for years in school and then in art college. I’d even won a few competitions, back in the day. Not that any of that mattered much to a group of males searching for stimulation to get themselves off. “I’ll take my clothes off too,” I added, reluctantly. “Some of them.”
I stifled a sigh. Sadly, I wouldn’t be the first woman in history pressured into stripping by necessity.
“Dance?” Wyck scrubbed his hand over his face, not looking convinced at all. “How is a dance supposed to be exciting?”
Clearly, he’d never seen a striptease before. That could work to my advantage: they’d have nothing to compare me with. I’d have the sense of novelty on my side.
I really hoped that would be enough.
The idea could be tested right here, I realized.
“Oh, Wyck. Dance can be so many things,” I said in a deliberately low, raspy voice, moving toward him. Swaying my hips, I gave him a sultry look. “It can also be very, very sexually stimulating.”
I hoped errocks—as well as the rest of the aliens here—responded to body language similarly to human men. Because that plate with steaming stew looked and smelled more amazing the closer I got.
Wyck’s nostrils flared as I approached.
“Hungry?” he asked, his voice came out rougher than normal.
“Very.” I held his gaze, licking my lips.
His thick eyebrow ridges shifted together, his bright eyes glaring with menace and heat. At this distance, I spotted grass-green spots floating in the yellow-gold of his irises—a touch of calm amongst the wild light.
“Come and get it, then.” He took a piece of meat off the plate, holding it out between his fingers. The same way he’d done when he’d tossed food to Lesh.
I was sure he intended to insult me, but I was too hungry to care. Stepping closer, I rose on my tiptoes, tilted my head back, and opened my mouth.
“That’s a good girl.” His voice rumbled with approval. He sounded almost delusional, as if caught in a surreal dream with me.
This place certainly felt like a dream—teetering on the edge between a nightmare and a hallucination.
He dropped the meat between my lips, quickly withdrawing his hand, not giving me a chance bite his fingers. This might not be the best meal I’d ever had, but it certainly felt like it. I quickly chewed and swallowed the piece of meat right there.
“More.” I reached for the plate in his hand, but he lifted it up higher.
“Not so fast.”
“I’ve given you my promise.” I stepped on the toes of his boots, to get higher. I’d never thought of myself as short, but Wyck would dwarf any human with his height and bulk. Next to him, I felt petite, and the plate remained out of my reach.
“Not exactly the promise I’d asked you for.” He moved the plate even higher.
Hooking one arm around his massive neck, I pulled myself up, straining to get to the food. “Who cares? As long as you get the same results?”
His other arm wound around my waist, holding me in place.
My attempts to get to the plate suddenly halted, the awareness of our position rushed in.
I was hugging his neck, my face at his eye level, my body pressed flush to his so tight I could feel the firm beat of his heart against my chest. Every breath I took was filled with his scent—strong and masculine like him.