Surrender (6 page)

“You were a bad girl,” he scolded, pushing his finger past her tight ring. She gasped and tried to relax, though it soon proved impossible. Without missing a beat, Merokk moved in and out of her asshole, fucking her shy entrance with his huge finger. Remorse welled up inside Fiona as she accepted this unusual punishment. She’d expected a spanking and nothing more. But Merokk had unique methods of asserting his authority over her, and this was no doubt one of them. Her face heated as she imagined what she must look like, bent over her husband’s knee with her thighs spread as he chastised her by taking her bottom hole like this. The thrusts quickened, and he began to scold her again, driving home this part of the lesson.

Fiona’s teeth dug into her bottom lip as the lump in her throat burned larger and larger. A heavy sense of shame surged through her as she realized the error of her ways. She’d disobeyed Merokk—her husband. Knowing he was disappointed in her because of her bad behavior tore her down. She was beyond ashamed. Craving absolution, she surrendered her will to him, relaxing her body and accepting every thrust of his finger as due punishment. Each time he scolded her, a new wave of humiliation swept over her. Just as she lost all sense of time and place, his digit pulled out of her ass, and he stroked the flesh on her bottom globes.

“I’m going to spank you now, Betsy, and it’s going to hurt. I’m not doing this to be cruel. I’m your husband and I care about you. There’s a reason behind every rule I give you, and most of these rules are in place to protect you. If you disobey, you will be punished and, hopefully, learn something from the lesson. Never leave the house without me or Rentzaq again.”

His caressing hand left her bottom and—
smack!
He spanked fast and hard, barely giving Fiona a chance to catch her breath in between blows. Her poor bottom burned like an inferno, and the pain increased exponentially with each calculated smack. He covered both her ass cheeks and worked the back of her upper thighs over with a stream of stinging slaps. This was different from the previous times he’d warmed her bottom during sex. Scorching tears flowed from her eyes as the weight of her misdeeds descended into her conscious with roaring speed. She’d disobeyed one little rule, and her world had come crashing down. Dammit, Merokk didn’t even know her real name. She’d lied and continued to lie every day to a man she was growing to love, a man who cared about her enough to keep her safe and administer punishment when she deserved it.

Pain consumed her inside and out. She made silent promises to mind Merokk’s rules, even the ones she didn’t agree with. Just as she was about to lose her mind and plead with him to stop, the spanking ended.

“It’s over, little one.”

His words drew her back to reality, but she couldn’t stop the flow of her stupid tears. Dammit, she’d only cried a few times in her life before she’d met him. He brought her up in his lap, cradling her and kissing away her tears. She held on to him for dear life, praying he’d never find out her real name and praying he’d still want her if he did.

“Shh. Don’t cry.” He rubbed her back and buried his face in her hair. When she finally calmed down, he pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. “I would be devastated if something bad happened to you. You’re my whole world, little one.”

Chapter Six

Weeks flew by and Merokk fell into a comfortable routine. The ambassador position consisted of boring meetings with Earth officials he usually didn’t need to be present for, so Merokk kept busy by supervising the selection of Kall warriors who would remain on the military base in Virginia. Often he’d fly down for the day and train with his people. It kept his body and mind sharp, and the daylong absences from Betsy seemed to strengthen their growing relationship. Her excitement at seeing him after hours away warmed his heart. Often she ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck in greeting upon his return.

Even Earth grew on Merokk. The winter in DC wasn’t as brutal as in his district back home, and the heated greenhouse behind his mansion flourished with vegetation native to his planet. Many of his friends remained as ambassadors or as warriors on the military base, so he had plenty of company among his own kind. An era of peace had settled upon Earth as Kall and humans worked together side by side to rebuild.

Betsy seemed happy except for when she visited with her father, so Merokk often declined invitations to the White House and invited the president over less and less. Other than that, his new wife thrived. She got along fabulously with the servants. She was always polite to his friends and had become close with a few of their wives—Kall and human alike. Layla, one of her father’s aides, stopped by regularly. Betsy claimed they were good friends before the war.

Despite how happy he was with his wife, little things kept popping up between them, causing him to wonder if he’d ever truly know the real Betsy. He’d read in her file that she’d played piano quite well and had one brought to the house as a gift—only for her to claim it had been too many years since she’d practiced and she couldn’t remember one simple song. When he asked about her late mother, she stiffened and refused to discuss the woman who’d died of cancer during her husband’s first term as president. Merokk’s mother had died when he was a child too, and his assumption that this common denominator would bring them closer had been wrong.

Merokk had hardly a thing to complain about though. He desired Betsy’s company every night and delighted in pushing her limits in the bedroom. She didn’t balk at much and obeyed most of the time. She knew what to expect if she didn’t. Merokk didn’t tolerate a smart mouth or the slightest eye roll, and he warmed her bottom well when she deserved it.

February bled into March, and March bled into April. Spring came early, and the warm weather was a welcome respite. Rebuilding during the winter months hadn’t been easy, especially when it snowed and the white stuff lay on the ground for days. But by the end of April, Washington, DC, no longer resembled a war-torn city.

It was on a particularly beautiful spring day that Merokk received an unannounced visit from his father. A servant brought the older Kall into the study where Merokk had been answering personal messages from their homeworld.

“Father.” Merokk stood and gestured at the chair facing his desk. Once they were both seated, it became obvious this wasn’t a pleasant social call. His father looked angry, disturbed, and deep in thought. It was a while before he finally spoke.

“We have a situation to deal with, son.” Pentak narrowed his thick brows and met Merokk’s questioning eyes. “I’ve just learned that your wife is an imposter.”

* * *

No windows. No sunlight for days. No human—or Kall—contact. Fiona feared she would go crazy if she spent another hour locked inside this strange room in the basement of the mansion she shared with Merokk. It disturbed her that such a room existed in the first place, but she didn’t dwell on it long. Most of her time was spent despairing over her ruined relationship with Merokk and fearing for her mother’s life.

A few days ago—how many she couldn’t say—she’d come home from lunch with Layla to find her husband waiting quietly in the great room. In an eerily calm voice, he’d informed her that the real Betsy Carson had been located in Vermont and was currently being held on charges of treason. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?” he’d asked.

Betsy had summoned all her courage and said, “I’m so sorry, Merokk. M-my real name is Fiona. I did it for my mother—so she could be safe after the war. Please understand I had no choice.”

“We all have choices, Fiona.”

What happened next broke her heart anew each time she thought about it. Merokk had thrown her over his shoulder and carried her down to the basement, ignoring her pleas for forgiveness and mercy and tossing her onto the small bed in this prison-room. He’d turned around and left her alone without a word, disregarding her like she meant nothing to him. Didn’t he know how much she loved him? Hadn’t they been happy for the last few months? Instead of listening to her side of the story in full detail, he’d locked her away. Would he ever let her out?

Someone shoved a tray of food through a slot near the bottom of the door every couple of hours. Fiona was grateful she hadn’t been entirely forgotten, but she’d barely eaten a thing since that fateful day. Her stomach twisted as she thought of how much she hated stupid Betsy Carson. Pretending to be the president’s daughter hadn’t been as painful as she’d feared it would be. Sure, she wished she could’ve seen her mother and that Merokk would call her by her real name, but other than that it had been a wonderful couple of months. Yes, almost perfect.

Fiona spent hours staring at the walls. Sometimes she curled up under the covers on the bed. Other times she paced the floor or rocked insanely in the corner. Sorrow consumed her, dragging her deeper into despair, underneath the surface of a cold, black sea.

We all have choices, Fiona.

He’d never had to care for a sick mother and live in fear because there wasn’t enough medicine to go around. She wanted to hate him for leaving her alone in her sadness, but she couldn’t summon up an ounce of hatred. Mostly, she missed him. Sleeping in the bed without his warm body next to hers was torture. If she had paper and pencil she would write a note to slip on a food tray, but her room was sparse. There was a dim circular light attached to one wall, a bed, a toilet, and a sink. She felt dirty, inside and out, especially each time she considered what Merokk thought of her. Maybe he believed she was no better than a whore.

Little one.
What she wouldn’t give to hear those two words rumble from his throat as he gazed tenderly into her eyes. Would she ever be his little one again?

A noise at the door pulled her back to reality. The slot opened and a tray of food was pushed through by a pair of female Kall hands, no doubt one of the servants who’d become her friend. A small bag was pushed in behind the tray before the slot closed again. Fiona sprang to her feet and rushed toward the bag. Inside it she found soap, a toothbrush and toothpaste, washcloths, undergarments, and a fresh outfit—a flowing black skirt and a red blouse. Ignoring the food, she stripped her dirty clothes off and rushed toward the sink with the soap and washcloth. A few days ago she was taking blissful baths in the Jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom. Now she was grateful for a goddamn sink bath.

Minutes later, Fiona felt like a new person, on the outside at least. Inside she was still the twisted little liar who’d continuously deceived a husband she’d grown to love. She sat on the bed and combed fingers through her hair and refastened it into a ponytail. She waited and waited, praying to anyone who might listen for Merokk to forgive her. She recalled how much he hated lies and cringed as a vision of the strap hanging on their bedroom wall flashed in her mind. It was the one mistake he’d told her he would punish swiftly and severely, yet he hadn’t. She supposed this was much worse. What she wouldn’t give to have him whip her and forgive her—how perverse was that? These thoughts took her deeper under the black sea to a place so dark she didn’t care if he used his fists, a place so dark she wished he would. Anything as long as he talked to her again, touched her and brought her back into his world.

She curled up under the covers and closed her eyes, knowing if she drifted off, her dreams would torment her as much as her thoughts did during waking hours.

The basement room had become her personal hell.

* * *

Merokk gazed at the image of the real Betsy Carson on his communicator screen with loathing. The traitor looked just like his lovely, fraudulent wife. He bent his head lower to get a closer look at the First Daughter’s eyes. As blue as the oceans of his homeworld, just like Fiona's.

Fiona Lockhart. The imposter he’d been married to for months had a name.

He wanted to hate her, but the emotion couldn’t be forced no matter how worked up and angry he felt over her deception. He couldn’t even think straight enough to deal with her yet, so he kept her locked up in the basement. When he’d commissioned the house shortly after his betrothal to a human woman he’d yet to meet, he’d had the prison-room built as insurance. If his bride didn’t cooperate, he’d planned to keep her under lock and key until she came to her senses. Now the room served to protect Fiona from his wrath. Until he calmed down enough face her, she would remain alone and out of his immediate reach.

You’re my whole world, little one
.

The tender words once spoken haunted him now with every aching breath. He took another drink of his wine and cursed. Why couldn’t Fiona have trusted him enough to reveal her true identity after the first weeks of their marriage? Surely she didn’t believe he’d cast her away like she meant nothing to him. Did she really think so little of him? He understood she’d been coerced, and those who orchestrated the deception would pay dearly. Two American officials from New York and their minions. President Carson was lucky he had to remain in power for appearances or he’d find himself being quietly prosecuted in a Kall court alongside his daughter.

Five days had passed since Pentak’s tragic visit. Five days since Merokk had held Fiona in his arms. He was hollow inside, and no amount of drink could fill the void in his heart, though he poured himself another glass of wine, worrying over the future with a heavy heart. Originally, his father had offered to have Betsy and Fiona quietly switched. The few who knew about Betsy’s capture in Vermont could have been easily silenced. But the thought of his wife being shipped back to New York Settlement was one he couldn’t bear. Not just because he knew those settlements were hellholes, but because the little thing had grown on him during these past few months. No, switching her with a stranger wasn’t an option. The real Betsy Carson would be tried and sentenced in a Kall court. It was public now, the scandal smoothed over by Pentak, who claimed he requested that Merokk marry a cousin of Betsy’s instead at the last minute after Betsy was caught sabotaging a Kall ship. Lies to cover up lies to cover up lies.

You’re my whole world, little one.

Merokk took a deep breath, assessing his mental condition. He decided to fetch Fiona from the basement soon. He couldn’t leave her there forever, and keeping her locked up didn’t solve anything. Although his anger toward her still burned white hot, he felt in control of his actions. His thoughts swimming, he downed a third and a fourth glass of wine, and another and another until he lost count. Then, for the first time since his days as a new, undisciplined warrior, he passed out drunk on the floor in a sick, dreamless state of despair.