Surrender (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Fiona slid off the bed and stretched her muscles, reaching her arms straight up and standing on her tiptoes until the position became unbearable. She smoothed her hands over the wrinkles on her blouse and skirt, but it proved useless. She snorted to herself. What did it matter? No one was going to see her like this anyway.

Her eyes danced around the room. A clock would be nice. A calendar. A fucking window. But she had nothing to help her determine the time of day. It could be midnight or noontime for all she knew. Was Merokk sleeping? Dreaming sweet dreams or nightmares similar to those tormenting Fiona until she awoke screaming bloody murder? She hoped he was as miserable as she was—a nasty thought she couldn’t squash.

Frustrated, hurt, worried, and angry, she sat on the edge of the bed cross-legged. She wished she could turn off her brain like a light switch. The wait would be so much easier.

The wait.

What if there was no wait? What if this prison room was her new home? She brought her knees up, hugging them to her chest as she considered this horrible possibility. Her mind drifted back under the cold, black sea that had become all too familiar, and she stared at the white ceiling. Religion had always been Janie’s thing, but maybe if Fiona prayed loud enough, a higher being would come to her aide. She recalled how much she’d hated being dragged to church and Sunday school as a child. Her mother had attended a little church where the preacher screamed week after week about the sins of mankind being responsible for all sorts of worldwide calamities.

A noise. She glanced in the direction of the door and gasped. Speechless, she swallowed hard and gazed directly at Merokk. His massive form took up the whole doorway, and as he stepped farther inside, his strong presence caused equal amounts of dread and relief to mix in her stomach.

He looked tired and unkempt. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and his clothing was as wrinkled as hers. Perhaps he did share in her misery. A girl could hope, especially when her fate rested in his hands.

Fiona edged off the bed slowly and stood, waiting in front of him for a reaction—any reaction. Perhaps he would throw her out on the street or turn around and leave her locked in this hell forever, or maybe he’d kill her. She didn’t know what to expect, and the uncertainty drove her mad with fear. Finally he spoke.

“You always smell cold when you’re afraid. I don’t like it. Not now.” He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded distant, detached from the world. Fiona didn’t reply, she simply waited…and waited. He looked away from her, and his eyes darted around the room. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed acid.

“Fiona.” He was staring at her again, and hearing him say her name for the first time broke her in pieces. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to stifle a sob, but it ripped from her throat anyway, and a few tears followed, rolling fast down her cheeks. He closed the distance between them and gathered her in his strong arms. “Fiona.” He repeated her name again, his warm lips brushing against her ear. “Let’s get you out of here.”

* * *

Merokk felt like an emotional time bomb, and he loathed his loss of self-control. Maybe he hadn’t waited long enough to free her from the room. One moment he was calm, having convinced himself that Fiona had had no choice but to deceive him for all those months. But in the next moment, he was livid at her for playing him for a fool and not trusting him with her secret. After a few weeks of marriage, she should’ve come to him and confessed. Would she have really pretended to be Betsy Carson for the rest of their lives?

Lies. Their marriage had been built upon lies. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. Wives were considered possessions, and he was still her master. Such was the Kall way. Only death could tear them apart, and killing her was an option he’d never entertain, no matter what crimes she committed against him. He took a deep breath and leveled his gaze on Fiona. She sat on the edge of their bed, her head lowered. Holding her in his arms moments ago had been nice. He’d missed her terribly.

“We both owe my father a great deal of thanks. He smoothed the situation over between our people. He made it look like he requested I marry you instead of Betsy Carson at the last minute. Records have been forged to make you appear as a wealthy cousin to Betsy. All the loose ends have been tied. You don’t need to worry about the details.” Merokk began to pace the floor as his anger rose.

“What happens now?” She peered up at him through her thick lashes.

“I should take you back to that room,” he responded, halting to loom over her on the bed. He shouldn’t have been tender with her when he’d retrieved her from the locked room. He cursed himself for showing weakness. She was a female—a human female, the spoils of a bloody war. To his shock, she rose to her feet, craning her head up to meet his eyes.

“There was a Kall in my settlement who carried a hatchet around and lopped off the head of anyone who caused the slightest problem. My mother wasn’t well. She saw things, she talked to herself, and sometimes she screamed for no reason. I lived in fear every day that she’d have a mental lapse at the wrong place and time and her head would be added to the pile. I agreed to marry a stranger—a Kall—to see her safe. I was warned her life would be endangered if I revealed my true identity, so I lied. I lied to you for months, but only about my name. All the happiness we found together—that was real. At first I hated myself for loving you, but I finally accepted it. If you can’t understand the position I was in, then go ahead and lock me up again.” Her eyebrows had drawn together, and her face was flushed. Taken aback by her boldness, Merokk glared into her defiant eyes as he processed her words. One problem remained and bothered him to no end, a problem that made him feel weak with need for a woman.

“All these weeks, all these months, and you didn’t feel you could trust me enough to share your secret? Did you really think I would see you or your mother harmed?” His voice was clipped, anger masking the wounds he nursed over her mistrust.

“It was a chance I couldn’t take.”

He turned and headed for the door. Craning his neck around just before leaving, he said, “You are not to set foot outside this house.” Merokk rushed to his office, where he reset the codes for outgoing messages. Fiona wouldn’t be talking to anyone without his knowledge.

He ran a hand through his cropped black hair and cursed. Damn her for deceiving him. Damn her for loving him. Yes, she’d said the words humans like to say—sort of.
At first I hated myself for loving you, but I finally accepted it
. Her confession echoed through his mind, tearing up his world anew. It would be so much simpler if she hated him, and likewise if he hated her. Merokk could be cruel. It was easy to be cruel.

Days passed and nothing changed. Fiona kept her distance from him as much as possible, but he required her presence for meals and demanded she share his bed. Merokk felt as if he was slowly dying from the inside out, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Trapped in a downward spiral, he lost himself in his menial ambassador duties, trained extra hours on the Kall military base, consumed far too much wine, and used his wife for his pleasure only. Anger had poisoned him, and he tried to move past it. He’d observed her kind long enough to know humans forgave more easily than Kall. His kind was more likely to seek revenge and find a perverse sort of peace in the suffering or death of an offender. He was smart enough to understand her side of the story—he only wished the fucking anger would evaporate as easily as mist under the rising sun.

Forgive and forget. He’d heard a human say this during a speech once. It was a beautiful concept, but it couldn’t be forced no matter how much he tried. Something held him back, some fleeting emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. He’d forgiven her for little things before, but the size of this particular transgression blocked out all rational thought.

Fiona shocked him one night by kneeling naked at his feet in the bedroom, holding the strap in her upturned palms like a sacred offering. “Please. Punish me. Punish me so we can move on. I just want you to forgive me.”

He noticed the trembling of her hands, and his gut wrenched. He steeled himself and lifted her up, tossing the strap to the floor. “I decide when you’re to be punished, Fiona. You’re not to touch the strap unless I command you to fetch it.” The dismay in her eyes almost caused him to falter, but he regained his strong posture and glared back. “Go pick it up and hang it back on the wall.” He released her arms and nodded at the strap lying on the floor.

Fiona nodded and obeyed, returning the implement to its proper place. She turned and walked slowly to the center of the bedroom and stopped, twisting her fingers nervously in front of her.

He refused to show weakness. He was her master. Merokk gestured for her to kneel at his feet. She sank to her knees and rested her gaze on his boots. This position always turned him on. Good thing too, because right now he needed to assert his authority over her. He pulled his large, erect cock out of his pants. “Suck,” he ordered.

She rose up and took his length in her warm mouth. He’d taught her how to please him orally, and she was an expert at deep throating him until he released his seed down her throat. Her hands reached up to stroke his base while she sucked and stroked with her mouth. It was heaven and hell. Heaven because it felt so fucking good, and hell because he knew she ached for a gentle touch or a kind word. He came hard, groaning loud and fisting his hands in her hair as he spurted into her. She swallowed every last drop, just like he’d taught her to.

Good girl
. He almost said it but stopped in time.
Dammit.
A new anger coursed through his veins, but he wasn’t upset with Fiona. This anger was directed solely at himself. Frustrated and a bit horrified by his own actions, he put his cock away and told his wife to go to bed. He stormed from the room and headed for his office, seeking solitude.

Pentak visited the next day to discuss a few points the High Council wanted the ambassadors to be aware of. It was nothing his father couldn’t have told him through a message. Merokk figured the older Kall was curious about his home-life situation with Fiona, and this infuriated him to no end. Pentak surprised him by offering unsolicited advice as he was leaving.

“Kall don’t speak of love the way humans do. It’s almost a pointless concept to us since most of our marriages are arranged. But love is possible. I came to love your mother,” the old Kall said.

“Why are you telling me this?” Merokk asked, annoyed by his father’s intrusion.

“Because it’s obvious you love this girl, otherwise you would’ve let me switch her with the real Betsy.” The old Kall stopped for a moment before the door. “Contact me when you’ve regained your senses.”

And regain his senses Merokk did. He put away the wine and took a long, reflective walk around the city. He replayed the last few months over and over in his mind, from the first moment he’d looked into Fiona’s pretty eyes until the moment he’d spied on her standing at the window after breakfast this morning, a prisoner in her own home. When he imagined life without her, he couldn’t breathe. When he imagined switching her with the real Betsy, he fell into a black pit of despair.

He cared for Fiona, so deeply and intensely it could only be love. What a fool he’d been to punish her with indifference. Not just a fool, but a monster. His only saving grace was that he hadn’t gone so far as to physically punish her for the lie she believed saved her mother’s life. If he’d have taken the strap to her for that, he’d never forgive himself.

Forgive himself? What a joke. How could he hope to find any internal peace if he couldn’t forgive another being, particularly the sweetest, prettiest little redheaded human he’d ever laid eyes on?

With a spring in his step, he made haste for his house. He had serious amends to make. He hoped it wasn’t too late.

Chapter Eight

Facing Merokk’s accusing eyes each day was torture. Fiona dreaded both mealtimes and the night hours, the two circumstances in which an encounter with her husband couldn’t be avoided. Two weeks had passed since the fateful day she’d returned home to discover her secrets were no longer secrets. He barely spoke a word to her, unless it was to issue a command.
Don’t leave this house. Be on time for dinner. Have the servants fetch more wine. Go wait in the bedroom.

Surprisingly, Merokk had yet to harm a hair on her body. His clipped words cut deep, and she often wished he’d punish her physically instead. But he’d refused even when she’d asked him to take the strap to her. The worst torture came at night when he took her for his pleasure only, his eyes cold and his voice devoid of any warmth. They couldn’t continue like this forever, could they?

Fiona cleared her head of these sorrowful thoughts and peered out the front window. The stone wall surrounding the mansion prevented her from seeing into the street from the first level, so she watched the flow of airships in the sky. Most belonged to the Kall, but a few bore the American flag symbol. Despite how miserable her little life had become, she drew comfort from gazing out at the world beyond. From their high bedroom window, she could glimpse much of the city. Streets lined with cherry blossoms and even some of the old DC monuments that hadn’t been destroyed in the war. The Washington Monument had been toppled at some point during the fighting, but a much taller replica now stood in its place. What she wouldn’t give to leave the house and venture into the streets to explore the postwar progress…but Merokk wouldn’t let her walk in the yard.

She missed Layla and the company of Merokk’s friends and their wives. They’d entertained company at least twice a week, but not anymore. The servants still spoke to her kindly, but only if her husband wasn’t nearby. It was an isolated existence. She’d traded the basement prison for a prison aboveground.

The clock chimed six times, and Fiona hurried to the dining room. Merokk glanced at her with an unreadable expression. She smiled at him and found her seat. She’d decided to stop apologizing at every turn. As far as she was concerned, she’d had no choice but to accept Crooked Teeth and Pudgy Man’s offer all those months ago. Maybe she should’ve confided her secret to Merokk at some point during their marriage, but it was too late for that now. At least her mother was still safe somewhere in the Caribbean, according to Merokk. She didn’t have proof, but she doubted he’d lie about such a thing, especially given his extreme distaste for untruths.

Two servants brought in platters of food, and Fiona suffered through dinner in silence. And suffer she did. Each time she glanced at Merokk, she caught him staring with a thoughtful expression. Toward the end of the meal, she’d become so unnerved by his behavior that she couldn’t wait to seek solace in their empty bedroom for a few hours.

“May I be excused?” she asked, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

“No, you may not.” He continued eating, and Fiona had no choice but to remain seated. For the first time in weeks, Merokk refused wine after the meal. Instead, he requested coffee for both of them.

“No wine? How will you bear touching me tonight if you’re not intoxicated?” Fiona couldn’t resist the taunt. She’d been on her best behavior lately, but witnessing him deviate from his usual habits caused her to lose her temper. Merokk took a long sip of coffee and met her gaze.

“Watch your mouth,” he said, but his voice wasn’t as clipped as usual. Something was going on, and Fiona couldn’t help but be curious. Normally he dismissed her from the table long before he left. She suspected he downed a few cups of wine before joining her in bed, because he smelled heavily of the drink each night.

Fiona sipped her coffee but barely tasted it, though it was at full strength because she didn’t add cream or sugar. She’d be up late now and have her husband to blame. She hoped caffeine didn’t affect Kall physiology the same as it did humans’. Would he make her into his plaything all night long?

“When you’re finished you may go prepare for bed. We’re calling it a night early.”

“Why?” Fiona didn’t like the sound of this. What the hell was going on?

He sighed heavily. “Don’t test my patience, little one. Go. Now.” He gestured toward the door. Perplexed, Fiona left without another word.

Upstairs in the master bathroom, she indulged in a quick bath and slipped into a silk nightgown. She knew Merokk’s decision to call it a night early didn’t mean they would skip sex. Would it be different if he was sober?

She brushed her hair out and slipped under the cool sheets. Her husband didn’t make her wait long. Frozen, she waited for his instructions, the clipped commands that drove a spike through her heart. He stood tall in the center of the room. As always, he wore a simple ensemble of gray and black, the customary colors of his people. Underneath his clothes was the body of a sculpted and impossibly large Kall warrior. Muscles upon muscles. It was no wonder he called her little one.

Little one.
He’d called her that in the dining room—for the first time in two weeks. Her heart skipped a beat. How had his sudden use of this endearment slipped past her?

“Stand up,” he said as he unbuttoned the neck of his shirt. Fiona eased out of bed and stood on her feet, though her legs felt like jelly. “Good girl. Now take your nightgown off. Panties too. Everything.”

Good girl
? Another endearment. Normally he bent her over the bed and used her body. No talking. No preliminaries. Hope sprung to life in her chest as Fiona slipped her clothing off, letting it fall in a pool of silk at her feet.

“Things are going to change between us.” He threw his shirt to the floor and approached her confidently, wearing only his black pants. Holding her chin between his fingers, he peered longingly into her eyes. “Even though I hate that you lied to me, I understand why you did it. I won’t hold it against you anymore. I’m done punishing you—done punishing us. It’s in the past. I forgive you.”

Fiona smiled up at him through bleary eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, then promptly swallowed the lump in her throat. Feeling his warmth after so many days of coldness wreaked havoc on her emotions. She didn’t cry easily—she hated feeling weak—but he seemed to bring out both the best and the worst pieces of her humanity. No one else had ever affected her this way. As cheesy as it sounded, Merokk was her one-in-a-million.

He dropped her chin and slid a finger between her pussy lips, and his touch prompted a few tears to fall. He kissed the moisture away from her cheeks as he circled her clit, spreading her juices around and causing her to shudder against his hand. “Who’s your master?” he rasped in her ear.

“You are.” She didn’t have to think about it. She was his, for always.

Merokk inhaled the intoxicating scent of Fiona. His wife. The smell of her hair, her skin, and her arousal drove him wild with desire. He slipped a second finger into her pussy, pumping her hard enough to lift her off her feet. She circled her arms around him, moaning and whispering his name like a prayer.

“Tell me again. Who’s your master?”

“You are.”

He pushed her against the bed, letting her fall back as he stripped off his pants. He knelt on the floor and buried his face between her thighs. Wrapping her legs around his neck, she rubbed her center against his delving tongue. He’d missed licking her pussy and bringing her to release with his mouth. Splaying her folds apart with his fingers, he drew back and took in the sight of her smooth pink parts.
Beautiful.

He covered one finger with her juices and prodded her shy, puckering entrance below, slipping the moist tip into her tight hole. She gasped but didn’t struggle against his ministrations, allowing him to pump deeper with each thrust. He’d fingered her ass plenty of times before for fun and for punishment, but she always felt as tight as that very first time. He blew lightly against her sex and ran his tongue over her clit, teasing her with inconsistent laps until she groaned and thrust her center greedily toward him. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow at her, his finger keeping momentum as he continued to work her ass.

“If you don’t hold still, little one, I’m going to tie you up—or punish you. Or both.” His voice was teasing, and his eyes danced with mischief.

She gasped and stilled, probably shocked that he could be so playful. From his vantage point, he saw her full breasts heaving as she tried to catch her breath. His cock was rock hard, and he couldn’t wait much longer to have her. He pulled his finger from her ass and moved up on the bed, hovering over his little wife. He pushed her legs farther apart, far enough that he glimpsed the beautiful insides of her pussy. Reaching down, he rubbed the flat of his palm against her wet lips, grinding his hand against her but giving her no real relief. When she lifted her hips and pushed back against him, he gave her pussy a sound smack with his hand.

“Oh!” Fiona gasped, and immediately brought her thighs together. She reached between her legs in an attempt to prevent another slap to her tender area.

“Fiona, I asked you to remain still, and you disobeyed. Move your hands and spread your legs apart now. Don’t make me ask twice.” His voice was firm, but his warm eyes urged her to trust him.

“Yes, sir,” she said, spreading herself wide for his gaze again. She fisted her hands in the covers at her side.

“Good girl.” Merokk trailed his fingers along her thigh and shifted closer. He slid one digit between her pussy lips and spread her moisture around until her folds glistened to perfection. Then he forced her lips open with one hand, splaying her apart so her clit protruded out, swollen and hungry for attention. Raising his free hand up, he smacked her there with his flattened fingers. She drew in a quick breath but remained still. He glanced up and discovered she’d closed her eyes and was biting her bottom lip. He gave her ten more sound slaps, centering the blows on her clit and watching it swell up before his eyes. After the last one, he flicked his tongue across her punished parts, savoring her taste and loving how big her clit felt.

Playtime was over
.
His ache to sink inside her was officially unbearable. Pressing her legs back, he nudged his cock against her entrance and met her eyes before thrusting inside in one quick motion. He gripped her hips and pulled out almost the whole way before slamming into her again.
So wet, so warm, so perfect.
“Mine,” he rasped, and set a relentless pace as he thrust in and out. He fucked her hard until her pussy contracting around him pushed him over the edge. He spent his seed deep inside her, holding her tight until his cock finished pulsing and the last wave of his release dissipated.

Fiona reached for him, and he gathered her up in his arms, cradling her on his lap on the bed. She smiled lazily up at him. “I do love you.”

He stared at her in disbelief at first and then gave himself a mental shake. She belonged to him, no matter what feelings either of them had for the other. Even if they both hated one another, she would still be his forever. But he didn’t hate her, not even close. He would die a thousand agonizing deaths to see her safe and happy. “I love you too, little one.”