for her washboard and homemade detergent. At least those
she could use without the technological barrier.
Realizing she wasn’t going to figure this out without
some help, Hallie placed the dirty sheets on the counter
and left the room. She might not be able to handle the
laundry situation but she could definitely tidy up the rest of
his quarters.
Except cleaning the apartment didn’t take very long. In
less than two hours, she’d dusted and wiped every surface
and tidied every spot that could possibly be tidied. She’d
even found clean sheets in the drawers along the bottom of
the bed to replace the ones she’d ripped free.
At least she felt as if she was contributing to the cost of
her upkeep. It wasn’t much but it was something. Maybe
Vicious would allow her to take in some ironing or other
side work to put them on a more even playing field. It
would put her mind at ease to know she wasn’t just
leeching off him.
Wondering what to do now, Hallie entered the living
room and sat down on the couch. She quickly popped right
back onto her feet. The upholstery fabric felt strange and
unnatural, most likely some synthetic abomination. She
favored the simpler fabrics of her furniture at home.
Though worn and frayed in spots, they were natural and
real, not shiny and squeaky like this stuff.
She made her way to the bathroom, grabbed a towel
from the cabinet and returned to the spacious living area.
As she draped the towel over the corner cushion, Hallie
cast a glance around the open layout of Vicious’ private
quarters. Her family’s entire home would fit in the living
room, kitchen and formal dining area. The stark difference
from her very nearly hand-to-mouth upbringing and the
comfort Vicious provided had never been clearer.
This morning when he’d insisted she eat all that food,
she’d been simultaneously annoyed by his bossiness and
touched that he even cared. At home, only her brother
Jarek gave her a second thought. He always remembered
her birthday and often tried to keep a little of his dinner or
breakfast set aside for her. Her father and Claren thought
of her as their servant. There was never a kind word or a
considerate thought from either of them. Bernie hadn’t
been much better but Hallie understood why her sister had
that selfish streak. When you had absolutely nothing, it
was so easy to be miserly with the little bit that was yours.
All this time, Hallie had feared the Grab and this
supposedly evil lifestyle. Her family and village had
practically indoctrinated her with twisted tales of sexual
slavery and worse. She’d been just as bad, secretly
judging those women who seemed excited by the prospect
of a ruthless sky warrior stealing them away.
What she’d shared with Vicious wasn’t violent or
horrific. She wasn’t quite sure about that restraint business
but everything else had been amazing. He seemed to care
deeply for her. The bossiness and wanting to master her
might mellow in time. Even if it didn’t, she preferred
Vicious’ style of domination to the backhanded slaps and
painful hair pulling her father had so often employed.
Hallie sat down on the towel-covered cushion and
made a face. The couch made the squeakiest noises as she
got comfortable. She picked up the small tablet-like
device on the end table and tapped the screen. She studied
the options and chose the library. Her eyes widened in
awe at the realization she had thousands of books at her
fingertips.
Back home, their village library had less than two
hundred texts available and all of them conforming to the
rigidly enforced morality standards.
These
books would
never have been allowed. Her finger trembled as she
brushed it across the screen and browsed everything
available to her now. She didn’t even know where to start.
Everything looked so good and so interesting.
She’d gotten a quarter of the way into a mystery novel
when a strange chime interrupted her. At first, she didn’t
know what it was. She set aside the tablet and rose from
the couch. Glancing around the living area, she tried to
figure out where the noise had originated. The chimes
sounded a second time and she realized it was the door.
Why not knock?
She crossed the living room, paused at
the entryway table to grab the shirt Vicious had lent her
and quickly slipped into it. She spotted the peephole on
the door but it was much too high for her to use. A little
embarrassed by her half-naked state and on edge with
uncertainty, she punched the unlock key and pulled on the
door handle. She opened the door just enough to peer into
the hallway.
Her gaze fell on a broad chest encased in an all-black
military uniform similar to the one Vicious wore. She
lifted her gaze to the face of her unknown caller and barely
managed to stifle a gasp. He was tall like Vicious but
much leaner, and his face—
Oh god, his face! The poor man had been the victim of a
horrific slashing. His left eye had been completely gouged
out, it seemed, and his eyelids had been fused in the
crudest way. Two scars arced out from his eye wound, the
paler, gnarly lines like lightning bolts across his cheek and
temple.
The ugliness of his scars surprised her. Vicious had
many scars on his body but none like this. All of her
mate’s scars were fine and light. No doubt he’d benefited
from the best medical technology and surgical techniques,
but this man? Oh no. It looked as if one of the primitive
medical men in her village had gotten hold of him.
She noticed his stiff posture and tight jaw. He looked as
if he’d steeled himself for her scream. Not wanting to hurt
his feelings, she smiled and said, “Hello.”
His lips curved in a surprised grin, his face not so scary
now. “Hello.” He leaned to the side to try to get a better
look at her but she remained hidden behind the door. He
chuckled and shook his head. “You are nothing like I
expected.”
She gripped the door and frowned. “I don’t
understand.”
“Sorry.” He held out his hand, the fingers calloused and
scarred. “I’m Terror. Vicious is my oldest friend and I just
had to see the woman he’d Grabbed.”
Terror? Sweet heavens, who in the world had named
these men?
“Hallie.” She poked her hand through the gap and shook
his much larger one. “It’s nice to meet you, Terror.” She
let her gaze drop to the tray he held. “I see you’ve brought
me lunch.”
He nodded. “I intercepted the corporal Vicious
entrusted with your lunch. May I bring it in?”
She hesitated. Terror seemed nice enough but he could
be lying through his teeth. “Vicious wouldn’t approve. He
was very clear on his instructions this morning.”
Instead of getting angry or pressing her to change her
mind, Terror simply nodded and extended the tray. “Here
you go.”
She eyed the tray and his long arm. If he wasn’t
Vicious’ friend, and had bad intentions, the second she
opened the door he could lunge at her. She shook her head.
“Put the tray on the floor. Back away from the door. Turn
around and put your nose against the wall. Hands on your
head,” she added for good measure.
He looked surprised by her instructions. Laughing, he
nodded. “All right, little one.”
He did exactly as she asked. When he was safely across
the hall, she opened the door just wide enough to snatch
the tray through and quickly pulled it into the room. “It
was nice to meet you, Terror. If you’d like to come by
when Vicious is here, you’re more than welcome.
Goodbye.”
She shut the door quickly and engaged the lock. She
could hear him laughing on the other side of the door but
he didn’t knock or try to get her attention again. Tray in
hand, she backed away from the door a few steps before
pivoting and making her way to the dining room. She lifted
the lid and discovered food that looked appetizing. There
was a big salad with lots of delicious vegetables, a slab of
grilled steak, a dinner roll and some kind of cake.
But it was the handwritten note that really caught her
attention.
Try the cake. It’s delicious. V.
She picked up the slip of paper. It seemed so strange to
see such a low-tech thing among all of this extremely
advanced technology. Unable to help herself, she traced
the sharp lines of his script. She carried the paper to her
nose and inhaled deeply. There, under the smell of paper
and ink, hid the scent she’d so quickly come to recognize
as Vicious’. His woodsy soap and spicy aftershave filled
her with the sharpest sense of longing.
She sat down in the nearest chair and played with the
slip of paper. What in the world was happening to her?
One day with Vicious and she was walking around moon-
eyed! The man had chased her through the woods, tossed
her over his shoulder and carried her back to his home
like some hunter bringing back a prized kill. He’d tied her
up, done wicked things to her body and then taken her to
his bed, where he’d stolen away her virginity.
And she wouldn’t change a thing.
The thought hit her so suddenly. She went still as the
realization became clear. She was happy. For the first
time in such a very long time, she had someone to take
care of her. She’d spent an entire morning reading. When
was the last time that had happened? Oh, right. Never!
Their relationship hadn’t had the most auspicious
beginnings but things seemed to be working. He made her
laugh. He showed kindness and patience. He was
providing her with creature comforts and seemed willing
to compromise here and there. Vicious may not have been
the kind of man she’d imagined marrying but he was
definitely proving to be the kind of man she needed.
A series of shrill beeps made her jump. She hopped out
of her seat and followed the noise to the communication
console mounted on the wall of the living area. A flashing
green screen displayed the word
incoming
. She tapped the
screen and was surprised to see Terror’s face filling the
display. “Oh! Hi.”
“Hello, Hallie.” He smiled. “I realized I hadn’t asked
you if there was anything you might need. I know Vicious
is in meetings all day and you’re basically in quarantine as
a new bride. If I had to be away from my new mate on her
first day aboard a ship, I know I would feel better if my
friend looked in after her. So…?”
“Oh. Well.” She considered her needs for the moment.
Feeling a bit sheepish, she asked, “How are your laundry
skills?”
* * * * *
Vicious leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his
tired eyes. Days like this, he truly loathed his position. He
actually yearned for the heat of battle and the pain and
brutality that accompanied it. He’d rather take a plasma
blast to the balls than sift through these digital reports. A
demotion to the live-action ranks would be a welcome
change.
A knock on the door dragged his gaze away from the
frustrating screen on his tablet. He broke into a grin at the
sight of his oldest and dearest friend, Terror, striding into
his office.
“Slacking off, I see.”
“Ter! How the hell are you?” Vicious rose and hurried
around his desk to meet his friend. They grasped hands
and embraced in their traditional greeting. He whacked
Terror on the back. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you,” Terror said with his usual tight smile. The
scars that made so many cringe or glance away had no
effect on Vicious. He’d been there the day his friend had
earned them, after all. When Terror glanced around the
office, he grimaced. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to
finding you in here. I don’t know how you stand it.”
“I don’t either some days,” Vicious admitted. “Usually I
try to think about the men in the field counting on me to
represent their best interests. It makes it easier to
stomach.”
“And knowing that you get to go home to your lovely