E1.”
Paige stared at them, then turned to Zekin as though she expected him to provide an explanation.
Prior to falling asleep last night, he’d pondered what to say. Hours later, when he’d awakened, he was still searching for the right words.
They continued to escape him. On a sigh, he spoke the truth. “We don’t know how to use it.”
Chapter Eight
Paige heard what he’d said. However, she couldn’t figure out why he’d tell her that or bring the device to the table if it wasn’t going to do her any good. She knew she should have asked him to explain but was afraid to. As odd as everything had been yesterday, it had only grown stranger this morning. If it was morning.
There was no way to tell. None of the pleasure slaves looked sleepy, with the customary dark shadows or bags under their eyes. Their complexions and bodies were as flawless as mannequins. No blemishes. No cellulite. No lingering marks from repeated whippings. Not even a mole out of place. Just those awful markings on the insides of their wrists that revealed their genetic identity.
They sat in clusters at various tables, as though they were colleagues or part of a clique. Yet none of them spoke. A female slave, apparently finished with her meal, stood without saying a word to the others. She turned too quickly, her hand brushing her metal cup. Paige started at its clang on the floor, that clatter ringing through the space.
Those at her table and the ones beyond it didn’t miss a beat as they continued to chew or lift their cups. Not a one of them looked in her direction or offered to help retrieve the container that had rolled away, stopping finally at a male slave’s foot. He was beyond hot, golden skin, black hair, violet eyes, a shadow of beard on his firm jaw—and toes that hadn’t budged in the least at the cup hitting them or the female now trying to retrieve it. Like all the others, he concentrated on his meal as though it was his only allowable behavior…or he might not get another anytime soon.
A trio of men entered the dining area. They were nearly identical in appearance to Zekin and the two men across the table from him and Paige. This new group also wore camouflage gear and unreadable expressions, the same as the slaves.
Where in the hell was this place? How had everyone come to be so different from the people Paige had known in Seat— What in the hell is that?
The wall above them vibrated, making a low groaning sound. The twirling monster had returned, bashing a slightly smaller creature into the pod. Milky liquid spilled from its wounds.
Blood?
Whatever it might be, it soon dissolved in the water. The creature’s fin protruded from the monster’s mouth as the thing spun away.
Afraid to see more, Paige focused on the device. About the size of an iPhone, it was thicker, resembling a TV remote, its screen dark. Its usefulness apparently in doubt. So many awful questions flooded Paige’s mind, her throat tightened, not letting any of them out.
Eeete returned with two trays of food, placing one in front of Paige. What looked like hard-boiled eggs—except they were smaller and perfectly round—wobbled in the bowl that held them. On a plate next to it was a hunk of what might have been bread in a strange purple shade. Thankfully, the drink looked similar to the one Eeete had given Paige last night.
Thirsty, Paige drank it down, relieved it had the same sweet apple flavor. She wiped her mouth off with her fingers. “Thanks.”
Eeete took the empty cup and gave Paige another from the second tray. Without comment, she went to one of the tables where the other slaves sat. They didn’t acknowledge her presence as she joined them and dined on her breakfast.
“Go on,” Zekin encouraged, easing the tray a bit closer to Paige. “You need to eat.”
She needed answers to everything that worried her but wasn’t yet ready to face the truth his response might bring. Lifting one of the egg-like things, she asked,
Paige stared at them, then turned to Zekin as though she expected him to provide an explanation.
Prior to falling asleep last night, he’d pondered what to say. Hours later, when he’d awakened, he was still searching for the right words.
They continued to escape him. On a sigh, he spoke the truth. “We don’t know how to use it.”
Chapter Eight
Paige heard what he’d said. However, she couldn’t figure out why he’d tell her that or bring the device to the table if it wasn’t going to do her any good. She knew she should have asked him to explain but was afraid to. As odd as everything had been yesterday, it had only grown stranger this morning. If it was morning.
There was no way to tell. None of the pleasure slaves looked sleepy, with the customary dark shadows or bags under their eyes. Their complexions and bodies were as flawless as mannequins. No blemishes. No cellulite. No lingering marks from repeated whippings. Not even a mole out of place. Just those awful markings on the insides of their wrists that revealed their genetic identity.
They sat in clusters at various tables, as though they were colleagues or part of a clique. Yet none of them spoke. A female slave, apparently finished with her meal, stood without saying a word to the others. She turned too quickly, her hand brushing her metal cup. Paige started at its clang on the floor, that clatter ringing through the space.
Those at her table and the ones beyond it didn’t miss a beat as they continued to chew or lift their cups. Not a one of them looked in her direction or offered to help retrieve the container that had rolled away, stopping finally at a male slave’s foot. He was beyond hot, golden skin, black hair, violet eyes, a shadow of beard on his firm jaw—and toes that hadn’t budged in the least at the cup hitting them or the female now trying to retrieve it. Like all the others, he concentrated on his meal as though it was his only allowable behavior…or he might not get another anytime soon.
A trio of men entered the dining area. They were nearly identical in appearance to Zekin and the two men across the table from him and Paige. This new group also wore camouflage gear and unreadable expressions, the same as the slaves.
Where in the hell was this place? How had everyone come to be so different from the people Paige had known in Seat— What in the hell is that?
The wall above them vibrated, making a low groaning sound. The twirling monster had returned, bashing a slightly smaller creature into the pod. Milky liquid spilled from its wounds.
Blood?
Whatever it might be, it soon dissolved in the water. The creature’s fin protruded from the monster’s mouth as the thing spun away.
Afraid to see more, Paige focused on the device. About the size of an iPhone, it was thicker, resembling a TV remote, its screen dark. Its usefulness apparently in doubt. So many awful questions flooded Paige’s mind, her throat tightened, not letting any of them out.
Eeete returned with two trays of food, placing one in front of Paige. What looked like hard-boiled eggs—except they were smaller and perfectly round—wobbled in the bowl that held them. On a plate next to it was a hunk of what might have been bread in a strange purple shade. Thankfully, the drink looked similar to the one Eeete had given Paige last night.
Thirsty, Paige drank it down, relieved it had the same sweet apple flavor. She wiped her mouth off with her fingers. “Thanks.”
Eeete took the empty cup and gave Paige another from the second tray. Without comment, she went to one of the tables where the other slaves sat. They didn’t acknowledge her presence as she joined them and dined on her breakfast.
“Go on,” Zekin encouraged, easing the tray a bit closer to Paige. “You need to eat.”
She needed answers to everything that worried her but wasn’t yet ready to face the truth his response might bring. Lifting one of the egg-like things, she asked,
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