Final Dance Part Two - Samantha Cayto Page 0,1

middle of his enormous mattress now, he felt just as small and insignificant as he had for those long decades of captivity. Little had changed, other than he could be sure that only his own thoughts would disturb him here.

He sighed and stared up at the pristine white ceiling. The muted light seeping past the edge of the curtain told him that dawn was breaking, and while no one expected him to be up with the sun and toiling away anymore, experience told him that trying to go back to sleep would prove impossible. Giving in to reality, he shoved aside the bedding and got up. It was easy to head to the bathroom, because the light in there had been on all night. Since his ‘rescue’ by these less-frightening aliens, he’d been afraid to sleep in the dark. He knew now that monsters really did lurk about, and he needed to see his surroundings clearly the moment he opened his eyes. It was embarrassing, although no one probably knew what he did. Also, no one seemed to care. When he was in his bedroom, everyone left him alone. The privacy was appreciated—but also unnerving. He couldn’t quite trust that anything was being done for his benefit. It wouldn’t surprise him if the one called Val had eyes on him through his security system.

Not that it mattered. He’d learned to accept what he couldn’t change and survive in any way possible. Suicide had only briefly touched his mind in those terrible early days. He’d been true enough to his faith to not go through with it. He’d believed—and still did—in the promise of eternal heavenly peace if he followed God’s rules. Taking his own life had not been an option then, and there was no reason to contemplate it now. Only the most chopsy of people would resent the privileged life he was currently leading. He was always warm and well-fed and had lovely clothing that he was allowed to wear, instead of the often-enforced nudity back in the castle.

No one had hit him since he’d left the horrid place, not even Merlin—although his son had come close at one point—and his body was his own. No one forced themselves inside him or used him for pleasure in other ways. For the first time in over a hundred years, his body didn’t ache or bleed. There was no reason to want to end his time on Earth, other than this persistent and nagging anxiety that threatened to swamp him every minute of every day.

He pushed down that feeling, which was particularly insistent due to his recent nightmare, and focused on the mundane. After relieving himself in the glorious effectiveness of modern plumbing, he headed for the shower. He was careful to avert his gaze as he passed the long mirror above the sink counter. Looking at himself was something he avoided as much as possible. He might not be a victim of violence anymore, but his body still bore the markings of it. There was hardly a section that didn’t contain a scar from knives, whips or pokers that had been used to bring him under his master’s control. Even when he’d capitulated, the lessons had continued, especially if he’d dared to make even the tiniest of mistakes. He was hideous in his own eyes, and because sleeping nude had become engrained in him, his battered skin was all too evident.

The coolness of the stone tile floor made his toes curl, but he refused to use the convenience of the heating system. There was something unseemly to him about pampering himself that much. Really, the room was warm enough, and soon he’d be under a spray of water that he could make as hot as he wished. And he didn’t need four shower heads… One would do nicely. He tested the temperature before getting in, putting the heat level to just shy of scalding and letting the water sluice over him. The intense heat was cleansing, washing away more than surface dirt. It was fine to spend as long as he wanted, apparently. So said Lucien—and Alun had come to depend on the man as something of a kindred spirit and a kindly mentor who helped him navigate through this often-confusing new life. Like Alun, Lucien knew what it was like to be under the control of vicious men. He understood Alun’s fears, even without him having to express them. Alun trusted the man’s advice. So, he didn’t hurry to

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