Retribution (Kall Alien Warriors #3) - Sue Lyndon Page 0,17
strap.
She gasped and tried to back farther into the wall, but there was nowhere to go. Her stomach flipped over and over as she peered at the strap.
I intend to make her suffer.
The words he’d spoken in the courtroom came back to her now.
The general was a fierce Kall warrior, over seven feet tall and built of solid muscle. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him. How hard would he beat her and for how long?
He called out a verbal command and the door opened. He strode inside and the door immediately closed behind him, locking them in together. The room no longer felt quite as large as it had moments ago. General Zamek’s presence dominated the space, making her feel a bit claustrophobic, and she found herself struggling to take in air. He stood tall before her with an aura of cruel intent surrounding him, looking like the physical manifestation of wrath itself.
“Come here, human.” His deep voice reverberated through her.
She ought to obey him, but her legs wouldn’t budge. She stared at him as a full body tremble descended upon her.
“Please,” she whispered. “I-I need a moment.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “A moment? I’ve left you alone for eight days and now you suddenly need a moment?”
Only eight days? Apparently, she’d counted wrong.
She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t form a single word, as her mouth had gone too dry. She pressed her lips together and pushed herself out of the corner, walking around the bed on shaky legs.
She glanced up and once again peered into General Zamek’s dark eyes. He looked more forbidding than he had in the courtroom. There was something about his manner today that made her blood run cold.
Standing before him, she lowered her head and awaited his next command. Her shaking increased when he started to circle her, and she felt the heat of his gaze burning into her.
She swallowed hard and prayed this ended quickly, though she had a bad feeling he meant to drag her torment out.
His next words shocked her to her very core.
“Remove your clothing. All of it.” He came to stand before her and gave her a dark but expectant look. “When I make you bleed, I want to see it.”
“Please. Please don’t...” Her voice trailed off, and she brought her arms up and hugged herself as a sense of helplessness fell over her.
“Remove your clothing,” he snapped. His eyes flashed with barely contained fury and his grip tightened on the strap.
“Th-this wo-won’t bring her ba-back,” she stammered. “Please have mercy.”
He closed the space between them and poked her stomach hard. She glanced down to see what he was doing. “One.” He poked her again. “Two.” Another poke. He continued, poking a different spot on her stomach as he counted, until he reached, “Ten.”
Realization dawned. Ten. Michael had stabbed Shessema in the stomach ten times. She felt sick.
“Please know how sorry I am. But you must understand—I wasn’t the one who hurt her,” Layla whispered, “and I don’t condone what Michael did. Will beating me really make you feel better?”
His eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. His gaze dropped to her shirt. A second later, he grabbed the neckline and ripped the fabric from her body, shredding the garment.
“No!” she cried, jumping back. She scrambled around the bed, back to her corner, where for some absurd reason she felt safest, and tried to cover her nudity. She was wearing a bra, but still, she didn’t want to take any of her clothes off around him.
When her eyes landed on the remnants of her shirt on the floor, she almost burst into tears. She didn’t have a replacement and she doubted he would provide one. Maybe she ought to just remove the rest of her clothing, lest he rip her pants and undergarments off her body too. Given his strength, she knew he wouldn’t find it a challenge.
He rounded the bed, trapping her in the corner. “You will regret your disobedience, human, I assure you.”
“My name is Layla,” she said. “I’m a fucking person, and I didn’t have any part in what happened to your wife. This is wrong. Can’t you see how wrong this is?”
To her astonishment, his expression wavered. For a second or two, something akin to remorse shone in his dark eyes. But anger and determination soon fell back into place, and all traces of possible regret vanished. His face hardened.
“Remove your clothes,” he said, “or I will tear them from your body.”