“You’re staying here!” he bit off, his voice hard and cold like steel. “Locked in and safe.”
Pivoting on his heel, he stormed out of the room, with an angry whip of his tail against the door frame.
Asshole!
I yelled in my head as the door closed, taking him out of the earshot.
Pervert.
And a brute. Despite all his fine shirts, embossed leather, and jewellery, he was no better than the least of his crew dressed in rags—a barbarian like the rest of them.
I paced the glass floor, raging inside.
I despised them all. However, the rest of the crew were mostly just one homogenous mass of sweaty bodies and leering eyes to me. Hellfire could come and burn them all en masse for all I cared.
Their captain, however, I yearned to strangle with my own hands. I wished to have his life in my control for a change, to see something else than that calm focus in his bright orange eyes.
Spotting the fiery glow of rage in them a minute earlier stirred something in me.
I was glad he’d left. Yet somewhere deep inside me, I wondered what would have happened if he’d stayed.
He didn’t matter.
I shook if off, bringing myself back to my senses.
Even without his help, I would get to my ship. Sooner or later, I’d be out of here. And he could stay and rot in this place, along with his crew of degenerates.
Chapter 8
THE DAY DRAGGED ON. The hours between meals felt like weeks. Vrateus would bring my food and take back the empty dishes—all without saying a word, hardly throwing a glance my way.
Fine, be that way.
I sulked, too. Sitting on the sleeping pallet, I watched the endless light show outside the glass during the brief few minutes he spent in my room each time.
The silence grew heavier with each of his visits and harder to bear. With no one to talk to, the loneliness grew. I had to speak with him, to get some information. But more than that, I just wanted to talk, with anyone.
The next morning, I showered and dressed, unsure of why I even bothered. As far as anyone in this place was probably concerned, I could have stayed in bed for the next several days. As long as I showed up to excite them during their weekly public masturbation sessions, no one cared what I did the rest of the time.
“Good morning,” I offered the greeting first when Vrateus brought my breakfast.
He froze, holding the tray with a huge metal bowl and an ornate metal cup on it. Narrowing his eyes, he gave me an assessing stare.
“Morning,” he replied tentatively, still obviously sulking.
If he were expecting an apology from me, he would have to wait for a long time. I would not apologize for demanding to be treated as a free person with dignity, even as he had deprived me of both dignity and freedom.
I couldn’t bear to sit in silence, day after day, as years passed by in the outside world—the world where I belonged.
“I don’t like this...” I waved my hand between us, gesturing at him and me, “This silent treatment thing.”
“I am not enjoying it either.” He placed the tray on the table but didn’t leave immediately after, as he had done yesterday.
Instead, he took his usual wide stance, crossing his arms over his chest. The pose had a certain flare of arrogance, which suited him.
I stood in front of him, trying not to mimic his stance. “I would like to break this silence. Can we please talk again?”
“I would like that, too.” He inclined his head as if he were accepting the apology I had never given.
In fact, shouldn’t he be the one to apologize? After all, I was still the one destined to spend the rest of my life locked up.
I took a long breath in, reminding myself that getting into yet another argument would hinder my plans.
“So,” I tried just one more time, as calmly and friendly as I could manage. “Are you absolutely positive that there is definitely no way for me to ever leave this room? More often than once a week, please?”
He dropped his hands to his sides with an exasperated sigh. “Svetlana.”
There was something slightly indecent in the way he pronounced my name. It made me think of licking, for some reason.
He obviously wasn’t thinking of that, judging by his frustrated expression.
“It wasn’t a whim of mine, to keep you in here. Anywhere outside of this glass capsule is dangerous.” He raked his