Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Now then, the three of you get comfortable,” the Trollox said, his voice echoing through all three rooms. “And when you’re ready, just go down the hallway there and you’ll find the kitchen where the cook will feed you. Be good little piggy-wigs and enjoy your dinner and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow your duties will begin.”
He stumped away, the floor trembling under his weight. But his rancid, fungal stench lingered like a curse.
Noelle stood in her room, hugging her arms to herself—carefully, so she didn’t get shocked again—and felt a cold dread slide down her spine.
Are we trapped here? Will we ever see home again?
And worse…
What does he really want from us?
The huge Trollox hadn’t just bought them just to have more servants…had he?
Noelle swallowed hard, her throat tight, her body aching and hot and strange.
Something deep in her gut whispered that whatever was coming next
was going to be much worse than cleaning a giant’s house.
39
BURN
Burn stood in the middle of his room, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at the absurdly oversized bed. It looked less like a place to sleep and more like a training mat built for giants—hell, all three of them could curl up in one corner and still have space left over. The whole house was like that. Oversized…alien…unsettling.
Gods, I hate sleeping alone, he thought, glancing at the heavy wooden headboard. The last time he’d slept in a bed without Bright close by had been…what? Years ago? Longer? Even on the Mother Ship, they always shared quarters. They didn’t touch—that was a boundary neither one of them would cross—but Bright’s presence grounded him and held the nightmares at bay.
Now, with these massive empty rooms and the echo of that damn Trollox’s laughter still rattling in his ears, Burn felt…off balance. Vulnerable in a way he didn’t care to admit.
He shook himself and forced his attention to the room itself. Aside from the hulking bed, there was a wardrobe built of some dark, oily-smelling wood, so tall he had to crane his neck to see the top. The handles were as thick as his forearm. Burn pulled one open, expecting to see nothing but empty shelves.
Instead, to his surprise, there were clothes—neatly folded, almost as if someone had been expecting guests. Or maybe prisoners, he thought grimly.
He pulled out a pair of black trousers, rough-woven and sturdy. They looked like they might fit him, so Burn tried them on. They were a bit tight around his thighs, but anything was better than the fucking leather loincloth. He stripped it off and threw it across the room. He found a loose shirt too, but decided to stay bare-chested for now—his skin was still burning from all the stress and his nerves were as tight as steel cables.
As he buckled the trousers, he wondered, Whose clothes are these? Who wore them last?
He didn’t like the possible answers that rose to his mind.
He heard a noise at the door and turned—Bright stood there, looking a little lost in the cavernous hallway, still wearing his own tight loincloth.
“Hey—where’d you get the clothes?” Bright asked, looking Burn up and down.
“Found them in my closet. There’s more if you want to wear something else,” Burn grunted, jerking his chin toward the wardrobe.
Bright stepped inside eagerly—he clearly didn’t like wearing the leather loincloth any more than Burn did. He dug through the shelves and found another pair of trousers in dark gray, and a shirt that actually fit his broad shoulders.
He slid into the clothes, frowning as he buttoned the shirt.
“I wonder who these belonged to? It’s clear we’re not the first humanoid ‘guests’ this Trollox has had.” He looked up, troubled. “So what happened to the others?”
Burn didn’t have an answer.
Maybe they escaped. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe they’re rotting somewhere out in that massive garden, feeding the flowers with their bones.
He shoved the thought aside—it didn’t help anyone to spiral.
Before he could say anything, the door opened again and Noelle came in. She looked small, flushed, and fierce, her breasts still jutting obscenely through that shiny green dress, cheeks pink from embarrassment or nerves or both.
“You changed clothes!” she exclaimed, eyes going wide as she stared at Burn’s bare chest, then at Bright’s buttoned shirt. “I want new clothes too!”
“I’m afraid all of these are going to be too big for you, baby,” Burn said, motioning to the closet. His tone came out rougher than he intended—he didn’t mean to sound possessive, but the sight of her so exposed and vulnerable, the silver collar gleaming around her neck, made something dark rise in his chest.
Mine, a voice whispered deep inside. Ours.
“I don’t care how big they are as long as they cover me. I’m tired of walking around all exposed!” she exclaimed, frustration written plain on her face. “Plus, this damn collar keeps shocking me every time I accidentally touch myself.”