{Gait}

Another day on her knees, Ross held her head high.

Matt stood off to the side of her bunk. Quiet. He rarely spoke. Almost as if his presence was the point. She wanted to hate him. To tell him not to bother. But the bit in her teeth stopped her. That and the comfort in knowing at least one person in this hellish dungeon.

The downstairs door whispered open for the second time that day. Rather than the usual stealthy boots, heavy footfalls of an entourage stormed the stairs. Matt shifted in her bunk and opened the cell door. This was new. New was bad.

The hood over her head left Ross blind and enhanced the pain in her back and shoulders. The sting of her knees. But the Shadow never gave in.

“Damn, you’re impressive.” That voice. Silken and cordial. Lies dripped from his lips.

Razor.

Don’t acknowledge him. Don’t let him win.

One set of footsteps drew closer. Her heart slammed in her chest. The hood vanished, and Ross squeezed her eyes shut. The light. It left her eyes too sore to hide it. Tears fell from her lashes.

Soothingly, Razor assured, “It’s all right. Your nacre will adjust. There. All better?”

Choking back her own spit, Ross tested her eyes enough to glare at him.

The Pain Curator sucked air through his teeth and clicked his tongue. “Progeny women. You’re all forged in battle. The same fire burns in each of you. You mesmerize me.” He placed a hand on his chest, feigning sincerity.

Ross knew better.

“My dear, there’s no need for this antagonism between us. I can ease your troubles.”

The industrial space finally came into focus. Floors, walls, structural work—all in black. It sucked the scant light into an abyss of despair. Not for Ross. She stretched one arm until the socket popped in relief. Then the next. Rotated her neck to loosen all the creaks. Straightened her spine and raised her chin. Standard operating procedure by now. She refused to acknowledge him beyond a glare.

Razor hitched the knees of his charcoal three-piece suit before kneeling in front of her. This close, she couldn’t ignore the handsome features he obviously used to charm Sagan. Black hair, pink eyes, and gentle angles enhanced by that smile. Such strange eyes. Infinity stretched through them in vistas of potential, unlived lifetimes.

The suits tailored to his athletic figure didn’t hurt, either.

He smirked as if he read her mind. Ross blushed, and his smile deepened into something akin to pity. She startled when he reached for the bit’s buckle in the back. This was it. Her chance.

When Razor grazed her nape, she opened the connection through the contact. And—

Nothing.

Razor worked on the hogtie straps. Again, he touched her arm. And again she tried.

Ross’ blood ran cold. His memories read empty to her. A big nothing.

“Leave us.”

On his command, the entourage and Matt left them alone in her bunk. Pain tingled along her freed limbs and stiffness prevented her from stretching out to relieve the ache. She hated him—

What the fuck was Razor doing?!

The Pain Curator slipped out of his blazer, shrugged off his vest, and unbuttoned his shirt.

Ross looked away with her pulse fluttering and her heart stopping. Escape! Run! Don’t let him—

“I’m not here to harm you, Ross. Inauguration doesn’t require that. But first…” He took her overly sensitized hand and placed it on his bare chest above his nacre. “Try it now.”

She kept her eyes averted, but tried to open his memory bank all the same.

Nothing. Even with contact directly above his nacre, nothing. Her ability didn’t work on him.

Razor kept her hand on him as he asked, “Why do you think that is?” Gently, he chafed the blood flow to her fingers where they pressed against his pale skin.

Curious, Ross met his pink gaze. Only one reason came to mind. Hoarsely, she guessed, “You don’t have a nacre. You weren’t born with one. Like I wasn’t.”

“And you stole yours from an Icarus in battle. You’re a very brave young woman.”

Head spinning with questions, Ross hardly noticed Razor took the other hand and rubbed the feeling gently back into her fingers. The sensory overload of lights, textures, and smells—vanilla?—lost priority to her fascination. Swallowing against her dry throat, she asked, “What are you?”

With little pressure through the jumpsuit, Razor squeezed his way gently up her wrists. The comfort contrasted starkly against the past week’s torture and overstimulated Ross. He ducked his head to catch her gaze, kept her focus on him as he answered, “I’m ancient. Much older than anyone you’ve met in the Vast Collective. And I’m the last of my kind.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Even in her weakened state, Ross refused to ignore the past week’s events. His part in them. For her sister. Hoarsely, she demanded, “Why?” But couldn’t quite ask everything. Her parched throat stifled the words.

“Shh. You need water. And food.”

Yeah. No shit—

Razor reached her elbows with the gentle massaging. More tenderly than she expected, he bent her arms and brought her closer to him. Her breath caught in her throat when he pressed his warm palms into the bare, sore muscles along her spine. More tears burned. Not because it hurt. But because it felt good and eased those aching, tired spots she could never relieve on her own. He poisoned his kindness with ulterior motives. But Ross could only hold her head high for so long.

“Why?” She balled her hands into fists against his hard chest, unable to support herself while he worked out her tension.

“Will knowing ‘why’ ease you?” Again, Razor’s voice was quiet, soothing.

“I don’t know.” Honesty. The truth. That’s all Ross had left in her position.

He looked into her eyes, like he wanted to find a way inside her mind. Those weren’t vistas. Those were graveyards. Not infinity. Just bones—

“I’m repositioning you so you can stretch your legs. You’ll find it uncomfortable at first. Relax and remember, you’re safe with me.”

No way did she believe that, but stretching her legs sounded nice after a week in the same—

“What’re you doing?!”

Crooking an arm under her knees, Razor easily lifted her into his lap. She pressed against his chest to force them apart—

Holy tingle fuckery. Blood rushed to her feet, and Ross’ cry of pain cracked in her dry vocal cords. Stupid tears.

He leaned her against him while he went to work on her thighs. No. That was too close.

“Shh. No harm. I’ve no interest in you for that.”

Ross met his gaze. Razor kept his hands off as he let her search the pink boneyard. This was the first subject he showed true patience and kindness with her. An involuntary jerk in her thigh and a cramp in her calf demanded relief. Hurting and desperate, she croaked, “Please.”

Unbroken promise. He never went higher than mid-thigh and massaged out the tingles through the jumpsuit’s black material. She wasn’t able to form words until he reached her knees.

“My sister?” Ross squeaked out a thousand questions in two words.

Something akin to sadness shaded Razor’s eyes and weighted the smile he offered. Even his voice sounded thick with it, “I like you. I want to release you. The world needs brave and exceptional young women such as yourself out there, doing good in the worlds. Unfortunately, I’m not the only person involved in this operation. My hands are tied.” He held up a hand to stop her from protesting. “But if you help me—meet me halfway—together we can convince them everything is still according to plan while you enjoy secret amenities I’m here to grant you.”

No wonder Sagan fell prey to him. The man controlled his lips, brows, eyes, voice—even his heart rate—to excrete sincerity. Maybe even his scent. Warm vanilla overwhelmed her now. But no one’s hands were truly tied. Razor was complicit and benefiting from it somehow. But if these “amenities” involved her sister, Ross needed to gain some leverage.

“Like what—Ah!” She cried out as he found that charley horse she fought for days. Gingerly, he dug into her calf and worked it out, wiping her burning tears away with his free hand. Dizzy from the relief, Ross fell forward and rested her head on Razor’s shoulder.

His voice rumbled in his chest near her ear. “You can visit your sister for an hour every day in exchange for one daily session with Matt. I’ll even remove Bethany from rotation until you can get her to speak.”

“Why would you do that?” Even dry, suspicion still laced Ross’ voice.

Razor finished by idly popping the joints in her toes. “An offer of good faith. I’d rather work with you than make an enemy of such a powerful ally.” Again, with that sad sincerity in his gaze.

A thought struck Ross. An important one. Maybe her best way out. “Will Sagan ever know I’m here? Will you keep my captivity a secret?”

The solemn shake of his head chilled her blood. “I’m afraid Sagan won’t return. We had a falling out, as it were. It’s just you and me now.”

Shit. After considering his terms, Ross bit her lip and resolutely offered, “Free my sister, and I’ll do whatever you want.” Even with the promise of torture, she meant every word.

The cemeteries in his eyes caught fire. The possibilities danced in the flames of the Hell Ross abandoned herself to. Voice no longer ladened in sadness, Razor assured, “I’ll consider your counter-offer after your first session.”

“Please-no-sex-ones. I’m-a-virgin.” She stammered all of that out in one long word with her eyes squeezed shut. Her entire body tensed into a tight ball, freshly irritating the abused muscles after all the effort he put into easing them.

Razor crooked a warm finger under her chin and lifted it until Ross opened her eyes. Softly, he vowed, “Not you. And not your sister. On my word. Unless you get curious, of course.” He glanced down at her hands still pressed against his chest where she sat in his lap.

She followed his gaze with anxious, wide eyes.

His warm chuckle vibrated under her fingers. She tore them away as if burned and fell all the way out of his lap. The mirth softened the constant negotiating tone of his voice. “Your planet repressed you terribly. You’re beautiful, Ross. But you’re far too young for me to find you sexually attractive. If you trust me with your hand, I’ll help you to your feet.” He stood and reached for her.

Ross took the hand Razor offered. He held her gently, non-sexually, as promised, while her legs adjusted to supporting her. Reaching over, he uncovered a tray with a glass of water and the biggest sandwich Ross ever laid eyes on. Her stomach growled immediately now that the pain subsided enough for her to entertain the hunger. He helped her to the bench until her feet caught on the binds. The same binds this man confined her in for a week. After subjecting her sister to the same torture for two years.

Over the last hour, Ross became comfortable with this man. This monster. How?! Antithesis to her thoughts, she asked meekly, “Will you put me back in those?” Ross added a light pout and a slight quiver to her chin.

Razor shook his head with sincerity restored in his gaze. “On my word until we see how you are with your first session.”

She nodded, and at a gesture from him, set to eating ferociously. While she inhaled the sandwich, he dressed and straightened his clothes.

“Participate in your first session today. Matt is permitted to grant you one hour with Bethany after you mend your wounds. I’m attending business Earthside until this evening. I’ll check with him then.”

Business on Earth?

At her flinch, Razor elaborated, “Don’t worry. Your brother’s off limits.”

Damn it. He was definitely heading to Earth to fuck with the Shadow. And Ross was powerless to help them from this stupid bunk.

“Eat and cheer up, my dear. You’ve claimed a victory over me, today. Nothing will happen that you don’t agree to. And your sister stands a chance.”

Yeah. Ross couldn’t wait to celebrate in her cell. But Razor was right about one thing. After a week of his prescribed torture, it only took the man an hour of contrasting tenderness to break her down and consent to his demands. And now all she could do was wait for the Shadow to rescue them. If things got desperate, it was all up to her.

She gripped her chain. Her ability wouldn’t do any good against the man with no nacre. But his staff wouldn’t stand a chance. Endure the first session. Check on Bethany. Case the place. And seize the perfect opportunity for escape.

Ross wouldn’t let her sister down.