our hellion settled in some, before the field crew comes in.”
“You got it, boss. Behave, boy,” he said with a final friendly slap on Temar’s arm, and then he wandered out of the mechanical room, leaving Temar alone with Ben.
Ben ran a finger over the door handle to the incinerator. “Do I need to explain the futility of screaming?” Ben asked, with an amused twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Temar shook his head. Clearly, Ben had won this fight. Temar’s family was gone, his land was gone, and his sister’s life was in the hands of a monster.
“Such a trainable boy,” Ben said, his expression widening into a big grin. He stepped forward, his body trapping Temar against the table as he reached around to pull at the knotted strip of fabric. Ben was taller, so when he leaned in, Temar was eye level with his chin and had a close-up view of the tiny, rough hairs pushing out of his face. Temar focused on the stubble, tracing patterns in the miniature forest of hair rather than look up into the mocking friendliness in this monster’s eyes.
With a last tug, the tie came loose, and Ben pulled it off, leaving Temar with a mouth full of fabric that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with. He looked at Ben, wondering if he dared to spit the soggy mess out or if that would bring back the anger. His throat still ached at the memory of those strong fingers wrapped around it as they threatened to strangle him.
Ben’s smile grew larger as he considered Temar. Bringing a finger up, he traced from the edge of Temar’s mouth to a spot under his ear. Temar suspected that he was following the red line made by the gag pressing into his skin. “Such a trainable boy.” Ben retraced the mark, pressing on the corner of Temar’s mouth. Temar sucked air through his nose as the pressure made the skin heat and sting.
“Ten years is a long time, but your life would go much smoother if you would yield to reason… if you’re a good boy and yield to me. There’s no cause to fight, because there is nothing to be gained.”
Temar watched with wide eyes, not sure how he was supposed to react.
Ben traced the edge of Temar’s top lip with a fingertip. “Do you want that out of your mouth?”
With a small nod, Temar watched Ben, feeling very much like the birdbug about to be pounced on by a sandcat. For a second, Ben didn’t do anything but run his work-rough finger over Temar’s lower lip and watch Temar with a predatory eye. Temar held himself perfectly still, his hands helpless and fisted between them.
“Such a very trainable boy.” Ben pressed down against Temar’s lip, and he allowed Ben to open his mouth and reach in for the soggy cloth. “You are so much brighter than your father even knew. You see the sides of the trap even now, don’t you?”
Temar dry swallowed, fear stealing his spit so that his lips and tongue tried to stick together. Ben tossed the cloth aside and pressed so close that Temar’s back had to arch against the hard edge of the table. “What would happen if you told your story to Carden?” Ben was back to sounding friendly and helpful.
For a second, Temar wasn’t sure whether Ben really wanted an answer, but then the hand that had been stroking his lip gave him a light slap across the face. “He’d think I was just accusing you because I’m angry. He wouldn’t believe it,” Temar blurted.
Again, Ben reached up, but this time he patted Temar on the cheek. “Good boy. You aren’t coming across as particularly reliable right now. And the less reliable you are, the less I have to worry about you, and the safer your sister is going to be. Guess what game we’re going to play.” Ben wiggled his eyebrows, and Temar watched him, terrified because right now anything that came out of Ben’s brain was not going to be good. “We’re going to go out there, and you’re going to play good slave until someone mentions water or George Young. Guess what you’re going to do
“You got it, boss. Behave, boy,” he said with a final friendly slap on Temar’s arm, and then he wandered out of the mechanical room, leaving Temar alone with Ben.
Ben ran a finger over the door handle to the incinerator. “Do I need to explain the futility of screaming?” Ben asked, with an amused twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Temar shook his head. Clearly, Ben had won this fight. Temar’s family was gone, his land was gone, and his sister’s life was in the hands of a monster.
“Such a trainable boy,” Ben said, his expression widening into a big grin. He stepped forward, his body trapping Temar against the table as he reached around to pull at the knotted strip of fabric. Ben was taller, so when he leaned in, Temar was eye level with his chin and had a close-up view of the tiny, rough hairs pushing out of his face. Temar focused on the stubble, tracing patterns in the miniature forest of hair rather than look up into the mocking friendliness in this monster’s eyes.
With a last tug, the tie came loose, and Ben pulled it off, leaving Temar with a mouth full of fabric that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with. He looked at Ben, wondering if he dared to spit the soggy mess out or if that would bring back the anger. His throat still ached at the memory of those strong fingers wrapped around it as they threatened to strangle him.
Ben’s smile grew larger as he considered Temar. Bringing a finger up, he traced from the edge of Temar’s mouth to a spot under his ear. Temar suspected that he was following the red line made by the gag pressing into his skin. “Such a trainable boy.” Ben retraced the mark, pressing on the corner of Temar’s mouth. Temar sucked air through his nose as the pressure made the skin heat and sting.
“Ten years is a long time, but your life would go much smoother if you would yield to reason… if you’re a good boy and yield to me. There’s no cause to fight, because there is nothing to be gained.”
Temar watched with wide eyes, not sure how he was supposed to react.
Ben traced the edge of Temar’s top lip with a fingertip. “Do you want that out of your mouth?”
With a small nod, Temar watched Ben, feeling very much like the birdbug about to be pounced on by a sandcat. For a second, Ben didn’t do anything but run his work-rough finger over Temar’s lower lip and watch Temar with a predatory eye. Temar held himself perfectly still, his hands helpless and fisted between them.
“Such a very trainable boy.” Ben pressed down against Temar’s lip, and he allowed Ben to open his mouth and reach in for the soggy cloth. “You are so much brighter than your father even knew. You see the sides of the trap even now, don’t you?”
Temar dry swallowed, fear stealing his spit so that his lips and tongue tried to stick together. Ben tossed the cloth aside and pressed so close that Temar’s back had to arch against the hard edge of the table. “What would happen if you told your story to Carden?” Ben was back to sounding friendly and helpful.
For a second, Temar wasn’t sure whether Ben really wanted an answer, but then the hand that had been stroking his lip gave him a light slap across the face. “He’d think I was just accusing you because I’m angry. He wouldn’t believe it,” Temar blurted.
Again, Ben reached up, but this time he patted Temar on the cheek. “Good boy. You aren’t coming across as particularly reliable right now. And the less reliable you are, the less I have to worry about you, and the safer your sister is going to be. Guess what game we’re going to play.” Ben wiggled his eyebrows, and Temar watched him, terrified because right now anything that came out of Ben’s brain was not going to be good. “We’re going to go out there, and you’re going to play good slave until someone mentions water or George Young. Guess what you’re going to do
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