the time she smelled like Cain anyway.
Her hair was basically hopeless. Cain had found her something that resembled a comb and she spent hours trying to work it through her snarled mass of dark hair. She washed her hair in the sink sometimes but there was no soap or shampoo. She’d given up hoping that her hair would ever look attractive again.
Cain had offered to shave it off for her—the way he shaved his own scalp with the blade he kept hidden behind the toilet. But Riana couldn’t yet bring herself to give up her hair completely.
60
Hold
Maybe later she would get there. But not yet.
She had let Cain shave her pussy. Two weeks ago. Initially, it had been for purely practical reasons. But the act had ended up being intensely erotic. And when he’d finished the delicate procedure, he’d had her hold herself open intimately so he could pleasure her with his lips, tongue and teeth.
She’d come three times—the last time screaming.
Just the memory of it still made her wet.
When Cain came back to the cell with the food, Riana accepted her portion with thanks. She’d never gone with him to retrieve the meals. She could only imagine what madness the event consisted of from the loud, violent sounds she’d heard twice daily.
Cain wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on protecting her as well as claiming food for both of them. So he always left her locked in the cell and Riana had never complained.
She didn’t complain about anything anyway. Even things that genuinely bugged her. She kept all of her annoyances—the inevitable result of living in such close quarters with a terse, stoic man—to herself.
She had no idea how many complaints it would take for Cain to get sick of her and banish her from his cell. But she wasn’t about to test his limits.
The meal always consisted of stew and bread, and sometimes Riana could barely swallow it because she was so tired of the stuff. But Cain always got grumpy and disapproving when she didn’t eat—the way he acted whenever she showed signs of not being tough enough—so she usually managed to force down enough to keep herself full.
She’d started working out with Cain—doing as many push-ups and sit-ups as she could and running at least a couple of laps around the perimeter of the Hold with him until she was too exhausted to keep up. He would lock her in the cell when she’d done all she could, and he would finish his run by himself.
Some mornings he ran for more than an hour.
61
Zannie Adams
In the afternoons he would work on building his device. She still had no idea what it was, although she could now see how parts of it functioned and was pretty sure it would end up being some kind of primitive machine. There was absolutely nothing for her to do, so she would watch him until she dozed off.
If he was in an amiable mood—or what passed for amiable for Cain—they would talk as he worked. She told him about her childhood and her grandmother, the only person she’d ever really loved. And she told him about her schooling, her job and the various digs she’d gone on over the years.
Cain didn’t tell her nearly as much. He wasn’t an open or talkative person. But he told her about some of the trips he’d made—he’d traveled all over Coalition space. And once he told her about his dog.
Max.
It was the only time in the month she’d known him Riana had seen something like grief on his face.
Some time in the afternoon, Cain usually went on the “hunt” for some object he needed for his device. Riana always went with him—mostly to get out of the cell for a little while.
This afternoon when Cain got up from the floor where he’d been tinkering on his machine, Riana jumped to her feet immediately. She was restless today. Cain had been silent and brooding, and they hadn’t had sex since before the lights had come on. She’d washed out her camisole and hung it up to drip dry but that was all she’d accomplished all day.
She needed to do
Her hair was basically hopeless. Cain had found her something that resembled a comb and she spent hours trying to work it through her snarled mass of dark hair. She washed her hair in the sink sometimes but there was no soap or shampoo. She’d given up hoping that her hair would ever look attractive again.
Cain had offered to shave it off for her—the way he shaved his own scalp with the blade he kept hidden behind the toilet. But Riana couldn’t yet bring herself to give up her hair completely.
60
Hold
Maybe later she would get there. But not yet.
She had let Cain shave her pussy. Two weeks ago. Initially, it had been for purely practical reasons. But the act had ended up being intensely erotic. And when he’d finished the delicate procedure, he’d had her hold herself open intimately so he could pleasure her with his lips, tongue and teeth.
She’d come three times—the last time screaming.
Just the memory of it still made her wet.
When Cain came back to the cell with the food, Riana accepted her portion with thanks. She’d never gone with him to retrieve the meals. She could only imagine what madness the event consisted of from the loud, violent sounds she’d heard twice daily.
Cain wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on protecting her as well as claiming food for both of them. So he always left her locked in the cell and Riana had never complained.
She didn’t complain about anything anyway. Even things that genuinely bugged her. She kept all of her annoyances—the inevitable result of living in such close quarters with a terse, stoic man—to herself.
She had no idea how many complaints it would take for Cain to get sick of her and banish her from his cell. But she wasn’t about to test his limits.
The meal always consisted of stew and bread, and sometimes Riana could barely swallow it because she was so tired of the stuff. But Cain always got grumpy and disapproving when she didn’t eat—the way he acted whenever she showed signs of not being tough enough—so she usually managed to force down enough to keep herself full.
She’d started working out with Cain—doing as many push-ups and sit-ups as she could and running at least a couple of laps around the perimeter of the Hold with him until she was too exhausted to keep up. He would lock her in the cell when she’d done all she could, and he would finish his run by himself.
Some mornings he ran for more than an hour.
61
Zannie Adams
In the afternoons he would work on building his device. She still had no idea what it was, although she could now see how parts of it functioned and was pretty sure it would end up being some kind of primitive machine. There was absolutely nothing for her to do, so she would watch him until she dozed off.
If he was in an amiable mood—or what passed for amiable for Cain—they would talk as he worked. She told him about her childhood and her grandmother, the only person she’d ever really loved. And she told him about her schooling, her job and the various digs she’d gone on over the years.
Cain didn’t tell her nearly as much. He wasn’t an open or talkative person. But he told her about some of the trips he’d made—he’d traveled all over Coalition space. And once he told her about his dog.
Max.
It was the only time in the month she’d known him Riana had seen something like grief on his face.
Some time in the afternoon, Cain usually went on the “hunt” for some object he needed for his device. Riana always went with him—mostly to get out of the cell for a little while.
This afternoon when Cain got up from the floor where he’d been tinkering on his machine, Riana jumped to her feet immediately. She was restless today. Cain had been silent and brooding, and they hadn’t had sex since before the lights had come on. She’d washed out her camisole and hung it up to drip dry but that was all she’d accomplished all day.
She needed to do
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