With a groan she rolled to her back, instantly regretting moving. She was going to be sick.
Again…
There was already a pool of drying vomit in the corner, the sour aroma doing nothing to make the boiling cockpit more comfortable.
“I would say you have less than an hour,” the Beta droned from his side of the door. “Thirsty?”
Her mouth was a pit of sand, but all she could think of was the fountain in Beta Sector. How cool that water had been, and how awful the price she’d paid for tasting it. “I don’t need a drink.”
He rolled her a half empty bottle anyway. Before she could stop herself, she snatched it up and drained it dry. The momentary relief was short lived. Twisting her guts, a ferocious cramp left her curled into a ball of misery.
When it finally began to abate, another wave of nausea brought Brenya to her hands and knees.
“You may be farther along than I thought.”
Throwing a hiss toward the door, she shouted, “Will you stop talking?”
“While you were resting, I took the liberty of following your example”—there were sounds of shuffling, the man raising from where he must have rested against the wall—“pulling wires, yanking out pipes. You should see the mess in here. Having seen you work, I doubt it would take you more than a day or two to repair. We’ll be found before then.”
“What?” Peering at her tormenter through lank, stringy hair, Brenya wailed, “No! Why would you do that?”
“Because the consequences of this ship even pointing in the direction of Thólos are further reaching than you know.”
She wasn’t listening, dragging her body to the console to confirm with horror that massive damage had been done. Sobbing, practically incoherent, she sank to her knees and hid her head in her hands. “I won’t go back there.”
Calm, rational, Jules said, “I gave you your chance to open the door, Brenya. There was no other way to prevent a massive international incident.”
It was not the first time she had heard the stranger use her name. He’d been repeating it for hours since she’d cracked the door. Brenya, open the door. Brenya, come closer. Brenya, drink.
“Your Commodore is going to find this ship, if he hasn’t already pinpointed our location with his web of satellites. It’s inevitable.” Fingers sneaking between the open crack, the Beta pushed forward, more intrusive than he had dared until that point. “The fact that you are moments from estrous might keep you alive. If he pair-bonds to you, he won’t kill you. He won’t be able to hurt you, not without causing great harm to himself.”
She sunk to the floor to wail out her grief and decided she hated this male even more than all the others combined. “You told me to get out.”
Another bottle of water was rolled until it hit her spine.
“You’ll need to hydrate. Estrous is demanding on the body, and will be worse for you without assistance. Drink it all now while you still can.”
She would rather swallow poison.
His monotone voice was grating on her ears, the Beta’s incessant talking unbearable. Needing to retreat, to get away from everything, she crawled under the console. There was room enough to curl into a ball, enough shadow to feel a little safer, but there was no hiding from her failures.
If only the Beta had not been on the ship, she would have been free.
Low grunts hummed up the back of her throat with each exhale, a patterned cadence of female music peppered with whimpers as the pain returned full force.
With one mighty lurch everything inside her squeezed, a rush of fluid splattering her thighs to drip down and pool on the floor. Fingers between her legs, she tried to hold it in, only to find those digits playing in the slick and pumping inadequately into her body.
She had no control. “Nooooo.”
The male, the one who had guaranteed her ruin, dropped his voice lower as if after all these hours, words had finally grown difficult. “You’re okay.”
“I am not fucking okay!” Even though her back was to him, she was masturbating in front of a stranger, unable to stop, and knew he could see. “Nothing about this is okay.”
Those crystalline blue eyes were watching, focused, the entirety of his form filling up the small space the door would allow. “Listen to me, Brenya. I need you to hold one thought in your head. Whatever you do now, do not open the door.”
“Open the door. Close the door. Make up your damn mind!” she shrieked at him, then whined when the worst feeling of emptiness flattened her to the ground. The Omega George had been fucking had made similar noises. She had twisted under him in search of relief.
At least that Omega had had a cock inside her.
No amount of furious rubbing of her clit, or fingering the place Jacques liked to taste, abated the need. Gods, it was awful. It scratched through her body, left her nipples on fire, her mouth drier than dust.