Planet Athion: The Complete Series by Angel Lawson

67

Mercy

I storm awayfrom the meeting, away from the Master’s tainted quarters, and down the hallway. It’s weird walking without a guard of some kind and not being afraid for my life. Members of the rebellion are visible but instead of blocking my way, they step aside when they see me coming, greet me with respect and generally steer clear.

The elevator opens, taking me to the ward, mine in particular. I suit up in a sterile uniform and step through the doors for the first time since the occupation. The women look up when they see me, wide smiles of relief on their faces.

“Mercy!” Lynn says in surprise. She has her baby in her arms, a peacefully sleeping girl. “You’re really okay!”

She pulls me into a one-armed hug and I can’t hold back my smile at her or the other women that hop up or waddle over. They’re all in various states of pregnancy or post-natal condition. Several babies are in the room and I greet each one.

“We thought something terrible had happened to you after the occupation and you didn’t return,” a woman named Sandra says. She’s got a few weeks left before she delivers.

“Honestly, something terrible did happen, but I survived and we’re still here and things are going to change.”

“Was the Master really caught?” Lynn asks.

“Is he dead?” comes from another woman.

“Are the Custo going to free us?”

I take a deep breath. “The Master is imprisoned by the Custo, who have plans to eradicate slavery, particularly with the birthing rings and brothels.”

“What does that mean for us?” Lynn asks. “Normally I’d have another week or so here and then they’d take the baby and I’d be sent back to the brothel.”

I take her hand. “I know, but that’s not going to happen anymore. No one is going anywhere without my approval, okay?”

“Can we go back to Athion?” Sandra asks, her hands on her belly. “Back to the lives we came here to live.”

I nod. “That’s what I want.”

She smiles. So do the others, but I sense their insecurity.

“I’m here to protect and serve you,” I say, feeling emotional from the meltdown upstairs. “That’s not going to change now that the Custo are in charge; if anything, I’ll be able to help you better.”

“Thank you,” Lynn says. “For everything.”

“I’m sorry I missed the birth.”

She eyes the bruises I know are still visible on my neck. “I understand. I’m just thankful you’re safe.”

We talk a little longer and I examine each woman, making sure everything is on track pre- and post-birth. I think about how these women are forgiving that I missed the birth of their babies but how they rely on my strength now. That is what I need from my Custo. I can forgive them for not being here before. That wasn’t their fault, but to put themselves out there again? Away from me?

I’m not willing to accept it.

* * *

By the endof the day, I’ve started to devise a plan for the women in the ward. They can stay here until they’re fit to travel with their newborns. We’ll give them appropriate housing—no longer just the sterile hospital rooms—and we’ll get them back to Athion to live a safe, secure life.

We owe them nothing less.

As much as I hate going back to the main quarters, (I’m refusing to use the word Master anymore. We live here now.), I’m exhausted and ready to get off my feet. I pass though the entry and the living room, down the hall and enter my bedroom.

Alex waits for me on the couch—asleep.

He’s sprawled out, long legs draped over the side. His body is still recovering from the imprisonment. I try to muster up some anger from earlier in the day but I don’t have the energy. Instead, I just nudge him over and climb onto the couch, snuggling into his side. He shifts, wrapping his arms around me, and together, we doze off.

I wake later to the feeling of fingertips gently stroking down my arm, to the soft brush of kisses against my neck. My body ignites and I press my backside against Alex.

“I’m sorry about earlier today,” he says quietly. “I understand your concern about being separated. I feel the same way.”

I shift to face him. “You do?”

He nods and continues to kiss me sweetly. Small brushes against my cheeks, my neck, and collarbone. “Being away from you, from my brothers in that cell almost broke me,” he confesses. “I never want to feel like that again.”

“Me either.”

My nipples peak from his warm breath and I shift, giving him better access to run his thumbs over the fabric-covered points. A chill rushes through my body. His strong hands run along my sides and I press my lips against the warm spot under his jaw.

He cups my behind, pulling me to a sitting position, and he moves to the floor, propped on his knees. We’re eye-to-eye this way and I tug at his shirt, wanting to see his body, inspect it for myself. My nose wrinkles at the mottled bruises on his ribs but he just kisses me harder, pulling my attention away. I kiss his shoulders, his chest and nipples while he lifts my shirt over my head. His eyes zero in on my chest and he leans in to run his nose down the length of my cleavage. His touch feels so good.

“Relax,” he instructs, encouraging me to lean back against the cushion, letting him lick his way down my belly. He stops at the waist of my pants, looping his fingers underneath and lowering them by an inch.

Fire burns between my legs, just knowing he’s so close, while taking his sweet time. He tenderly kisses each of my hips and lowers my pants just a bit more. His face hovers, taunting, separated by willpower and fabric, and I’m about to grab him by the ears and shove his head between my legs.

Too needy?

The crotch of my pants is damp by the time he pulls them over my butt and down my thighs. His lips blaze a trail over the tops of my legs and as he slips each pant leg over my foot he moves closer, easing himself between my knees, pulling my hips to the edge of the couch.

Alex and I have spent many nights together, clothed and talking, playing games and sharing stories about our lives. I’ve dreamed of being with him intimately, wanting the time to be just with him. I knew he was attentive; he’d made me an Athion ice cream sundae, but this? This level of attention? The way his teeth feel, grazing my inner thighs. The way his tongue feels, inching upward.

It’s a whole other level.

He toys with me, taunts, bringing to the brink. When his mouth finally meets my overheated, slick skin, I exhale in a loud moan. My fingers push into his hair, my feet move to the edge of the cushion, exposing myself to him.

The first time his tongue licks against my clit, my hips buck forward seeking more. He glances up and smirks, aware that I’m putty in his hands or, er, mouth. He spreads me wide, his breath warm, his determination set.

I don’t know if it’s the pent-up anxiety from the time apart or from almost losing him and losing myself, but when the orgasm rolls through my body, shatters me like glass, I feel like a massive weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

Alex looks up at me, face damp, lips red, and grins. I tilt his chin upward with a shaky hand and declare, “And that’s just one of the reasons I’m not letting you ever leave me again.”