Hold (12 page)

With a long exhalation, Cain extracted himself from Riana’s arms and pussy and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his pants. Then he walked over to unlock the cell door.

Davis wasn’t stupid. He leaned back as Cain approached, making sure the gun was out of the range of Cain’s hands.

But Cain didn’t put up a fight. She hadn’t expected him to.

Escape was almost within reach. He wasn’t going to blow it now.

Evidently, it was Cain’s turn for a checkup because he was manacled at his wrists and feet. And then, to her horror, he was gagged.

“Why are you doing that?” Riana gasped, sitting up and barely remembering to pull up the sheet to hide her bare breasts.

“Protocol,” Davis explained calmly. “When we can’t use the claw.”

“Oh.”

Only when he was being hauled over to the entrance of the vehicle did Cain begin to struggle. He was trying to say something around his gag and he jerked and fought against his restraints.

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Davis aimed a hard blow at his side, causing Cain to briefly double over.

“No.” Riana cried out, “Don’t.” She was so upset she started out of the bed, forgetting the fact that she was naked and that Cain’s semen was leaking out of her pussy.

Davis turned back to her. She saw his eyes slide down to take in the sight of her body and a new expression appeared on his face.

It only last a moment, however, before he regained his businesslike passivity.

But the brief flare of heat she’d seen made her self-conscious and she pulled one of the blankets off the bed and held it up to shield her body.

By that point, she’d figured out what Cain was trying to express. So she explained,

“The key. To this cell. There’s only one of them and he has it. I think he wants to give it to me.” Her eyes strayed to the rest of the Hold. “Otherwise, I’ll have no protection here.”

Davis thought for a minute but then must have decided this was reasonable. He went over to Cain himself and took the key. After studying it for a minute to make sure that’s all it was, he walked it back over to Riana.

His green eyes held hers for a long moment. “Are you all right here?”

It was an absolutely idiotic question. No one could be all right in the Hold.

But she understood what he was asking her. His eyes had drifted over to Cain’s big, animalistic form.

“As well as can be expected.” She kept her eyes cool, even though she suspected Davis was being as kind as he was allowed to be.

He’d kept her from being raped by the other guards that first day. She remembered that.

With a curt nod, Davis turned away from her and herded a shackled Cain into the vehicle. Riana felt vaguely sick as the doors of the vehicle slammed shut, but she hurried over to lock the door of the cell before it pulled away.

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Davis wouldn’t torture Cain for fun. And he wouldn’t kill him unless Cain put up a fight.

It should be all right.

It was terrible that the checkup happened just before they were going to make their escape. But it wasn’t the end of the world.

Cain would be back before lights out.

She spent the rest of the day huddled in bed. She wasn’t about to leave the cell at mealtime to try to get any food but she wasn’t hungry anyway.

The hours seemed to drag on unmercifully. And her reasonable calm at Cain’s departure gradually altered into anxious dread.

What was happening to him? What were they doing? Were they hurting him?

When was she going to get him back?

She couldn’t keep track of time in her mind as well as Cain did, so she could never predict the exact time of lights out the way he did. But she was sure it was getting close.

They were going to give him back to her this evening, weren’t they?

She was starting to have nightmares about them keeping Cain overnight when a voice outside the cell startled her.

“Riana. Let me in!”

She jumped out of bed at the sound of Cain’s voice, and she stumbled over to unlock the door.

Only when she’d let him in did she have a chance to look him over.

He looked terrible. There wasn’t any evident damage to his body. But he was limping and hunched over. And his face looked stretched and exhausted.

She grabbed him and hugged him to her. “Cain, are you all right?”

“Yeah.” His low mutter wasn’t convincing, and he pulled out of her embrace.

“What did they do to you?”

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He didn’t answer. Just gave a brief shake of his head and limped into the bathroom.

When he came out, he washed his hands and face in the sink and stood blankly in the middle of the floor.

“Cain, tell me what’s wrong,” she begged, feeling helpless and scared and overwhelmed.

He rubbed at his face. “I’m all right.” This time, he seemed to be making the effort to sound convincing.

But Riana still wasn’t convinced.

Instead of demanding answers, her eyes overflowed with sympathy. She put an arm around him and urged him toward the bed.

He didn’t resist. And when he’d gotten into bed, he rolled onto his side, facing away from her. He seemed to be closing in on himself.

She made a choked sound in her throat and pressed her body up against his back, wrapping her arms around him. She stroked his chest, hating how tense and stiff his muscles felt.

He’d gone fully into defense mode. And she had no idea what they’d done to him to make him do that.

Pressing kisses on his shoulder and the back of his neck, she murmured silly, soothing words and stroked and caressed him as much as she could. The lights went off, leaving them in darkness, but she didn’t stop touching him.

It wasn’t remotely sexual and it wasn’t going to turn into that. But the feeling in her gut and her chest—deep, swelling, overwhelming—was every bit as strong as physical arousal. She felt tender, protective, almost maternal. She wanted to take care of him.

Wanted to make him feel better.

And had no idea how she could do it.

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So she kept stroking and kissing him softly until his body started to relax at last. His breathing slowed down, became thick and hoarse. And finally he turned around in her arms so he could hold her as tightly as she was holding him.

Intensely relieved at these signs that he was recovering, Riana snuggled up against his chest. Eventually, she whispered into the dark, “Can you tell me what they did to you?”

One of Cain’s hands was tangled in her hair, holding her head against his shoulder.

His other hand, stroking her lower back, stilled as he replied, “Not now. I’ll try to tell you tomorrow.”

She didn’t push him any further. She knew he meant what he’d said. He wanted to tell her but he wasn’t psychologically able to open up to that extent yet—not after his defenses were just starting to come down.

“All right,” she murmured, pressing another kiss against his skin, tasting the salty bite of him. He even smelled different—like whatever they’d done had affected the raw, natural scent of him. She hated the change and wanted him to smell like himself again.

“Just go to sleep now. We’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.”

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Riana woke the following morning feeling like something was different. After months of endless days—all exactly the same—the feeling was significant enough to jar her awake from her usual half-conscious daze.

Cain wasn’t going to leave her. He was going to take her with him when he tried to escape. There might be hope for life outside the Hold—when she’d spent weeks telling herself not even to dream of a miracle rescue.

It wasn’t a miracle though. It was just Cain being Cain. And evidence that she meant something to him—at least enough not to leave behind.

She shifted in bed and realized she was snuggled up next to him. She had somehow scooted down while she’d slept because her cheek was pressed up against the side of Cain’s belly.

It wasn’t the worst place to be.

She pulled away, the skin of her cheek clinging to Cain’s warm, hard flesh as they parted. When she glanced up, she saw that he was already awake.

He didn’t look damaged or defensive, the way he had the night before. His expression was unfamiliar though—quiet and almost reflective.

“Hi,” she said, her voice cracking on the word.

With a faint smile, he murmured huskily, “What are you doing down there?”

Riana scooted back up so that she was stretched along his side. “I don’t know.” One of her cheeks felt warmer than the other so she assumed one was bright red from being pressed up against Cain’s side for so long.

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He adjusted so that he could wrap his arms around her. He inhaled deeply, as if he were breathing her in—which was a little unnerving since she was sure she didn’t smell all that fresh.

“Are you all right?” she asked, peering up at his unreadable expression. Her heart still ached at how he’d been feeling the night before.

“I’m all right. Thanks.” This morning his words rung true.

She opened her mouth to ask about what had happened at the checkup but then she snapped it shut again. She didn’t want to pressure him or make him think about it this morning when he was clearly feeling better.

But he must have read her mind. Because, after clearing his throat, he began, “It’s not torture.”

Riana gasped, startled and relieved at the same time. She didn’t bother asking for clarification, since she knew exactly what he was referring to. “It’s not?”

“No.” He shook his head slowly and brushed his hand along the tangles in her hair.

“Davis is rigid about following Coalition rules. So the checkups get done once a year.

And they are legitimate checkups.”

“So what’s so terrible about it?”

Cain was obviously having a hard time saying this, even though he sustained a low, even tone the whole time. “They strap you down to a table naked and then you’re moved along on a conveyor belt through a series of machines to scan and test your health.”

She could only imagine how Cain would feel bound and humiliated that way. She could only imagine how she herself would feel. But there must be more to it than that, based on his behavior last night. “Do the tests hurt?”

“Some of them. But the worst thing is…” He trailed off, wincing slightly.

“What?” She stroked his chest and belly and felt vaguely sick—so powerfully did she sympathize with Cain’s obvious distress. “What is it?”

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“You move through a tube—so small and tight you couldn’t move even if you weren’t strapped down. And the tests take hours.”

Hours. Trapped in a tiny, dark enclosure. And Cain didn’t like to be boxed in. He’d told her so the first night she’d met him.

She understood his reaction. Another person might not have responded so intensely, but he had. He wasn’t invulnerable. So she didn’t ask any more questions.

She just squeezed him in a hug and rested her head on his shoulder.

After a minute, Cain said, “But ultimately I think this might help us.”

Riana lifted her head. “How?”

“I formed another plan while I was there. The most risky part of my original plan was getting both of us out of the Hold into the control center. I know of another way to do it now.”

“What’s that?”

Cain met her eyes evenly, something oddly wary in his eyes. “Today, Davis will take you up for a checkup.”

“What? Wait a minute! What? How do you know?”

“I know.” When he saw she was about to object and demand further information, he explained, “He’s got a thing for you. And now you’re on his mind. He’s not going to want to wait to bring you up.”

She was so startled she sat up in bed and gaped at him. “What are you talking about? He doesn’t have a thing for me. He barely even acknowledges me—or any other prisoner, for that matter.” But she remembered the hot look she’d surprised in Davis’

eyes the day before, when she’d gotten out of the bed naked. And she started to wonder if Cain might be right.

“He’s a professional but he definitely has a thing for you. I noticed it the first day he showed you around the Hold.”

“He’s never even tried to—”

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“He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t rape a prisoner, even though it would be so easy. But he’s interested. I talked you up while I was up there.”

“What?” Her startled question came out louder than she’d expected.

“It’s not what you think. I didn’t make it sound like I was pimping you out—he’d never be convinced by that. I made a lot of crude remarks about you to him so his heroic side would get riled up. I’m positive he’ll come get you for a checkup this afternoon. And we can take advantage of it.”

Riana was starting to follow his line of thought—although she was still disturbed by the idea of Davis’ possible interest. And she started to see possibilities in such a straightforward way of getting out of the Hold and into a better position to escape.

Maybe they could get out of here after all.

Maybe they could get out of here today.

* * * * *

She should have known by now not to doubt Cain.

He wasn’t the brute, mindless predator he appeared on first sight. He was far more intelligent and articulate than he appeared. And he was clearly a strategist—gifted at reading people, situations and undercurrents and making plans accordingly.

And he was nearly always right.

Davis did come for her that afternoon to take her to the checkup.

Cain had been doing one-arm push-ups—working off some of his excess energy—

and Riana had just been lying on the bed, admiring the sleek power of his rippling muscles and the primal masculinity of his body, covered with the sheen of perspiration.

When the vehicle pulled up beside the cell, just as it had the day before, Riana got up immediately and stood by the bed.

“Unlock the cell,” Davis called out.

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Cain pulled himself up from the floor and stood stock still, glowering in the direction of the vehicle. He looked grim, stubborn, bristling. And he made no move to follow the curt order.