Outlander (Borealis) (2 page)

“I know you will.” God’s face had a faraway melancholy as if
he wasn’t sure Marcus would succeed, but when he spoke again, his words lacked
emotion. “Seal your bond and give her a name.”

“Yes, Master, but the imprinting?”

“She couldn’t bear it now. Settle her heart and mind and
we’ll go from there.”

Though the Borealian God was evidently not intent on sending
me home, I tried to focus on the positive—he hadn’t ordered my death or
torture. And he was putting Marcus in charge of me and he was a nice guy…or
rather a nice
alien
. Shit
.

Anger gripped me. Galen and Marcus had left me vulnerable
and defenseless. If they were such good men, why hadn’t they protected me when
I needed them the most?

They kept their heads bowed until God left the room.

While I seethed, Galen removed my gag and dissolved my
restraints. As soon as I was free I lashed out at him, clawing his face. I
screamed and cursed until Marcus came up from behind and wrapped his arms
around me, holding my hands still. “Calm yourself! We are trying to help you!”

Galen’s face was a crisscross of bloody scratches. Instead
of resentment, his expression showed a mix of compassion and pity. I was
instantly filled with shame. These two men hadn’t abducted me from my planet
and brought me here against my will. This was not their fault. “I’m sorry. I’m
just so scared.”

He gave me a small smile. “I know. You’re not yourself.”

Galen placed his palms over his face. I thought he was about
to cry, but then beams of bright light shot from his hands and spilled out
between his fingers. When he lifted his hands from his face, his skin was
perfect and unmarred.

I gasped. How was that possible? How was any of this
possible?

Untethered from everything I knew, I curled into a ball.

With a nod to Marcus, Galen made his way to the door. “Your
Dominus will take care of you,” he said over his shoulder. “I will check on
your progress tomorrow.”

When the door closed, I wiped the drool from my mouth and
chin. Even though he wasn’t trying to traumatize me on purpose, he needed to
know this behavior was unacceptable. “This is abusive!”

“What is?” He was clearly stung by the accusation.

“You tying me down, gagging me, leaving me naked and exposed
while that…that
man
ogled and touched me. What is wrong with you
people?” Aside from the fact that you’re not human.

Marcus struggled to find the right words. “I’m sorry this
seems depraved to you, but this is how we live. It’s not meant as a threat.” He
blew out a breath. “I’ll try to remember that you have no memory of our ways.”

“Why did you restrain and gag me? Explain that to me!”

“You were unstable. If we had not gagged you, you may have
said or done something to anger God. In a fit of rage he could have killed
you.” Under his breath he said, “Though, this is his fault.”

I was suddenly very cold. “But I haven’t done anything
wrong. What gives any of you the right to keep me here?”

My question was met with dumbfounded silence.

I hugged myself tighter. There had to be some way to
convince him I was an outlander even though it was clear that Marcus had the
opposite goal—to persuade me that I was Borealian.

He straightened and took a measured look at me. “The first
thing you need to learn about Borealis is that everyone is classified by their
erotic roles. Dominants, like me, are in charge of submissives.” He paused for
a moment and spoke in gentle tone, “like you.”

I balled my hands into fists. “Me, submissive? I don’t
fucking think so!”

Sighing, Marcus shook his head.
“God said you had
dominant and submissive tendencies. You need to choose to be submissive and do
it quickly.”

“Why do I have to choose?”

“On Borealis our kind can only absorb one nature.”

“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “I choose to be dominant.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “If you choose that path,
you’ll…he’ll...” He stopped himself and swallowed. “Because you have no memory
of Borealis, you cannot be a proper Dominant.”

“What do you mean?”

“You will not survive as a Dominant on Borealis. Do you
understand?”

A knot formed in my throat. If I didn’t become a submissive,
they would kill me.

He was scared for me and repeated his words again. “Do you
understand?”

“Yes,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

“Good.” Marcus took a deep breath. Apparently, dealing with
the likes of me was exhausting. “You will call me Dominus or Dom. I, and other
Dominants or members of the court, will refer to you as sub or submissive. And
after I name you, we can call you by your name.”

I blinked. All this talk of dominance and submission sounded
like BDSM—Bondage, Dominance, Submission and… hell, I couldn’t remember what
the M was for. I thought I had heard those terms related to that lifestyle, but
this went far beyond playful kinkiness, it was the law. And I was pretty sure I
wouldn’t be given a safe word.

“And you’re my,” I started, trying to swallow my anxiety,
“Dom?”

“Yes, I am.” His words were marked with affection, maybe
even pride. “My life path is to care for you.”

“And my life path?”

“To obey, trust and feel.”

So this was my new reality. I would have to obey this
stranger, this
alien
and conform to this planet’s rules or end up dead.
I could choose to fight, which would have an excellent probability of getting
me killed or worse or I could learn all I could and wait until the right time
to make my move, though I had no idea what that move would be.

My survival instinct kicked in prodding me to at least
pretend to adapt, but I still hadn’t lost hope of returning to Earth. There had
to be a way.

I wiped my tears away with the heel of my hand. I would do
what Marcus said. He took his role seriously and seemed to be a caring man, if
only I could get him to listen to me.

I sniffled. Maybe I could convince him of the truth I knew
in my heart, but I would have to be careful. “I want to go home.”

He reached for a wicker basket placed on a narrow table.
From it he removed a bundle of reddish-brown fabric which he laid on the bed
beside me. “You
are
home.”

Like the other clothing I had seen in Borealis, this one
screamed of ancient Rome.

After wrapping the sheet around me, I fisted the outfit with
my free hand and examined it. It consisted of two rust-colored pieces made from
a soft, but textured fabric. The edges were rough cut and slightly frayed. The
sleeveless top crisscrossed in front and plunged into a severe V-line. A
perfect slave girl outfit. “I’m not wearing this,” I said as I turned it over
with disgust.

“You either wear this or nothing at all,” he said flatly.

I shot daggers at him.

“Try it on and then decide.”

I pointed to my bare feet. “And where are the shoes?”

“We only wear sandals if we’re going to walk on rugged
terrain. For now we’re going to stay indoors so you won’t need them.”

I huffed my displeasure.

After making a show of my loathing of the outfit, I made a
twirling motion with my fingers. “Turn around.”

Marcus shook his head slowly and glared at me. “I do not
take orders from you.”

My lips trembled as I struggled to make a connection with
this alien’s humanity. I was lost, terrified and I needed some time to take this
all in. “Please!”

For a few seconds he didn’t say anything. Finally, he rolled
his eyes and turned around.

It was crucial to my survival that I fit in, but I had to
take baby steps.

As soon as he turned around, I dropped the sheet and studied
myself. I didn’t have any pubic hair. Is that how I wore it or was that their
doing?

Though I hadn’t seen myself in a mirror, the tone of my body
and the upward lilt of my breasts made me think I was in my twenties. My
stomach was flat, but there was no six-pack like Marcus’s. My skin was fair, my
nipples a rose pink. Gold tresses cascaded well below my shoulders in loose
ringlets.

I took a breath and slipped the top over my head. The
neckline went down just above my belly button and it hung so loosely that if I
moved too quickly or bent over, one or both of my breasts would be exposed.
“This is offensive and degrading.”

When Marcus started turning around, I scolded him and he
humored me, though I could tell he was becoming more irritated every minute.

I put the bottom on. It was short and hung low on my hips. A
piece crossed over the front, but I couldn’t figure out how to hold it
together. “Shit!”

“I can help you with that.”

“I’ll figure it out!”

I slipped it off again and tried wearing it a different way,
but it hung in an even more ridiculous way. After several tries, I gave up.
“Okay, you win. I need help.”

Marcus smiled when he saw the mess I had made of my skirt.
His hands reached for it. “May I?” he said with mock genteelness. Obviously,
asking for permission was unusual for him, though I appreciated the effort.

He had already seen everything, so I nodded and tried not to
die of mortification.

Frowning, he examined my work and sighed. “Take it off, it’s
practically in a knot.”

I shut my eyes tight, feeling the blush creep across my
chest and neck and up to my face. “Fine.”

His fingers hooked over the top of the skirt, then slid it
off my body ever so slowly, tickling my skin the whole way down.

With my fist perched on my hip, I glared at him. “Really?”

He beamed at me. “I couldn’t help myself.”

I crossed my arms, trying not to smile. He was unnervingly
gorgeous and kind of adorable.

With that he pulled the skirt off completely and I stood
there, bottomless. His eyes stayed on my bare mounds for a couple of heartbeats,
but soon he busied himself with my skirt. He untied it and it looked the way I
had first seen it. “Let’s try this again.”

He held it open for me and I stepped into it, putting my
hand on his shoulder for balance. In two seconds it was on.

He tied the last string on my hip that held my skirt
together. “There.”

“Am I a slave?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Slaves are people who are owned by other people against
their will. And they are made to do things for them, things they don’t want to
do.”

“Then you are not a slave.”

That was good news, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. “So I’m
free? I can do what I want or go wherever I want to go, whenever I want to?”

Sucking on his lower lip, he considered my question. “If
that is what I want you to do, but you are missing the point. You and I are as
one. You follow my lead and my instruction as I follow God’s.”

Wonderful. I had landed on a planet ruled by kinky sex
and
religion.

“Does God let you do what you want?”

“Within reason and at certain times.”

“What would happen if we disobeyed God?”

His features darkened. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

When the anxiety kicked in, I raised my voice. “Is it harsh
punishment? Imprisonment? Death?” I had to know what I was dealing with here.
Like it or not, I had to blend in to survive until I could figure out how to
get back home.

“It depends on how egregious the disobedience is and God’s
mood at the time.”

“Then we are not free!” I threw up my hands. My head felt
huge, like a large balloon that was going to carry me off into never-ending
space. 

He touched my bottom lip with his finger. “We are free to
love each other. That’s all that matters.”

Is that what the Dominant/submissive relationship was about
in Borealis? We were supposed to be lovers? I had only just met this man. How
was I expected to love him?

Then again, my skin hummed when he touched me. Marcus made
me feel safe and wanted. Oh, hell, none of it made sense!

I was also puzzled that I could understand everything they
said to me. They spoke English fluently. “This is going to sound like an odd
question.”

“You can ask me anything.”

“What language do you speak?”

He seemed surprised by the question. “What is language?”

Wow, I didn’t expect that. I decided to take a step back.
Maybe Borealians called language by another word. I strained to think like an
alien and tried another angle. “This planet is divided into different
continents, countries or cities, right?”

“I don’t know what any of those words mean either.”

A chill ran through me. I had to get a grip. This would
probably be one of many shocking answers I would hear. “The entire planet of
Borealis is unified? It isn’t sectioned off into smaller groups?”

“We are divided by our life paths and erotic roles, if
that’s what you mean.”

I felt lightheaded. I couldn’t imagine how any planet could
remain completely united. How was I ever going to find my bearings when the
answers to my questions confused me even more?

He eyed me warily, obviously sensing and disliking my
anxiety. “You’ve experienced a great trauma. I will do everything I can to set
you back on your path.” He extended his hand. “Come.”

Though I was trying to appear calm, I flinched. With so many
unknowns, I wasn’t sure what to expect. “Where?”

The lines on his face hinted that I had hit the top of his
tolerance level. I sensed he was not used to being second-guessed. Or perhaps
in Borealis, all women obeyed men. A disturbing thought. “Our cell.”

My chest constricted. A cell—more evidence that we were
slaves. “Am I a prisoner?”

He blew out an annoyed breath as if he was insulted that I
would even think such a thing. “You are my charge, not my prisoner. Our cell is
the room where we live.”

“But—” I began.

He cut me off by enclosing his warm hand around mine. “Trust
me.”