Low warning was growled at her ear. “You’re not allowed on Level 15 and you know it. Which is why I fucked you on the table when I found you.”
Which had been seen by more people than Eugenia was ever going to think about. Hell, he had drawn a crowd. His palm over her mouth, her arguments trapped. And even with all the wide-eyed scampering women fleeing the room, she came… so fast she hadn’t been prepared. And then he’d made her a sandwich.
Which she was forced to eat at that same table, while his cum leaked through her skirt and left a wet mark on the chair.
The sandwich had been good.
His angry glares had been better, though he was clearly baiting her.
Like he baited her with normal clothing. With Joan’s offerings of strawberries that were not farmed in winter from hidden fields in the dead wood.
All of it leading to the one place he wanted her to accept.
A place that sent a shiver up her spine when it passed her lips on an unsettled whisper. “You’re taking me to Level 9.”
Though he was spent, he thrust again. As if she felt like bliss and he’d never get enough. “And locking you in for the day.”
Enough compliments already. Heart sinking, she frowned. “Playing pretend for the last few weeks has been fun. What a shame real life always ruins things.”
“Oh, honey.” Turning her in his arms, Aaron pressed a kiss to her pouting mouth. “I know you’re scared, and I’m swearing to you it’s going to be okay.”
He hadn’t lied to her yet, but the gauge of what was and wasn’t okay was a largely gray area. “Don’t think you can keep me there if I don’t want to stay.”
Stern, he kissed her hard. “And you don’t think I won’t come after you no matter where you might wander off to. You belong here with me.”
***
He’d walked her to the entrance of Level 9, kissed her on the mouth as if dropping the little woman off at slavery camp was the normal way to start a day. Whistling to himself, he left her there. Where she could have turned tail and ran.
She was tempted to.
Very tempted.
Instead, Eugenia mustered up the courage to enter, ready to face what he’d built with her own eyes.
Joan was waiting on the other side. “You’re late.”
In more ways than one. Which, if the captain was keeping his calendar, he knew. “Let’s get this over with.”
That earned her a smirk. Like mother like son. “Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine this afternoon.”
That was her—nauseous ray of sunshine, Eugenia ready for her tour.
“As you can see, the promenade’s interior balconies have been converted into hanging edible gardens, of a sort. All refuse is mulched on ship. Level 6, same place chickens are kept to turn the mulch and fertilize it. Solar panels on the roof, though when spring storms come, they will be removed and stored.” Joan continued, clearly proud of all she displayed. “That’s always a fun month of cold showers and dark.”
Which deserved an epic eye roll. “You really have no idea what it’s like out there, do you, Joan?”
Halting so fast her bob swung, Joan turned, raising a finger. “Listen, young lady, you’re Mrs. Kingston now. How many times do I have to tell you it’s appropriate to call me Mother?”
“My last name is York.”
“Oh God.” As if the idea were truly appalling, Joan groaned. “Of course you’d be one of those women who insists on keeping their last name.”
Chuckling, because she had missed the banter, the petty squabbles, the normalcy, Eugenia said, “Just because he forces me to wear a ring and tells everyone we’re married doesn’t make it so.”
“I already told you the same thing I told him. There are no pastors on board!” Irritated and a bit flappish, Joan added, “Just… adapt… and pay attention.”
It really was too much fun to wind Joan up. “You know I’m an atheist, right?”