When She Dances

I grunt. It's not the question I was expecting. "They call me Zakoar of the Broken Back."

"Do you want my name?"

I give her a narrow-eyed look. I don't know what her goal is. "No," I decide. "I'm not keeping you, so there's no point."

"You have to call me something. It's Tessa." Her chin tilts up a little, as if she's being bold, and I can't decide if I'm charmed or irritated.

"I didn't ask."

"I know. But I'll probably respond quicker if you use my name instead of just 'girl.' I'm used to being around a lot of women, so it might not occur to me right away unless you use my name." She gives me an overly bright smile. "Do I call you just Zakoar or should I add on the Broken Back part?"

"Why do you ask?"

"So I know what to yell out in bed."

Her answer startles me, and I bark out a laugh. What to yell out in bed, indeed.7TESSAIt's the first time he's actually smiled since I got here.

I stare at my new owner—Zakoar of the Broken Back—and relax just a little at the sight of his smile. Only half his face moves—the rest a metal jaw—but I like the sight of it. It makes the corner of his one eye crinkle up with amusement and he looks softer, kinder. That's a relief, considering that he's been cold and remote ever since he rescued me.

Well, it's not really a rescue, I amend to myself. He bought me. He's made it quite clear what he wants from me. He wants sex, no cringing, no crying, no moaning my fate. He wants me willing. Doesn't have to be enthusiastic, just willing. And in exchange…he's going to free me. I'm going to live on a farm planet.

I'll see the sun again. I'll see green things. I'll be my own person.

All for catching a little cock? I'm absolutely on board.

This man—Zakoar—is hard to read, though. He watches me with intensity, but every time I speak, he seems a little…disgruntled. And he doesn't want to know my name. That's a little irksome, but does it matter as long as he's kind? A kind master is almost too much to hope for. But he's sitting me down and talking to me as if I have a choice in the matter. He's demanding sex…and then telling me I can refuse. That he wants me willing. He doesn't seem to grasp that my body hasn't been my own in years. Sex with a stranger is not my favorite, but…he's not exactly a stranger, is he?

He's the guy I pinned all my fantasies on. The one I made up stories about to get me through the day. And if he hasn't turned out to be Prince Charming, does it even matter? He's been decent. He's been forthright about what he wants. He gave me the tunic off his back to wear so I wouldn't have to wander the streets naked.

It could be so much worse.

I study his smile with one of my own and notice when his fades and a look of heat enters his gaze. He doesn't say anything, though, just stares at me with that intense focus, and I wonder if he's waiting for me to take the reins? Or does he need something more from me?

Well, if keeping him happy is part of the job, I should get to it. An idea comes to me, and I reach out and boldly touch his knee. I'm not entirely surprised to feel the hard metal underneath his trou—he's got a prosthetic leg. "Would it please you if I danced?"

Zakoar's eyes gleam. He gives me one short, crisp nod and leans back amongst the pillows, waiting.

Flustered at his silence—this would be so much easier if he said anything at all—I get to my feet. There's no music, and it doesn't look as if Zakoar's going to get up and turn any on. All right then, I wing it. I pull the tunic off and toss it onto the couch next to him, then slowly move, swaying to invisible music. I feel a little stupid. A lot stupid, actually. But he wanted a dancer, and so he's going to get one. I shimmy in a circle and swing my hips, making sure to bounce my ass and move in the way that the aliens who always crowded around my window stage seemed to appreciate.

I keep moving.

Minutes tick past, and I steal a glance over at him.

He doesn't look happy with me. If anything, he looks more frustrated. His jaw is set in that firm expression of dislike, made all the more obvious by the hard set of the metal part of his face. His eyes aren't warm in the slightest, and he looks impatient. Not bored, but irritated.

My steps falter. I want to stop and cover my breasts, but I worry it'll make him even more upset. "Do you…want sexier?" I dip low, spreading my legs so he can see all of me.