“What are you saying?”
“We’ve compensated you generously. You’re free to return to your world and reclaim rule from your thirteen sons. But the human goes back into the Dinodome.”
“That’s not the deal.”
“Well, remember, deals can always be altered if and when necessary. And you must know that there is nothing immutable in this universe…”
“If you touch her…”
“If I touch her, I touch her,” he says, his voice turning cold as the real intellect behind the foppish exterior is allowed to shine through. Eschaton is a psychopath. He feels nothing, and therefore he has to quantify everything. For those with no sense of love or passion, numbers must stand in their stead. “What you must understand, King Rex, is that you have chosen to remain here…”
I have not chosen anything. I have been in this blackmailer’s debt since I pawned myself to save my world. He believes me weak because his numbers tell him I am. He looks at my massive, muscular body, and he believes that he is stronger. These are the delusions of the wealthy, and inevitably they will be revealed as nonsense.
“You have chosen this, and therefore you must continue to cooperate. If you do not, it is very possible that your mate might have a mishap. There are so very many ways an inhabitant of the Dinodome might pass away…”
He’s threatening me, but worse, he’s threatening Kristine. I grit my teeth and keep my tongue still. I have my plans, but they are taking time to enact. Being impatient will only destroy them. I have to stall for time.
“I will ensure that she is suitably entertaining at her next appearance.”
“Oh, I am sure she will be.” Eschaton’s eyes glitter at the prospect of fresh profits. “She’s not an advertising sort of asset. She’s a, let’s-see-if-she-makes-it through-this-situation kind of asset. Basically, we draw out killing her for as long as possible. She’s actually pretty good at making it through, so…”
“We are not doing any of that. If you touch her, I will kill you. I promise you that.”
I return to my mate, ready to sink myself inside her. Her flesh satisfies, but never fully sates. I think I will be hungry for her body for all of eternity. Death will not keep us apart, I am certain of that. We have a bond beyond bonds, a deeper chemistry, the kind of magic which returns couples back to one another lifetime after life…
She’s gone.
The bed is empty.
He already fucking took her.
Ten
Kristine
I wake to find Tyche nuzzling me with surprising gentleness given she’s made of monstrous largeness, scales and horns.
The bedroom is gone. Civilization is gone. The ground is dirt and I am covered in a light dusting of it, suggesting that I’ve been knocked out and left for long enough for the forest winds to cover me in their debris.
“What the fuck?”
She makes a grunting sound as if she’s excited to see me. I have to admit, I've missed her. Tyche is a better person than most of the aliens I’ve encountered lately. She’s looking good. I guess she doesn’t have any trouble feeding herself. I reach up and rub her horn, then use it to help me get up from the ground where I’ve inexplicably found myself. I think for the rest of my life I’ll forever live in terror of just randomly appearing in this place.
“What the hell is going on? REX!?”
I call his name, but there’s no answer, and I can just sort of feel that he’s not here. I never knew how powerful his presence was before. Now that I am stuck in the absence of it, it’s very uncomfortable. I feel very vulnerable, and quite naked. The latter part makes sense, because I am naked.
I am outside the fortress he built, and of course my instinct is to go and hide inside it. I’m sure he’ll show up eventually. He wouldn’t leave me all on my own. He promised that he loves me, and when an alien king loves you, he doesn’t abandon you back inside the weird simulation where you met and fell in love.
I go up to the bedroom where the exposition chest still sits. A light layer of dust covers everything in the room, besides the chest. I can smell Rex and me here, our torrid sweat having soaked into the bedding. We have been emerging into the air all this time. Is that gross, or romantic? Most romantic things are kind of gross if you think about them long enough.
I open the chest. Because Rex isn’t here to tell me not to, and at this point, I want to know the truth.
“So,” I say, mindful that there’s probably an audience watching all of this. “What the absolute fuck is going on?”
“You’re back,” the chest says. “This time, you’re back forever.”
“Where’s Rex?”