Outlander (Borealis) (3 page)

And against all reason, I did. Even though Marcus baffled
and sometimes infuriated me, I believed him when he said he would take care of
me. Besides, I had to have an ally in this strange place and Marcus was the
best contender for the job.

 

The hallway outside of the healing room was like the room
itself—bright, almost too much so.

“The healing room and this hall were created by God’s
Light,” Marcus explained.

I squinted through the glare until we reached an arched
pewter door, divided into several panels. Each panel was intricately carved
with patterns of flowers, fish and birds. It had a mother-of-pearl cast that
glowed when seen from an angle. The knob was a round pink crystal pulsing with
light.  

Marcus opened the door, then ushered me through it, revealing
a passage to a new world.

Chapter 2

The room was the size of a football field with the height
and architecture of a gothic cathedral. With countless arches, flying
buttresses and carved moldings, it was breathtaking. It must have taken decades
to build.

The walls and ceilings were painted in pale hues with
accents of gold and silver. The only bright color came from a narrow ring of
stained glass windows that circled the structure just above eye level. Creamy
marble veined with pure gold covered the floors. A few kidney-shaped chaises
upholstered in colorful silk fabrics were scattered about. In the center there
was a small round stage. Beyond the glass cupola above us we could see a dark
blue sky smeared with blurry, amorphous bands of turquoise, pink and purple.

“The Aurora Borealis,” I said under my breath. This had to
be where the planet got its name.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Marcus squeezed my hand. He was proud of this place as if
he’d built it himself. “It is stunning, isn’t it?”

Dazed, I nodded mechanically, trying to take in every
exquisite detail. “What is this place?”

“This is the heart of God’s Holy Palace.”

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Or so I
thought. Though I didn’t have memories of my own life and history, I had feelings,
impressions of having a past. The images faded in and out just enough to
reassure me of my belief that I was not from Borealis. I gazed up with wonder.
“And the sky.”

“You should see it from God’s bed chambers. The view is
extraordinary.”

I stiffened. I didn’t want to have anything to do with God’s
bedroom.

“Who built the palace?”

“Architects and other Borealians whose life path is to build
and create.”

“And we live here?”

“On a different floor, beneath the heart of the palace. But
we will spend a lot of time up here in worship and rituals.”

My chest tightened. I felt an awful sense of foreboding. Did
he just say—? “Rituals? What rituals?”

“Mostly the ritual to draw out the Goddess as God has
commanded.”

An angry spot hardened behind my chest. I spoke through
clenched teeth. “He is not
my
God.”

“Of course he is,” he said matter-of-factly. “There is only
one God.”

I recalled the way his God had ogled me earlier. “Your God
looked at me like he was going to eat me for breakfast.”

Marcus chuckled. “He’s quite taken with you—as it should be.
You’re special.” He licked his lips and pressed his forehead against mine. “And
I
will eat you for breakfast.”

Butterflies batted in my stomach. “W-what?”

He ignored my question and smiled wickedly.

I couldn’t figure Marcus out. He was undoubtedly a sexual
being and there was a note of danger in him too. At the same time he was gentle
and caring.  

My hand in his, we made our way through the Holy Palace.
Marcus produced a key that was attached to his belt. With it he opened another
stunning door made of pure gold. It had a small window at eye level. Beyond the
door, we walked for a few feet and then down a primitive clay staircase. The
walls were reddish-orange and the atmosphere was a 180-degree turn from the
Holy Palace.

After we passed the third row of torches fastened to the
walls, I stopped. “If you have electricity, why don’t you use it down here?”

Following my line of sight to the torches, he seemed to
understand what I meant, although the word “electricity” was foreign to him.
“God’s Light is used mostly for healing, classifying and rituals, but it also
lights the floor above us because God spends most of his time there. It is
forbidden to use his light to illuminate our floor.”

Seeing my eyes widen like saucers, he pressed a tender kiss
on the back of my hand. “This must seem incredibly overwhelming right now.
Don’t try to grasp it all at once.”

I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to be a problem.

 

The majesty of the Holy Palace vanished when we reached the
bottom of the stairs. It was the polar opposite of the bright,
elegantly-appointed room I had passed through just moments ago.
Ancient
catacombs
were the words that sprang to mind. Clay floors and ceilings were
lit by well-spaced torches that cast a warm, flickering light. The stone walls
reached about nine feet, making the place appear claustrophobic in comparison
to the heart of the Holy Palace. Water seeped out of several crevices in the
walls. The aroma of red clay and moisture saturated the air.

I ran my fingertips along the rough-hewn stone walls. “This
is different.”

“Looks can be deceiving, little sub. This place holds
unimaginable beauty, but you won’t find it in the walls or the floors.”

Little sub.
I was his submissive. I had no idea how I
was going to fake that. I stowed my fears away, choosing instead to study and
listen. The more information I had, the better my chances of getting back to
Earth. “What is this place called?”

“These are the Dom’s quarters.” Marcus tucked a lock of hair
behind my ear and gave me a small smile. “But we call it home.”

Home in a planet outside my universe. A thought too sobering
to sink in at the time.  

When we arrived at a wide hallway, the quarters looked more
like jail than home. Iron bars lined the two rows of cells that appeared to go
on forever. Each cell had the same dimensions, about the size of a modern
master bedroom. Within each cell was an iron bed, a rosette window, what looked
like a small primitive kitchen, a rustic table with two chairs, a bench and two
sets of cedar chests. There were no photographs, mirrors, paintings or knick
knacks. Though simple and practical, the cells gave off a homey charm.  

A couple lived inside each cell. I guessed their ages to be
the same, somewhere around late twenties. Although some of the couples were
heterosexual, just as many were homosexual. However, the majority of
submissives were women and every single one of them was gorgeous. That’s no
exaggeration.

On Earth they would have been movie stars or Victoria Secret
models. Each woman was a stunning, natural beauty. Their looks were not
enhanced by cosmetics or plastic surgery.  The blush on their cheeks was
real, as was the ruby on their lips and their long, thick lashes. The female
submissives came in every race imaginable like they were contestants in some
intergalactic beauty pageant.

Did my face compared to theirs?

Female Dommes had striking looks as well, but their bodies
were more statuesque and muscled. They wore skin tight, one shoulder togas and
similar leather and metal arm gear as the men. All Dom/mes, male or female, had
the same tattoo inked over their chest.

As I shuffled next to my Dom, I noted that he was at least
8-10 inches taller than me. In fact, every Dominant was considerably taller and
more muscled than their submissives. Like the women, the men were exceptional
with their defined physiques and sculptured faces, though their most appealing
attribute was their raw sex appeal. They carried themselves with calm control,
aware of their surroundings and somewhat on guard.

I smiled to myself when I decided that of all the men,
Marcus was the cream of the crop.

In one of the cells, two men kissed each other with a
tenderness that transfixed me. The Dom was well-built like Marcus. The sub was
slighter with softer features. They appeared to be very much in love. When the
sub caught me staring at them, he smiled shyly, quickly lowering his gaze. His
Dom locked eyes with me. Though he wasn’t giving me an angry look, the
intensity was disarming. I all but bumped into Marcus, feeling threatened.

Marcus gave me a curious expression then glanced at the
other Dom. “That is Dominus Thaddeus. He is glaring at you because you made eye
contact with him. Always keep your eyes downcast when you are in the presence
of a Dom. It shows respect.”

I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I think he wants to hurt
me,” I whispered, clinging to Marcus’s arm.

He stopped in front an empty cell. “Nobody will hurt you as
long as you’re with me.”

A cold chill prickled my skin as he opened the cell’s iron
door, motioning me to go inside. When we were at the other side, he locked the
door and put the key away.

I wrapped my fingers around the cold metal bars. “The cells
are locked from the inside?”

“To keep us safe.”

I spun around. “From what?”

He cleared his throat and tried to appear neutral. “Another
time.”

Filled with angst, I was frightened and lost, but I did as I
was told, fearing what might happen if I disobeyed.

I wondered who I had left behind back on Earth: parents or
siblings, perhaps a husband and children. The possibilities weighed heavily on
me. Were they combing the streets frantically searching for me, sending out
alerts for me through various media sources? Maybe they had a Facebook page
dedicated to my disappearance. They probably thought I had been kidnapped or
murdered. Instead I was playing house with an alien.

“Are you cold?” Marcus asked when he saw me trembling.

I nodded my answer, though I was more scared than cold.

He opened the bottom drawer of one of the chests and fished
out what look like alpaca pelt. He wrapped the rough white fur around my
shoulders. “You have been through a lot. You should sleep.”

An iron bed, about the size of a Queen bed, was in the
center of the room. That felt wrong. Beds should be against walls. The mattress
was stuffed with feathers; the seams sown by hand, as were the pillows. The
off-white sheets were cotton or linen. Soft, but not luxurious. A crimson wool
blanket was folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

Quietly, he removed his arm gear and his belt, like a
husband coming home from work, putting away the contents of his pockets.

I took a deep breath and drank in the vision that was
Dominus Marcus Alexis. He was flawless from head to toe with the kind of body
that has been praised as the masculine ideal since the beginning of time. He
had broad shoulders, roped biceps, ripped abs and sinewed legs; the practiced
physique of a gladiator with the face of a Roman god.

But he wasn’t human. Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes
as emotions bested my resolve. “I just want to go home. My home, where I’m
from, but I don’t even know exactly where that is.”

With his thumb, he stopped a tear before it rolled down my
cheek. I didn’t doubt his concern was real, but he didn’t believe I was from
another planet and that stung.

“You need to sleep,” he said sweetly.

Hyped up on adrenaline as I was, sleep would be impossible,
but I decided to placate him. I could pretend to sleep and instead start
planning my return to Earth.  

He slid the alpaca skin off my shoulders and laid it on top
of the sheets. I crept under the warm layers and remained still, hoping the
shivering would stop. I had to devise a way to get back to my real home. Maybe
I could hot wire a spaceship. Yeah, right.

When Marcus slipped under the sheets next to me, I tensed.
“What are you doing?” I said, tucking the covers under my chin.

He sighed his frustration and raised the volume of his
voice. “This is
our
bed. We sleep together. You are freezing and my body
heat will warm you.”

Speechless, I could only blink at him. I was cold and he was
hot, but he was a stranger. Maybe all the kindness was an act to gain my
confidence so he could take advantage of me.

His tone was calm again. “I won’t do anything you don’t want
me to do.”

Shaking visibly, but believing him, I sunk my cheek on the
pillow and curled into a ball. Marcus spooned me, wrapping his beefy right arm
over my right shoulder, his knees tucked behind the backs of mine. The warmth
from his body instantly dissolved the chill and I felt protected.

“Sleep, little sub,” he whispered into my ear. And as if
those were magic words, I was instantly swept into a delightful dream about
vibrant skies and twinkling stars.

Chapter
3

I woke up tangled in Marcus’s arms. I slept deeply and long
without waking up once, something I thought would be impossible under these
circumstances.

The room had taken on a golden cast as the sun’s rays beamed
through the glassless window.

Now that morning had arrived it was time to face my current
situation head-on. I had no idea where to start. I looked at Marcus hoping he
would have answers for me.

His lips curled into a sleepy smile. He studied my face as
he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. “You look gorgeous in the
morning.”

I didn’t know what to say. We barely knew each other and he
acted like he was in love with me. Or maybe that’s how it worked here in
Borealis.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing about all of this was how
easy it was to trust Marcus. Too easy. Though he had a sensual dark side that
came with his Dominant nature, he was a caring man. Then again, I was probably
seeing what I wanted to see.

My Dom’s eyes were cobalt blue that gradually turned into a
light green around the iris. Dark lashes outlined his eyes dramatically, making
them stand out even more. His lips were full and unbelievably sexy. God, he was
delicious.

You think you can trust him because he’s hot!
I
scolded myself, trying to stay focused on my goal to get off this planet alive.

I braved a look out the flower-shaped window. Just outside
the room horses grazed on an emerald green pasture. I could see a lake or river
beyond it and gorgeous purple mountains in the background. The scene was
pastoral and serene. There was even a dog barking in the distance. Not at all
what I expected on another planet.

So far the people, animals and landscape reminded me of
Earth, which was a huge relief. I wasn’t up for rubbing elbows with the giant
insects or man-eating reptiles from sci-fi movies. Suddenly, I remembered
watching an alien burst out of Sigourney Weaver’s stomach.

Ah, an earth memory! This was a good sign. Maybe my memory
would return and I could piece the puzzle of my life back together. At the very
least I wanted to know my name.

“What happens now?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“We start our daily routine.”

“Which is?”

“I will feed you, bathe you and train you.”

Appalled, I glared at him. “I can feed and bathe myself,
thank you very much!”

He tugged on my lower lip. “I know you can feed and bathe
yourself, but I’m your Dom and you are my sub. As my charge you will allow me
to care for you.”

“I will?” I said, rather unpleasantly. Though I didn’t know
who I was, I was a modern woman and that meant I was not used to being ordered
around.

He narrowed his eyes at me, leaving no room for argument.
“Oh, yes, you will.”

Damn him. I took a deep breath and convinced myself that
everything would be fine. He wanted to care for me. Care was good. It was
harmless. I could handle care. “And the training?”

He rose out of bed—our bed!—and walked to a cabinet in what
I guessed was a kitchen area. He removed two small leather satchels and two
wooden bowls from the cabinet and placed them on the table. “I will tell you
after breakfast.”

I wriggled uncomfortably in my seat, trying to adjust my
obscene top to maintain a shred of modesty. No food or water had passed my lips
in Borealis and yet my stomach wasn’t growling and my throat wasn’t parched.
Still, I had to be careful. There was no way I would survive this if I didn’t stay
nourished and strong.

Breakfast was a good idea, though I wondered if the food
would be palatable or even digestible for an earthling. Borealians were human
or humanoid. I hoped that meant our food was compatible. “You don’t even know
what I like to eat.”

“You will like what I like,” he said sensibly.

I let the incredibly sexist comment go. Curiosity got the
best of me and I shuffled to his side, watching as he took what looked like
granola from one bag and dates from another.

“How long have you been a Dom?”

He poured the grains into the bowls. “This is my life path.
I have always been a Dom.”

I had the distinct impression his life path had been
assigned to him, though he certainly appeared content with the choice. “How
many submissives have you had?”

“Several in my training, but they weren’t really mine.”

The subtle hint that I was his unsettled me. Even though I
didn’t understand what that meant yet, I could do much worse than Marcus
Alexis. “How many real submissives do Doms usually have?”

“Only one. We bond for life, little sub.”

My stomach did a summersault. As mind-altering as that was,
I couldn’t or wouldn’t think about it now. Soon it wouldn’t matter anyway. I
would convince the leaders of this crazy planet that I didn’t belong here and
they would find a way to get me back home.

When I reached for one of the granola-filled bowls, he
snatched my wrist. “
I
feed you.”

For the life of me I didn’t know why he thought I was useless.
Though I couldn’t remember who I was, I was perfectly capable of feeding
myself. Scowling, I sat on a bench that had been pushed under a rustic table.
“Why are you treating me like a child?”

“What is a child?” he said, with a curious expression.

The question floored me. Fine hairs spiked on the nape of my
neck as the meaning of his question hung thick in the air. “How old are you,
Marcus?”

“Old?”

“What is your age?”

Still puzzled, Marcus glanced at me like I was speaking
gibberish. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was impossible, it had to be. I tried another angle.
“What did you look like when you were born, when you first came to Borealis?”

His mood lightened. “Oh, you mean the day God created me?”

That was an odd way to put things. “Yes.”

He shrugged as he sat next to me, a bowl in each hand. “I
looked how I look now.”

My throat almost closed up. I couldn’t believe what I was
hearing. “Your first day of life, you looked just like this?” I asked, my hands
gesturing to his athletic physique.

“Yes, but without clothes.”

“You weren’t smaller?”

He cocked his head and gaped at me like I was thick-headed.
“I looked like this on my first day of life and I will look like this on my
last.”

“Exactly like this?”

“Of course.”

My hand flew to my mouth and I sat awkwardly still, unable
to speak. No birth, no children, no aging, how could that be?

“You’re upset.” There was a hint of alarm in his voice. “Let
me empty your troubled thoughts.”

He took a handful of granola and held it cupped in front of
my mouth.

Upon seeing my confusion, he pulled it to his own mouth and
ate a bite. “Like this.” He moved his hand near my lips and smiled with
encouragement. “You’ll like it.”

He wanted me to eat out of his hand! After a deep breath I
steadied myself.
You need to fit in. It’s only granola, not worms or
kittens. Shut up and eat it!

Cautious, I opened my mouth little by little while my eyes
stayed on Marcus. After a brief internal debate, I took a bite of the granola,
scraping my teeth against his palm as I did so. It was extraordinary. “Mmm.”

The flavors were more fragrant and complex than I expected.
My mouth was moist, not dry as I chewed it. After my first swallow, I lowered
my mouth on his hand again, appreciating the sensuality of eating out of his
hand. When only a few grains remained, I licked my lips. “That was good.”

When he still hadn’t removed his hand from under my chin, I
frowned and he nodded at me.

“Eat all of it, little sub.”

“I have,” I insisted.

“There is still some food stuck to my hand. Lick it off,
every last grain.”

I gaped at him.

“If you don’t eat it all I will have to discipline you and
you’re not ready for that.”

I thought about asking him what he meant by
discipline
,
but decided against it. Warily, I poked out my tongue and slid it over his
palm.

“Good girl.”

For some reason his praise made me eager to please him. With
more enthusiasm I licked his palm, his wrist, the space between his fingers,
every grain, until he was clean.

After studying his hand, he was satisfied. “There’s hope for
you yet.”

He pulled a copper pitcher from a shelf and poured it into a
matching goblet. He raised it under my lips and I drank while he held the
goblet.

When I finished, he scarfed down his breakfast. While he
ate, I made a quick mental list of what I had learned so far: there was no
birth, no children and no stages of life. Time was not measured, at least not
to the point of months or years. Borealians were assigned life paths, which were
like vocations. Within each vocation, they were assigned erotic roles. The men
and women in the cells around me belonged to the Erotic life path. They were
each divided into erotic roles of either Dominants or submissives, which could
be of any sexual orientation. They slept in cells that were locked from the
inside and I was expected to participate in a ritual to draw out the goddess.
And for some confounding reason, their names and clothing reeked of the Roman
Empire.

I jumped when he set his goblet on the tablet with a loud
clang. His eyes locked with mine. A dreamy voice imbued with sensuality dripped
from his lips. “Take off your clothes, sub.”

“What?” I all but spit out the word as I crossed my arms in
defiance. “No!”

“I have seen your body in its natural state several times
already.” His carnal gaze stayed on me. “I want to see it again.”

I hugged myself and tried to reason with him. “Where I’m
from, we have to get to know each other better before…before I take my clothes
off in front of you.”

He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his
palm. “Why?”

“Because!”

His eyes stayed on me, his expression unchanged.

I sighed with exasperation. “Because it’s a personal,
intimate experience that you don’t share with strangers.” There, that was a
perfectly good explanation.

“I’m not a stranger, I’m your Dominus. And I want to see all
of you. Now.” His tone remained gentle, but a firm edge had crept in.

My muscles tensed in alarm. “And if I don’t?”

“I will discipline you.”

I dug my fingers into my hips and glared at him. “You said
you would never make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“That’s correct.”

I was perplexed for a minute until I gave it some thought. I
had to admit that despite my protests, the idea of standing naked in front of
Marcus turned me on. The dampness between my legs testified to it. I couldn’t
be forced to do something I wanted to do.

“Well?” he asked with a healthy measure of impatience.

I thought about good girls and bad girls, social rules and
proper behavior, heaven and hell. Then I remembered I was on another planet
with a man I was terribly attracted to who was treating me well and who could
be my ticket back home. If there was ever a time to indulge in guilt-free
pleasure, this was it.

Taking in a sharp breath, I squared my shoulders. Before I
could change my mind I wriggled out of my clothes, prepared to embark on my
very own intergalactic Rumspringa.

“Was that so difficult?”

“Yes.” I blushed when I realized my nipples were puckering.
The sensual breakfast had me worked up. I didn’t like that he could have such
an effect on me.

“I’ve never seen such a magnificent sight.”

A lump formed in my throat. He spoke with reverent awe and
it moved me. Though we had only met a couple of days ago, I could feel a bond
forming between us.

No, that was absurd. I was probably experiencing an alien
form of Stockholm syndrome coupled with serious horniness!

He motioned to the bed. “Lie on your back.”

My heart flapped like a fish caught in a net. At the Holy Palace,
Marcus said he was going to eat me for breakfast. I hoped he didn’t mean that
literally. “What for?”

“Just do it. All you have to do is feel and listen. I’ll
take care of the rest.”

Although I was shaky, I was even more aroused than before.
As much as I hated myself for it, I wanted him.

Hesitantly, I climbed on the bed like a good little sub.

On a table next to the bed there were several black silk
scarves in a pile. He folded one lengthwise and was about to use it as a
blindfold. I gasped as he reached for my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared.” A blindfold involved more trust than I could
muster.

Marcus looked at me with such sincere tenderness, that it
melted me a little. “You never have to fear me. I exist only to love you.”

Love again. I had to admit that as crazy as it sounded, I
was developing strong feelings for Marcus. The jury was still out on whether
those feelings originated from a place of caring or lust.

After I nodded my permission, he blindfolded me. I tingled
as his weight dented the mattress. The little hairs on my arms stood at
attention.

“I’m going to tie your wrists and ankles. The erotic
restraint of a submissive is how we worship God.”

What?!
 There was so much crazy in that
statement, I didn’t know where to start. I sat up and started to remove my
blindfold. “Wait! God is going to be here?”

Marcus pried my fingers away from the blindfold and gently
laid me back on the bed. “Not in physical form, but he is always watching.”

I half-expected God to hover above the bed and stare at us
lasciviously like some demon in a horror movie.

I trembled when Marcus clutched my hands. After patting my
palms with kisses, he wound a silky fabric loosely around my wrists. He rested
my bound hands on my belly. He slid his palms down the sides of my thighs and
gripped my ankles. He pushed my legs up and pressed my knees to the mattress so
the soles of my feet were touching each other and my thighs were on the
mattress. When he finished, my feet and ankles were tied together. My sex was
completely exposed to him.

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