Temptation Protocol Pt 06

Chapter 28: Treaties

Sarea had begun to learn the layout of the Covenant building, much to her dismay. That didn't stay long on her mind though. The man next to her, the hard wall of muscle holding her up, took all of her focus. The drugs still coursed through her, and she found she couldn't keep him, or his needs, off her mind. Multiple times, she tried to push away from him, to walk on her own. The shame of her taking his help or burdening him without permission was almost too much, but her unsteady legs wouldn't carry her far, and Lucas brought her to his side with ease every time.

Her mind tossed and turned over the afternoon. What had he seen? How much had he revealed of her past? Sarea couldn't remember being more conflicted. One one hand, his breach of her mind was a terrible invasion of herself and her privacy, worse even than the physical aspects of her captivity. On the other hand, she was his, right? No part of her was sacred from Lucas, nor should it be.

Sarea shook that thought from her mind. The drugs. Sarea had grown up in poverty, had seen her friends fall to drugs or abuse or death over the years and never understood. She did now. It felt

right

to lean into how the drugs made her feel. To feel otherwise was wrong, painful. Yes, she understood now, and she was scared. She stumbled again, and Lucas kept her upright with firm, but gentle hands.

Mercifully, it wasn't until they were in their quarters with the door closed that Lucas picked her up entirely. Despite the conflict in her mind, Sarea wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her head into his chest. She knew this was the drugs, but she didn't care. For just this moment, he was a source of comfort, one she desperately needed, and she clung to him.

With a simple order, Lucas removed her skinsuit, telling her to lift her hips as he tugged it past her loins. Then he peeled his off, hanging both on the door of their bedroom. He said, "Wait here," then left the room. Sarea sat naked on the bed and hugged her knees to her chest, shaking. She thought she heard water running, but her mind only had space for what had just happened, what she had become. Even now, with him out of sight, she was considering what he might need, how she might serve. The part of her she had preserved made her want to scream in rebellion.

Worse was the bond itself. What was normally a thin veil was now a ragged wound, and through it poured all of her thoughts. Without being inside Lucas's mind, she knew he saw much of hers. His emotions came through more readily as well. Each of them surged against each other, unconscious desires and needs, conscious considerations. Lucas, it was clear, was holding back, reined in with tight control. She was grateful, at least, for that. Should he decide to push her, she'd crumble, and she was terrified of what he'd find.

After a few minutes, Lucas returned, dressed in a shirt and boxers, and lifted a hand to her from the doorway, "Come here, Sarea."

Relief washed through Sarea at his command, and she rose from the bed to take his hand. He led her to the bathroom, where he'd drawn a bath, the steam still in the air.

"Is this for me?" Sarea asked.

Lucas only nodded, guiding her to the tub. Sarea stepped into the water gingerly. It was almost scalding hot, but she sank in either way, her breath catching as she became used to the water's temperature. Sarea wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked in the water, her eyes downcast. Lucas turned to leave, then stopped when he realized she was just sitting. He considered for a moment, took a steadying breath, then came back toward the tub.

"Let me help you," he said, putting one foot in the water and sitting on the rim of the tub.

"No, no that's ok," Sarea stammered.

Lucas shushed her gently, dipping a washcloth into the water and soaking it in soap. Sarea was a little bundle of anxiety while Lucas scrubbed her arms, then her back. Sarea knew her tattoos would bring questions, questions she would have to answer if asked. Sarea watched the ripples in the water bounce around the tub, and tears welled in her eyes.

"Sarea," Lucas said, "Look at me."

Relief again. Sarea glanced up at Lucas. His eyes were the color of cresting waves. A shimmering blue flecked with gray, with kindness in them in droves. He sat hunched on the rim of the bathtub, his taut body still impressive at this angle. What was he to her? Who was he to her? He smiled at her then. Brilliant and wide, his first earnest smile since she'd met him.

"Will you relax for me, honey?" he said, dipping the cloth back in the water and gently pushing her to lean back, "I know that it's bleak right now, and I know neither of us wanted this dynamic, but it's here now. Let's take care of each other."

Sarea's tears broke free. A quiet sob escaped before she could control it, and Lucas leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"It's ok to cry," he said, lifting one of her arms away from her to run a washcloth over it.

Cry she did, at least for a few minutes. Sarea just let go. This had started as a simple job. In fact, that brothel wasn't even the first she'd broken into

that night

, and she'd left bodies at the others. Sarea was capable,

more

than capable, until she met Lucas. He played through the fight on the rooftop again, thinking of what she might have done differently to avoid this, this hell.

Is it hell? She wondered. It could be worse. Death is worse, certainly, and she could have been taken by a worse member of the gang. She looked back up at Lucas, who smiled, and she appraised him for what felt like the fiftieth time, considering if any good man could do the things he'd done in the last few days. What choice did he have, though? Like her, he was a prisoner of circumstance, even if he had opted into the circumstance. And he was her master. Her owner.

Sarea pushed those intrusive thoughts away.

No, she couldn't forgive him. Couldn't even say for sure he could be trusted to do the right thing. But she could work with him. Trust him far enough to get them a leash from Covenant. She could play the part, if he could. Sarea filled her lungs with a deep, steadying breath, and wiped her tears away.

"I can clean myself, you know," she said finally.

"Of course you can," Lucas said, "Forgive me."

He laid the wash cloth on the bathtub and went to stand when Sarea laid a hand on his thigh and said, "No, please stay. You're much gentler than I expected."

Lucas practically vibrated with pleasure. He picked up the washcloth and moved to where her head was. She leaned forward, and Lucas rubbed her back with wide swipes. Sarea sighed with pleasure.

"I'm sorry," Lucas finally said, "For before. In the training room."

For a few moments, Sarea said nothing, just kept her eyes on her thighs.

"You know more about me now than probably anyone alive," Sarea said quietly.

Lucas's hand stopped.

"I never meant to-" he started.

"Yes, you did," Sarea countered, "But thats all right. I understand."

Lucas took her hand in his.

"We never have to discuss it."

Sarea looked up at him with gratitude full on her face.

"Thank you, Lucas."

Lucas finished washing Sarea, then helped her wash and clean her hair. Despite the awkwardness, Sarea felt only care for him. When she was clean to her satisfaction, he even rose and got her a towel and robe, and, to his credit, looked away demurrely as she donned them. He showered after her, quick and to the point, then joined her in what was once his bedroom, but she realized now was hers as well.

When he sat on the bed, Sarea placed a hand on his arm and said, "I do have one question. Something I must know."

Lucas looked around the room, and Sarea fancied he was looking for an escape route. When he looked back at her, he nodded.

Sarea looked him full in the eyes and held his gaze.

"Why?"

Chapter 29: Causation

If she only knew how complicated a question that could be, or, honestly, how simple, Lucas wondered. Would she be able to forgive him if she knew that she was a calculated cost? A line item at the bottom of an infinite ledger, stained in blood in sorrow, that he kept as he made his way inexorably closer to his vengeance? Did he even need her forgiveness?

Probably not. He'd never ask her to forgive him either.

Lucas took a deep breath and said, "It's hard to explain."

"Try me," she said.

"I can't, not like this," he said.

"That's bullshit, Lucas, and you know it."

"No, it isn't. Let me," Lucas said, taking her arms in his hands and pulling her closer. She resisted, at first, but at a pleading look from him, she acquiesced.

"What's this?" she asked.

Not for the first, or the last time, Lucas asked her to trust him, followed by saying, "Just listen."

He had avoided looking at the wound in his mind, the connection now so open and raw that it almost hurt to prod. She was there, on the other side, battered and beaten and ready to submit. The path he had cut through her thoughts still lay open, like a game trail. It would be easy to walk it again, to press further, but that wasn't his goal. Not now. Now, she needed to understand, at least a little of it, to see that he might even be an ally to her.

Lucas rummaged through his memories and started placing them, one by one, into the bond, forcing them onto her, reliving moments better left forgotten. Sarea gasped as the first crashed onto her mind and transported them both to a different time and place.

It was a dark room, lit only be an old, shabby lamp on a rickety wooden end table. A man, beard overgrown and untrimmed, eyes red rimmed, towered over Sarea and Lucas, who both sat crouched on the ground, evidently playing some kind of kids game. A woman cried on the couch behind them.

The woman begged, "Andy, this is insane."

"Shut the fuck up, Helen," he spat, "I've had enough. We have others, and we will lose

everything

. Seb is ready, aren't you, bud?"

Lucas-Seb-nodded quietly. Sarea's eyes were on him.

"We've discussed this," the man continued, "And it'll only be for a year. Then he'll be back."

The lie in his voice was obvious then, and it was obvious now. Lucas' stomach turned. The world shifted and shimmered, and Lucas and Sarea left his parent's house.

A summer day blazed around them. The smell of fresh cut grass lingered on Lucas's tongue, a memory of possibility, of potential. He had no idea if Sarea saw what he was seeing, but it looked like she must be, for she was there in the yard with him. Was he as he knew her? Sculpted and unnatural? Or was he the boy that he was then. It didn't matter.

This wasn't a summer barbecue or happy time. It was a sale. A firesale, as servitude was becoming tricky, legally. Lucas took his place in line. He was a thin boy, but his frame held potential, he knew. By this point in his life, he'd bounced around a dozen homes after being sold. He didn't know it, then, but this was to be his final sale.

A well-manicured man walked the line, lifting each boy's chin to look him in the eyes. He checked their teeth, squeezed their muscles. It was so stereotypical, it seemed unreal. Finally, he arrived at Lucas, and something crossed his eyes. A smile crept onto his lips as he called out, "This one here. He'll do."

The world teetered again. Flashes of a cold, steel operating room flew by. Lucas felt his scream building, the terror from those awful days fresh in his mind. Then he was there, above him, scalpel in hand. Dominic Westerson. A grim snarl on his face as he went about his bloody work. Lucas and Sarea stayed in the room for brief moments each time, but it was long enough to see him change. He was becoming who he was now, or a version of that.

In the last vision, the last operation, Lucas watched Dominic inspect Lucas's body again. The rage then was nothing to what he felt on his second time. He wanted to reach out and tear the man limb from limb. His owner, the mustached man, smiled gleefully at the work. Lucas had been transformed, built to fulfill his owner's malicious purpose.

The world swirled like a watercolor, swirling down a drain.

Lucas closed his eyes and continued shoving his memories onto Sarea, who cried quietly, now. They visited the parlors of Lucas's first victims. Relived the nausea of Lucas's first kill, his hands slick with the blood of a man whose name he never knew. With each kill, Lucas changed, hardened. The feelings that saturated them became simpler to process, to shove aside, or to avoid altogether. Until they came to the final room.

It was a simple bedroom, decorated for a young man. Lucas's large frame sat on a twin bed, a knife in his left hand. He dug deeply into his arm, blood dripping in runnels down his bicep and forearm. A small device appeared as he pried: a limiter. Lucas dug and dug until, at last, it plopped onto the bed. Lucas dropped the knife and rose from the bed.

Sarea followed him out into the hallway, down into the living room and out into the backyard. It was a large house, a mansion of sorts, the kind you find in new subdivisions made cheaply for new money. The man who had bought Lucas was on the back porch, drinking a scotch. He looked up as Lucas came outside.

"What happened to your arm, Seb?" the man asked cautiously.

Lucas didn't answer. He strode up to the man, wrapped his hand around his neck, and wrenched. The man barely had time to scream before his body fell limp out of the chair. His glass tipped and rolled off the table, breaking on the porch. Lucas felt the towering anger and pitiful relief at the man's death.

His memory was interrupted by a scream.

"Stop, please," Sarea cried out, "Stop!"

They crashed back into reality together. Sweat poured on both their brows. Lucas's mouth was dry and cracking. Sarea crawled away from him to the head of the bed.

"My god, what did they do to you?" she asked quietly.

Lucas licked his lips, struggling for saliva, and replied hoarsely, "They took my life from me. Each of them in turn. And each of them have paid. Except for him."

"Who is he?" Sarea asked.

Lucas shook his head cautiously, urging the thought through the bond.

"I don't know," he lied clearly, for the listening devices, "But I'm still looking for him. I've given everything for that moment of vengeance."

Sarea's eyes became forlorn.

"Am I just the next step on that ladder?" she asked quietly.

Lucas rose from the bed and pressed his forehead into the wall of the bedroom, then turned back to her. "Yes? No? I'm this close," he said, his fingers pinching, "This close."

He got back onto the bed, on his hands and knees.

"Sarea," he continued, "I'm sorry. It can't make a difference, I know, but I am. And I am telling you now, with nothing but honesty, that you can trust me."

Sarea scoffed and wiped a tear away from her face with the palm of her hand.

"I know," Lucas said quietly.

"No, you don't," Sarea said venomously, "You can't. You fucking never can."

Lucas hung his head.

"But I trust you," Sarea said softly, "In spite of it all."

Lucas took Sarea's hand in his.

"Thank you," was all he could say.

The evening passed quietly after that. What more could be said between the two that could not be shared mentally. Occasionally, Lucas looked at the bond in his mind now and imagined the realities of what was to come. He feared what he'd have to do, when he was honest with himself. He wasn't religious, but he thanked God that night that the disiac they'd had that day wasn't permanent.

Chapter 30: Routine

Training the next morning was brutal, but less than the day before. The day after that, even easier. Each day brought new depravity. Sarea expected to try all the other colors of disiac. That wasn't the case, though. Instead, Terese continued pushing them into the dominant and submissive strains again, and again, and again. Each time, her boundaries were pushed further. No part of her was free of his touch, of his possession, though now Lucas had begun taking care not to ravage her mind.

Lucas had taken every one of her holes for his own now. Taken her on a public display through the halls of the training center. Drawn all across her, at her request, of his ownership. She hadn't yet taken a collar from him, something that, when Terese mentioned it, carried a special significance, but they had done everything short.

They became as two puzzle pieces, he fitting his dominance over and inside her with ease. For her part, Sarea had begun to appreciate pleasing Lucas when disiac was inside her. He was gracious in his care of her, and as they learned to navigate the changes in their bond over those few weeks, she saw more of who he was, especially in their quarters, at night.

Frankly, she liked what she saw.

It didn't help that their bond had stayed strong even when the dominant drugs were out of their system. Sarea, in spite of herself, and often to her chagrin, had found herself making space for Lucas in her life as a partner of sorts. Not sexually, though. They didn't have sex, not like those first few nights. Part of the training had been control, and both of them had managed to master their baser instincts when high.

No, what surprised Sarea most was the possessiveness she began to feel toward Lucas. She'd seen him express clumsy, masculine possessiveness over her repeatedly, even on that first arrival at Covenant, but this was new for her. On days when they had no training, Lucas would sometimes be called off to work with his gang or to counsel with Alexia, on what, Sarea feared to ask, but everytime he left, she felt a pang of jealousy that shocked her system cold. If this is how he had felt this whole time, she almost felt sorry for him.

One morning, she asked Terese about it. Terese's response had been simple, if damning.

"Like any relationship, it grows stronger the more you tend to it. We tend to yours five days a week. What else did you expect?" she'd said matter of factly.

Though they didn't make love, they did connect through the bond more and more often. Lucas had spent the weeks trying to gain any information on Westerson, especially when he went out to train with the gang. He found next to nothing, only that the man had been away these few weeks. To where, and why, remained a mystery. Still, Lucas recounted every detail to Sarea, taking her where he'd been, showing her how he'd felt.

For her part, Sarea resumed training her body. Without access to her mods, she needed all the strength she could muster. The gym in the Covenant headquarters was perhaps the only place where the corp's rigid caste system disappeared. At the end of the day, we're all the same under a barbell. The first few visits had drawn cautious, appraising looks from even her peers, but after a few weeks, she made a friend.

It was the woman from her first day, Mattie. Blue-streaked black hair tied in a ponytail, joggers and a halter over her wide hips and shapely breasts. She was an eyeful and knew it.

"Sarea, right?" Mattie had said, her chain catching the dim gym lights.

Sarea nodded, sweat glistening on her brow.

"So training is at least going

not bad

," Mattie said sarcastically, a smile playing at her lips.

For a moment, Sarea couldn't tell if this was a genuine approach, but as she looked up at Mattie, she realized it was. Sarea chuckled.

"It could be worse," she replied.

Mattie sat on a nearby bench, "It really, really could."

From there, it was easy. Mattie had been taken just like Sarea, though under less exciting circumstances. Mattie had earned a reputation in the underside as a psychic and mystic, and her fortunes always seemed to come true. Business boomed, or at least made her comfortable, until she told the wrong person the wrong fortune. One night, she was in her store reading a palm, the next there was a needle in her ass and a man in her pussy. Owned completely.