Hold Me Never (Holding Never) (7 page)

Before I can scrutinize the buttons further, the
elevator door opens and I am pulled out and frogmarched a little
distance to a steel door. The door swings open almost as soon as we
stand in front of it.

I am shoved into a brightly illuminated room. The
guards don't come in with me. The door closes silently and I whirl
round to find myself in a large, clinical room. I squint against the
harsh fluorescent lighting to see beeping machines, computers, tubes,
wires, needles, tables and trays filled with all sorts of strange
instruments in the room. In the middle of the room is a long steel
table, with metal cuffs dangling from the sides and ends. I freeze
as I notice two figures in the far corner of the room. A
bespectacled man in a long white coat turns around and regards me
coolly. His thin sandy hair forms a frizzy halo around his lined,
pinched face.

“
Name?” he asks, with a frown.

“
Huh?” is the only sound I manage to make.

“
Your name,” he repeats impatiently.

“
Z-Zoey...”

He glances at the computer screen by his side and nods.
“Zoey Whard. Yes. I'll examine you in a minute. Undress and
lie on that table.” His eyes flick to the steel table.

“
What?”

“
Take off your clothes. Lie down on that table,”
he says slowly, rolling his eyes. “Wait for your turn.”

“
My turn? For what?” My mouth falls open
when the second half of his instructions sink in.
Lie down on
that table
. The steel table with the metal cuffs hanging from
it. “No, no, no!”

When I keep backing away, shaking my head repeatedly, I
hear him blow out a sigh and step away from the corner. I gasp.

A naked man is standing in the corner, his back to me.
His closely-cropped hair is completely white and his skin is tanned.
His body is lean and long, and his back is covered with badly healed
scars. When he turns his head to stare at me over his shoulder, I
glimpse a scar zigzagging down the side of his face. His startling
green eyes meet mine, and his eyes seem to blaze with an icy, emerald
fire. I back away, averting my eyes from his raw, naked form. His
arms and thighs are corded with muscle, his body covered with scars
and barely healed wounds.

He turns brazenly to his side, not bothering to position
his hands in front of him to shield his manhood. I force myself to
meet his stare head on. I cannot show any weakness so early on. If
I am to stay alive, I cannot let a little nakedness unravel and
unhinge me so. I glare straight at him, keeping my eyes determinedly
on his face. He has turned around fully so that he is facing me
completely naked, his legs apart, his arms at his side. I try to
swallow the lump in my throat, but the lump remains stubbornly
lodged. But I seem to have won a small victory. He is the first to
blink, and I see his eyes register a trace of surprise.

Despite the color of his hair, I can see the youth in
his face. He looks young, maybe just three or four years older than
me, but his green eyes have a hardness to them. Is he a soldier? He
certainly has the build and scars of a fighter. Why is he here, like
me? Is he being punished?

His throat moves and his eyes darken as his eyes move
from my face to my breasts and down my body. Although I am still
fully clothed in my work overalls, he is looking at me as if I am
completely naked. It is as though he is picturing my naked body
under all my clothes. Gulping, I back away as his hips jerk
suddenly. The length between his legs has grown larger and seems to
be twitching and rising. Utterly shocked, I stifle a cry as I
stumble backwards. I have never laid eyes on a live, naked male body
before, and to see his manhood reacting to me is completely
unnerving. Feeling embarrassed, baffled, and more than a little
frightened, I crash backwards into a metal stable. The noisy
rattling of trays and bottles makes me whirl round in a hurry.

The man in the white coat comes running to me,
screeching in a high-pitched, indignant voice, “Don't touch
anything! For God's sake, just...move away from there!”

“
Oh, I...okay. I won't...ah, sorry.” I
wipe my palms down my overalls and step away awkwardly as he rushes
to steady all those wobbling bottles and needles.

Passing a hand over his forehead, he turns and regards
me with a look that is a toxic mixture of exasperation, fear and
scorn. The shock of almost having his precious bottles and things
smashed to smithereens seems to have rendered him speechless for a
bit. When he has finally calmed down enough to speak, he says with a
huff, “Now.”

I lift my eyes from the floor.

He takes a huge, steadying breath and continues, “I'm
Dr. Rolin. I don't know what you've been told but...”

“
I have not been told anything.”

He sucks in another long breath.

“
Right. But—that's not my job,” he
mumbles. “So. Just do as I tell you, and we'll have your
checked and certified in a jiffy. I want you to...”

“
Wait, Dr. Rolin.” I swallow hard. “W-what
do you have to tell me?”

“
I don't have to tell you anything,” he says
emphatically through his teeth.

“
Just, please...”

“
I don't have the time!” Dr. Rolin cries,
throwing up his hands. “I have to finish with him! And you!
The Emperor and Empress will have my head! Now, you need to undress,
and get on that table.” He holds up a hand to silence my
protests. “It's your choice. You can undress yourself, or I
can get the guards to undress you. So I advise you to just do it.
Just do it quickly and we can avoid all that pain and trouble. All
right? So get undressed and get yourself on the steel table, while I
finish up with him.”

My eyes follow the direction of the doctor's gloved
thumb.

The white-haired young man is still staring at me, but
now with a gleam in his icy green eyes.

Get undressed and get on the steel table—with his
eyes on me.

I start to shake my head as Dr. Rolin walks away. “No,
no, you...I c-can't...”

Dr. Rolin's shoe squeaks to a halt and he pinches his
brow between two fingers. “Shall I call in the guards?”
His voice is flat. He states it as a simple question, not a threat.

I gasp and shake my head furiously. “No!
Please...”

“
So, get to it,” he says tiredly. “I
don't want any trouble either.” As he moves away again, I
notice for the first time that he is limping. The doctor grunts as
he makes his way towards his naked male subject, moving quickly
despite his limp.

“
You, Owen! Lift your arms!” Dr. Rolin
points a shaky finger at the young man. “I need to take some
measurements.”

Owen's emerald eyes flash at the sharp command.

Very slowly and deliberately, he lifts his arms and
locks his palms behind his head.

His eyes continue staring at me, challenging me,
taunting me. I narrow my eyes at him, staring defiantly back at his
harsh, rugged features. His lips are drawn in a tight line and the
veins on his neck are throbbing with his heartbeat.

“
Zoey, have you finished undressing? I want you
on the table in half a minute. Or I'll buzz the guards in.”
The doctor tilts his head at me, peering at me over his thick
glasses. I spot a red scar over his left eye that I hadn't noticed
earlier. It seems the doctor is just as damaged as the hapless
bodies he is examining.

Owen is standing with his arms up, legs planted wide
apart. The doctor is busy measuring Owen's neck, chest, waist, hips,
legs, mumbling and scribbling as he works the tape measure. But it
is hard to ignore the bulge between his legs. That bulge is
certainly keeping the doctor busy. The doctor is taking his time to
measure the girth and length, measuring and re-measuring to make
sure.

But Owen pays the doctor no heed at all. He is staring
straight at me, the corner of his lips curling.

I raise a hand to the button on my overalls, and glance
up.

He doesn't even have the decency to look away.

Your choice
.

He is daring me, challenging me, waiting for me.

What are my choices?

Undress myself, or have the guards strip me forcibly.

Gritting my teeth, I turn my back to those unblinking
green eyes and force my trembling hands to work steadily at my
buttons and zips.

My heart is hammering wildly in my chest, but I refuse
to let my fear and mortification show. I shove my overalls and
panties down my legs and step out of them. Unbuttoning my torn
shirt, I shrug out of it and unclasp my thin, cotton bra. I let my
bra slide down my arms and drop at my feet.

I can hear my own rapid breathing as I wrap my arms
around myself and hunch.

“
Get on the table,” I hear Dr. Rolin call
out behind me.

I push myself up on the steel table and muffle a yelp at
the coldness of the metal against my bare thighs and buttocks. I sit
with my legs hanging over the side, and try to squeeze into a tight
ball. I can feel his eyes on my back but I drop my head between my
shoulders and don't look back.

I can bear the doctor's uneven footsteps, followed by
the clicking of a keyboard to my side. From the corner of my eye, I
see the doctor typing in front of a screen, muttering to himself as
he checks his notes.

“
All right. You're done.” Dr. Rolin looks
up momentarily from the keyboard. “Owen Vesparr, you've been
checked and certified. Get dressed and get out of here.”

I hear movement behind me, a rustling of cloth and
approaching footsteps. The breathing becomes heavier and louder, and
I know that Owen is standing just behind me, at the other side of the
steel table.

He walks past me, and I peer at him from between the
strands of hair falling over my face. Owen is dressed in nothing
more than a loin cloth. Or not even that. That piece of rag is so
thin and small it barely covers his behind. As he walks past me
towards the door, his eyes rake down my naked body, lingering at my
hands which are clamped over my bare breasts. He moves his gaze down
between my legs, staring at the mound between my thighs. His lips
part and his breathing becomes heavier. “Zoey,” he says
in a low, rough voice as he stands in front of me. I glare at him
from between the lines of my matted hair, scrutinizing him, judging
him, just like he is judging me, mocking me with his angry, devouring
eyes. My arms wrap tightly across my chest. I cross my legs,
squeezing my thighs together.

Please, just go away.

Can't you leave me with a shred of respect and
dignity?

I feel the tears sting my eyes as I see his large bare
feet move to stand in front of me.

I hear him swallow as he stretches out one hand towards
me. I recoil from him with a sharp cry.

“
Owen! What the hell do you think you're doing?
Get out of here! Guards!” Dr. Rolin comes fumbling towards
us.

At the doctor's shout, the steel door bursts open and
two guards march in. They are not the same two guards who escorted
me here. Snapping a metal collar and chain around Owen's neck, they
yank him out the door like an animal.

Just before the door closes, through my blurry vision, I
see him.

Jaxon!

Jaxon is standing just outside the door, staring
straight at me. The two guards salute Jaxon smartly before leading
Owen away.

Jaxon appears not to have noticed them at all. He
takes a small, stiff step forward, and I have to stop myself from
lurching from the table and running straight into his arms.

He looks stricken, tortured, furious.

I open my mouth just as Dr. Rolin goes scurrying to the
door.

“
Commander Ryleth,” the doctor pants. “How
can I help you? Is there something you want?”

Yes.

I want her.

The terrible pain in his eyes scream the words at me.

Jaxon remains standing at the door, but I can hear his
words clearly. “Treat her injuries. Make sure she's not in
pain,” he tells the doctor in a strained voice.

“
Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” Dr. Rolin
glances back at me with a confounded look. “Of course I'll
treat her. I'll examine her thoroughly and...”

“
No!”

The doctor staggers back at the Commander's angry shout.
Pushing his glasses nervously up his nose, Dr. Rolin stammers,
“B-but I have to certify if she is a virgin, so that...”

My eyes and mouth round as I jerk back. Certify that
I'm a virgin? Why in the world...?

“
What...” My voice comes out small and
hoarse. I swallow and open my mouth again.

“
She's not,” Jaxon declares.

I snap my eyes to Jaxon in shock. What did he say?

Dr. Rolin whirls round to gape at Jaxon. “What,
sir? Did you just say that she's not...a virgin?”

He nods. “She is not a virgin,” Jaxon grits
out.