The Human Pet: A Sci-Fi Romance

Part 26

Kayla

Tarak drags me out of the warm bed in the morning. Then he takes me to his office, places a pillow underneath his desk, and points to it.

I glare at him: seriously?

I disdain the implication of this. I have important work to do, like solving the mystery of who might be behind the human lobotomies. How could I possibly get any work done sitting underneath his desk? When another scourge enters Tarak's office, he drops a bowl next to the pillow and pushes me underneath the desk. I try to scramble out of there, but Tarak knows me, immediately grabbing a handful of my hair and holding me until I stay still.

The place underneath the desk is like an animal pen, yet somehow, I acclimate. Spending time with my owner like this warms me in ways I did not expect. The deep rumble of his voice, his calming physical touches throughout the day, and even the way he sometimes sneaks me into his lap and gazes at me with darkened eyes make me feel cherished and loved.

The novelty of a new place and my many naps helps the hours fly by, and before I know it, Tarak re-attaches my ball gag.

There's a playful glint in his eye when he says, "Kepr?"

I'm beyond excited at the possibility of stretching my legs after being under the desk for most of the day, so as soon as the door opens, I dash down the hallway.

Tarak's voice rumbles. Does he find this funny? Even though I try to pull him toward the direction of the park (I know the way), he pulls my leash in a new direction. We walk down unfamiliar corridors. Wherever we are going, it is not the park or his apartment.

The numbers on the metal doors are different, too, and when I notice a few of them—496, 497, 498, 499—I gasp. We're so close to one of the rooms on my list (room 510). Now I am the one that walks slower while my owner tries to pull me along with him.

There is a hallway that branches to the left and right in front of us, and my owner selects the one that veers to the left. I study the numbers on the doors of this new corridor: 600, 601, 602. Maybe I am mistaken? We pass another few doors and it's confirmed. This path is going in the opposite direction from where I need to go.

We are so close. I cannot let this opportunity go. I firmly plant my feet on the floor and refuse to budge.

My owner tugs on the leash. "Kata."

No. I pull on my leash, refusing to move.

"Kata," Tarak says in a low growl.

Nope. I lean my body toward the direction I need to go, hoping that he understands my need.

We both glare at each other. So, we are at a standoff, with both of us wanting to go in a different direction.

Tarak reaches to pick me up, and I dodge him, taking a few steps back.

His eyes narrow. Surely by now, Tarak knows I am deliberately refusing his commands. I also know that it is only a matter of time until he gets his way since he is larger and stronger.

Unless I make the first move? There's a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach because what I am contemplating could end badly.

Potential benefits: I could find the room and since even scourge laws would recognize how wrong lobotomies are, I could potentially put a stop to them.

Potential risks: I may never be allowed to walk in hallways on a leash if I do what I am planning. That means I may never see Lugh again, and my owner also might punish me.

I gulp. Even if I am never let out of Tarak's room again, helping my fellow humans will be worth it.

So, when Tarak tugs on the leash, I reach for where the leash attaches to my collar, unclipping it.

Tarak's eyes get huge and his tail thumps.

I don't even wait for him to react, retracing our steps and taking the path to the right. Like a shining beacon, I see room number, 510, at the end of the hallway, and I run toward it.

Tarak roars. He's running straight at me. He is beautiful when he is angry: his strong muscular body and his fierce expression.

Most would curl and cringe in a ball at the sight of someone so massive and powerful hurtling toward them, except something flutters inside my belly. I can imagine those powerful arms of his wrapping around my wrists and holding me down as if I am a possession owned by him, bending me to his will and–

Focus, Kayla, focus.

I take a deep breath, certain of my future: I will be locked in Tarak's apartment forever and will never see a pet park again.

His outstretched hand is only a few feet away.

I brace myself because this might hurt.

Alright, time to work on this door. I hold my fist out, turn my fist clockwise, and the door whooshes open.

He's flailing and he falls forward, pushing me into the room.

I'm flying, falling several feet forward, but my eyes take in the shelves stacked with bandages. There is a strong scent of alcohol and antiseptics in the air.

I get to my feet. Machinery in the room beeps and two masked scourges, their hands covered in gloves, look at me.

"Thoth!" roars my master from behind me.

I stumble forward, barely avoiding a collision with the table between the scourges. On the table, it looks like a sheet or... I gulp when I realize that there is probably a body underneath the sheet. Someone is being operated on right now.

The sheet rustles and whoever is on the table sits up.

My heart pounds in my chest when a scourge gazes back at me from the surgical table.

What? This isn't possible. How had I been so wrong?!