Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 16: Abduction

(Slight TW)

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Lauren
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Cold.

I was cold.

That thought spun through my mind as I blinkdd my eyes open.

At first, all I could see were several blurry dots of something dangling above my head, zipping around like little fireflies.

Releasing a shuddering groan, I scrubbed my hands down arms, shivering. My movements were sluggish, my head throbbing painfully. I blinked away the remnants of the drug-induced sleep, mind hazy as if I was waking after downing a bottle of cheap wine.

My fingers bruseh over a plush surface. Carefully, I raised my head to see that I was lying upon a soft mass of stark white furs draped over an enormous bed. Forcing myself to sit up onto my elbows, a jolt of agony sprang in my abdomen, tearing my eyes downward.

"Fucking fuck," I groaned.

Grazing the skin around my sides, it was nearly impossible to see clearly in this dimly lit room. Intuition told me that my ribs were worse off than they were before. The hunters obviously didn't know the meaning of the word 'gentle'.

Creepy psycho assassin aliens: Zero out of five stars on Yelp.

Wrapping one of the furs around my shoulders, promptly lost my breath as I glanced up.

Groups of spiraling lights danced overhead, moving in a synchronized symphony of floating stars in the most amazing and ethereal display I'd ever seen. What I thought were fireflies were actually multicolored balls of light, suspended in the air like celestial will-o'-wisps. The fuzzy spheres each measured roughly about the size of my palm, but it was difficult to tell if the wisps were alive or some kind alien flying technology. Whatever they were, the view they created was absolutely breathtaking.

Yet in the face of all this beauty, I had never been more alone in my entire life.

My legs shifted beneath unfamiliar fabric and I frowned as my attention turned towards my appearance. My hair hung across my forehead, slightly damp, with the cloying fragrance of roses clinging to my skin. To my horror, someone had taken the fucking audacity to bathe me and change my clothes. Pearly-white silky shirt with billowing sleeves adorned my chest, cinching at my wrists and high-waisted pants donned my legs, completing the set. My feet were left bare, my beat-up sneakers nowhere in sight.

Plucking at the material, I marveled at the texture. Breathable and smooth, these clothes might have been the nicest I'd ever worn. My skin crawled at the thought of someone touching me, bathing me, while I was unconsious. Whoever had committed the act had seen everything, even the white marks marring my upper thighs.

Chills raised the hairs along my nape, my fingers ghosting over the raised pale scars, instinctively covering the evidence of my self-destructive tendencies. Breathing became difficult at the thought of someone seeing the scars of I had tried so hard to hide.

Calm down. You're okay, Lauren, you're fine. Fine.
Fine.
I was fine.

After several minutes of repeating the mantra and carefully reconstructing my inner peace, I rose to observe the heavily furnished bedroom, taking the pelt with me.