Taming the Queen of Beasts

AUTHOR NOTE: If you enjoy music while you're reading, try the song "Never Ending Nightmare" by Citizen Soldier while reading this chapter. It's what I listened to while writing!

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RIKA

She couldn't do this. She couldn't. These people were like her father—worse! He only threatened to kill people, these psychopaths actually did it!

Then, in trying to avoid Gar's gaze, her eyes fell on the two bodies on the floor, just feet from each other, and her stomach threatened to revolt.

How had she thought, just minutes before, that she wanted to be here? That these people made a safe place, a good place? How had she stood in defense of them?

She was surrounded by them here—all so tall and so strong. And Gar the biggest of all, except perhaps for his father.

A strange noise broke in her throat. She was so terrified she couldn't even cry. Her entire body trembled, her skin vibrating. But there was nowhere to go. As soon as she stepped outside there would be hundreds of them—all huge, all so strong that if they decided to hold her she couldn't move.

She couldn't do this! She wasn't safe!

Her head buzzed, her pulse thumped in her ears, and strangled cries broke in her throat with every breath.

Gar spoke to his mother, who was also looking at Rika. When Rika tried to push backwards, away from them again, her head skull bounced on the wall. But she barely noticed.

She was backed into a corner.

Gar stood directly in front of her, his eyes pained—and blood dripping off his hands.

Oh, God, help her!

She tried to talk, to warn Gar off because he looked like he was about to come closer, but her teeth were chattering. She couldn't get her tongue around a word.

Then suddenly the woman flowed forward, slowly. Gar's mother. She wasn't huge like the others. She was small and soft like Rika… but there was another huge male—Gar's father—right behind her, hovering over her, as if he wouldn't let her move without him nearby.

Gar looked just like him, this man who made himself his wife's shadow. Gar looked just like him. Gar was him.

Rika covered her head with her arms and sank to the floor, sobbing.

It was too much.

She couldn't do this.

She couldn't be here.

She was going to die.

"Rika?" That soft, warm voice said, barely loud enough to be heard over the throbbing in her ears. She shook her head and tightened her arms over her head.

"No, don't move, Gar. She's having a panic attack. She needs space." Elia's voice was so calm, so soft—and so firm. Rika imagined that no one would defy it—except perhaps that huge man that stood behind her. 

Huge men. There were huge men everywhere.

She was going to die.

"Rika, listen to my voice and just focus on that, okay? You don't have to speak. I'm going to touch your shoulder, but if you decide you don't like it, just lean away and I'll remove it, okay…?"

Rika gasped when a small hand brushed her shoulder. But it was warm, and female, and soft and didn't grip her, just rubbed slowly on her shoulder, then her back.

She trembled, but didn't move away.

She was going to die.

"It's a shock the first time you see how deadly they are," Elia said softly. "My first time was a similar circumstance, and in this room, actually," she said, sounding bemused. "I can understand why you feel frightened right now. We're not going to ask you to answer any more questions today, okay?"

"It's n-not… not t-the questions," Rika said through chattering teeth.

"Shhhhhh, you don't have to talk. I know. I know you were being honest. And I loved what you said. I felt the same way when I first arrived here."

"N-no. T-these p-people are c-crazy."

"I want to reassure you that they aren't, but I think now's not the time," Elia said, and Rika could hear the smile in her voice. "Right now, you just breathe as slowly and deeply as you can. We have as much time as you need. No one is going to move you, or ask you to move, until you're ready."

Rika blew out a long breath. But then someone did move and she jolted again.

"It's okay, Rika. You're safe here. I promise," Elia whispered, still rubbing her shoulders and back. "You've never been in safer hands."

Rika croaked laughed at that, her mind playing back the sickening snap of teeth on bone, of a neck being bent a way it was never intended.

Then she laughed again. And again.

She wanted to stop, but it kept gurgling out of her throat, high and strained. She lifted her head to try and get more air, her fingernails digging into the wood flooring. But she couldn't catch her breath, and the laughter kept coming.

At some point all she could do was close her eyes and let the tears come, because the laughter wouldn't stop until she did.

No one else made a sound, so it was just her eerie laughter and broken sobs, echoing around this strange building.

The only consolation, when finally, finally the laughter stopped and she could almost breathe, was that Gar and his father had sat on the floor—encouraged by Elia, she suspected. No one was looming over her anymore.

When she could finally breathe, she opened her eyes to find Gar, his eyes pinched with pain and worry. Elia sat next to her against the wall, their shoulders brushing. And Gar's father was further away in the room, obviously positioned to stop anyone else coming in.

Rika sucked in a breath. "Th-thank you," she whispered to Elia. She'd pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. "Thank you."

Elia shook her head. "This is a lot, for anyone," she said softly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong, Rika."

Then she looked at Gar. Her body was still shaking, but she could breathe now. She'd called him crazy. And thought that he was.

Really, she was the crazy one. But her mind shied away from the images of Gar killing that guy…

That guy that had been reaching for her, she reminded herself.

She made herself meet his eyes. Gar stared at her, his gaze pleading and afraid.

She swallowed. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Always, Rika," he rumbled back. "My strength is a tool to help you, I promise. I'd never use it against you."

She knew he was telling the truth. Or meant to be, anyway. She just wished she could feel like it was true.

She really did.

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