Hold Me Never (Holding Never) by Natalie Kristen Page B

apologize when I finally hear him
mutter, “Something I won't risk happening again.”
    I stare up at the fluorescent lights and listen to the
endless humming of the electronic machines and equipment in the room.
I obey when Dr. Rolin asks me to turn on my side. I hiss when his
fingers press against the scrapes and bruises on my back and legs.
    “ Okay, you can sit up now.”
    He goes to a machine in a corner and fills a dish with a
thick, odorless light blue cream. When he proceeds to dab some of
the cream on my injuries, I stiffen and jerk away.
    “ It won't hurt. Just keep still a while more,”
Dr. Rolin says, as he finishes slathering the cream over my arms and
legs.
    He leaves me lying on the steel table and disappears
behind a large computer screen. I listen to the sound of his typing
for a while and yawn, feeling my entire body relax.
    That blue cream must be really good and really
expensive.
    I feel all the aches and pains leach from my body. I
run a hand down my arm. It feels smooth, renewed. Bewildered, I sit
up and look down my body. There is not a single bruise or mark left
on it.
    With a cough, Dr. Rolin emerges from behind his huge
computer. Wearily, he hands me two pieces of brown cloth. “Get
dressed. And get out.”
    I look down at the two pieces of cloth with which I am
supposed to “get dressed”.
    This must be a joke.
    But no one's laughing.
    I slide off the metal table and unfurl the pieces of
cloth. They look broader and longer than the cloth Owen had around
his hips. Lucky me.
    I wind the narrow piece of cloth round my chest,
covering my breasts. Barely. The other piece I tie quickly round my
hips. I look longingly at my pile of old clothes in the corner. Why
can't I wear them? They might be old, dirty and tattered, but at
least they're decent. But I know better than to ask.
    I clear my throat. “I...um, I'm 'dressed'.”
    Dr. Rolin looks up. He gives me a nod and rubs his
eyes under his glasses. “Go. The Commander is waiting. My
shift is over. For now,” he mutters under his breath and
presses a button beside his computer.
    I glance towards the door. Is Jaxon still out
there? It feels like I have been in this room for a few hours now.
Would he really still be waiting out there? What is he waiting for?
Is he waiting to deliver me to...the Emperor? Or to some other
torture? He's just carrying out his orders. Waiting for me is just
part of the job.
    Yet...
    The door swing opens and—Jaxon is right there.
    Standing in the exact same spot when the door closed, in
the exact same position. Like he never moved.

CHAPTER
FIVE

    Jaxon blinks at last. “Zoey,” he starts.
    I freeze and slowly back away. Somehow I could stare
him in the eye when I was stark naked, but now, in this flimsy,
obscene attire, I feel...shamed.
    Jaxon walks into the room, his eyes locked on my face.
He doesn't stare down my barely covered body. When I look at the
ground, he does the same and takes me gently by the arm.
    My legs move stiffly beside Jaxon, and I manage to walk
out of that clinical room without being dragged. As soon as the door
swings shut behind us, Jaxon unbuttons his black military jacket and
shrugs it off. He drapes it around my shoulders and pulls it snugly
around my body. “It'd keep you warm.” And covered .
    His hands are on my shoulders, holding me for a long
while.
    Slowly he walks me to the elevator. He starts to pull
me closer, then stops abruptly when the elevator door slides open.
    Jaxon glares at the waiting elevator with such hate and
bitterness in his eyes it is as if he is staring at his mortal enemy,
rather than just an empty lift. I watch his frown deepen as he drops
his head. Finally, he can waver no more and leads me into the lift
with great reluctance.
    Once we are in the tiny elevator, Jaxon slams his fist
into one of the buttons at the top. The elevator lurches to a halt
and I am thrown against his chest. I put out my hands to steady
myself and he grabs my wrists.
    “ Zoey...”