“My son will never so much as look at you again, not after I’m through with you.”
Allura winced, looking away as her body betrayed her bravery and began to tremble. Zarkon growled and forced her chin up with a finger. He scrutinized her a second longer before pushing her head to the wall. Allura screamed.
He was disrobing her, slowly and without zeal as though he had done this a million times before. It made Allura’s skin crawl feeling him press so close, and she swallowed a lump fear rising in her throat. He was nothing like Lotor. He was massive, tall and terribly heavy. His skin was cold. His hands relentless. She doubted that a good slap, something that would usually subdue Prince Lotor, would have the same affect on Zarkon.
The helmet first. Allura shivered when he insisted on running fingers through her hair, inhaling a scent he said made him weak for human women. He smiled at her, his lips pulling back slightly to reveal the tips of his fangs. He said he would do anything to a woman.
Allura went cold.
She heard the zipper of her flight uniform rattle against Zarkon’s claws, echoing steadily in the dismal room where she was chained. It was a horrible sound. Hollow. It made her stomach drop and her head spin dizzily, as she realized Zarkon was staring at her with malice shining in his eyes.
“Yes, he won’t chase after you anymore.”
Allura howled in pain. Zarkon set a claw to her chest, dragging it across her skin lengthwise, then dragged it back on the diagonal. He just laughed at her pain, hooking the curved tip of his claw back across her skin.
“Stop,” Allura squeaked. Her vision was beginning to dull around the edges and Zarkon’s smile began to fade.
“You’d best keep still,” he said, setting his claws to her once again. “Only five more letters to go.”