And all this was grand indeed, now that Eugenia was standing in the midst of it. A palace hidden at the center of the ship. The entirety carved into homes for families bursting with wide-eyed and happy children. Where women chatted, laughed, and breastfed their babies. Where orphans found mothers eager to hold them.
Where those who refused to submit to their duty had been moved somewhere on ship no soul would confess to the captain’s wife.
Chilling, grotesque, and something Joan seemed all the happier for when she mentioned so bleak a topic in passing during the tour.
Yet, Brooke was there, wandering through the vegetation—slowly fighting her way out of shock. Surrounded by sisters who understood, who would be there for her. Who didn’t mind when she wet herself or when she tore at her hair or clothes.
Who knew what to say, and the exact tone to say it in.
Because Eugenia was the outsider on Level 9.
The women watching made that clear. This was their home, and they would trample her into dust if she tried to take it from them.
And that was no light threat. One of those mothers alone was far more intimidating than any of the men Eugenia had encountered on the ship. All of them with families to protect, all of them willing to take up a weapon to keep what they had worked hard to build.
And the men had no idea.
Though as Eugenia was introduced to them one by one, she wondered if Aaron suspected. If that was the real reason he had not put her here after he pulled her from the lake.
Because she would not have needed him to bicker with. Not when there were sharp minds aplenty on Level 9. Because she might have found comfort in the arms of other women and submitted so she too could have a baby at her breast and community to enjoy.
Not that the captain had not been trying in earnest to see that potential outcome take place.
How one woman was supposed to take care of that oversized penis for the rest of her life, Eugenia didn’t know.
Next thing she knew, she’d be doing morning yoga with the rest of the women. Barf.
“Did you hear what I said about drainage?”
Not really. “Yes, yes. Plant matter builds up and has to be routinely removed or the whole drainage system backs up.”
Nodding approval, Joan continued her tour. And Eugenia followed.
Three hours later, they were called to join a woman loudly groaning through the pains of labor. One who had already delivered three babies—hyper fertile, as it were.
And happy.
Gretchen was happy to see a squalling infant placed on her breast, to hold her fourth child as it made its first cries.
Even though no father was there, and even though not one of her children resembled the next.
Looking down at the amniotic fluid, the vernix, the blood on her ungloved hands, having been the first to catch a newborn human, Eugenia felt her eyes burn.
And then she looked to Joan. Joan, who had walked her through each step in the surprisingly quick final moments of labor. And she meant every word. “Thank you.”
The older woman smiled, saying, “You’re not done yet. Gretchen still needs to deliver the placenta.”
Which was a fascinating organ to inspect in real life. Until it was taken away to be steamed and dehydrated. To be eaten by the mother with her daily meals. Full of hormones that would help her body recover from the strain.
Which was sound science, Eugenia supposed.
Chapter Twenty
“Are you hungry? Dinner is waiting.”
Hungry? Always. Exhilarated? Absolutely.
No guard or watchful eye had escorted her from Level 9 to the captain’s rooms. Not anymore.
Sitting was… a challenge, now that a tiny foot had taken residence against her right ribs. Getting up, belly larger by the day, was almost impossible. Not that it stopped her from plopping down on the couch with a tired sigh.
Head lolling against the cushion, Eugenia shut her eyes. “I’m just going to take a nap real quick.”
Lips came to her forehead. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
“Shut up, Aaron.” She felt like a whale. A striped whale who clearly had not received the no-stretch-mark gene.
He put a plate on her belly. One that balanced just fine. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Roast pumpkin with onions and fish. Everything she craved since waking that morning and telling him how badly she needed it. Gloriously delicious as she scarfed it down like an animal. And then she did feel better. Like a new woman even. One even willing to talk to the handsome man taking off her shoe.
“I set a broken leg today. Compound fracture. A real mess.” Smiling, she met his eyes. “You should have seen it.”
Laughing, he removed her other shoe. “I’ll let the men know you’re looking forward to their suffering.”
“Ugh, I need to pee again.” Said with such desolation for her imminent loss of comfort on the couch.
“Up you go.” Plate set aside, he heaved his extremely pregnant wife to standing.
And stole a kiss before she might escape. One that rode her moods and altered their course until she was relaxed against him with a small smile on her mouth.
Lashes parting, she found his gaze as warm as it always was, and then her smile became a frown. “You know, they hate that I’m forced to leave Level 9 and come here every night. Those women, they don’t know what you’re really like. They only know what you did to them.”
Too many of the women on Level 9 had been fucked too hard by an indifferent, evil man. Some of them had once thought themselves in love, until they realized what he’d put them through on Level 15. Others had never seen him save the first time they stepped onto the boat. How he’d coldly outlined what their lives would be before throwing them into isolation for a month to adjust.
Not that all those new women made it to Level 9 anymore. Those who truly refused went… somewhere else, hidden from Eugenia to be bred.
Babies were delivered upstairs in need of a breast, fresh from the womb and squalling.
Eugenia had almost killed him the first time, slicing Captain so badly with his dinner knife Dr. Herbert had been called to stitch him when she refused.
On his knees, weeping when she swore she’d never look at him again, he pleaded that the mother promised to kill the baby. Swearing that she had murdered the one before—that the little boy wasn’t safe with her. That all the complicated cases were well fed and as clean as the women would allow themselves to be. That he didn’t have a choice.
Eugenia still didn’t speak to him for a week.
Staying with Brooke, who was far more pregnant and far more coherent when Eugenia came sobbing to her door.
Who told her to pull her head out of her ass.
Because she had seen the captain and his favorite captive. Because, out of all the women on Level 9, Brooke knew how much they loved one another and never told a soul. “The world out there is fire and pain. Some bring the pain back here where it’s safe. The captain can’t let it spread.”
Eugenia, in the most fucked-up way, had the dream all of them had yearned for.
Yet her voice still had to be heard. “He has women on the boat he forces to reproduce… and then he takes away their children.”
Scar tissue distorting her smile, Brooke offered a lopsided and honest grin. “And good for those women for refusing. And good for him for saving a life.”