Текст книги "Enslaved"

Chapter Three

“You, boy, up on your feet. Let me see what my credit has bought.”

Thrace rises on unsteady legs but he isn’t fast enough. A big hand snakes out and slaps him hard across the face. He reels backward, off balance because his arms are bound behind his back. Before he can fall, armed guards catch him and thrust him upright, their loud, trollish laughter ringing in his ears.

“Stand before the Master, boy!” one growls. “And enjoy it while you can. You’ll be kneeling before him soon enough.”

I am Havoc, Thrace reminds himself. I fear no male. I have honor and strength within. Such are the words that his Sire has taught him—the lessons he tried to instill every day. But he isn’t there to teach Thrace anymore. He’s gone…dead…. He was killed while trying to keep Thrace from being sold to the male who stands before him now, the one who calls himself Master.

Father, Thrace thinks, trying not to remember, trying not to see it all again. The shouting and the way his Sire had struggled when the male from Gemma won his auction—won Thrace as his slave.

“No—you shall not have him! Not my son!” he had shouted, kicking and struggling against the security Crangs as they attempted to lead him away. And then the man who had bought Thrace stepped forward with a weapon on his hand. He had pointed it at the center of his Sire’s broad chest and…and…

Don’t think of it! Thrace orders himself but he can’t help it. Can’t help seeing the bloody, gaping hole that opened in his Sire’s chest…the shocked look on his face as he stumbled to his knees…the callous way the man who is called Master threw a sack of clinking gold credit-coins at the slaver.

“For your trouble. I can’t stand mouthy slaves.”

The slavers had been more than happy with their compensation. Thrace’s Sire had been dragged away, leaving a bloody trail behind his limp corpse and Thrace, still shocked and horrified, had been led in the opposite direction. A day and a night in a dark cargo hold had followed and now he was standing before the male who had killed his Sire and bought his contract. The male who now owned him body and soul.

Father, he thinks again, his throat tight. What is to become of me?

He will not weep—it is weak and weakness is not the Havoc way. But he can’t help the way his eyes burn when he remembered his Sire, the only parent he had ever known.

“Promising…very promising,” the Master says, appraising Thrace with small, greedy eyes. “Though you haven’t got your full growth yet, have you my boy?”

Thrace looks down at himself. Havoc males don’t reach full physical maturity until their eighteenth cycle and he is barely sixteen cycles old. He is a good height but not nearly as tall as his Sire—not yet—and his arms and legs are slender and undeveloped. He is strong for his size but not strong enough to break the chains that hold him.

Not that strength and size did his Sire any good. He was killed despite his size…or maybe because of it. Doubtless the Master didn’t think he could handle a full grown Havoc although apparently an adolescent one isn’t beyond him. So he thinks.

“A beautiful boy, just the same,” the Master says, nodding. “Those eyes especially—lovely. And that tight little ass…” He has the guards turn Thrace in a circle so that he can be admired from all angles.

It makes Thrace feel sick to be so displayed and he doesn’t like the hungry look in those small, greedy eyes. It is as though he is a prime cut of meat the Master wants for his dinner. But he refuses to let his fear show. He glares back, never dropping his gaze when the Master looks at him, taking the measure of the male who killed his Sire.

The Master is a medium sized male with thinning gray hair and rings on every finger. His rich robes of purple halla-cloth cannot hide his paunch but they do proclaim him one of the royal elite of Gemma, not that Thrace cares about that. He only wants to kill the male who killed his Sire. But in order to do that, he must first get free.

“Very nice,” the Master says, nodding again. “And look at that lush mouth. I think we should look into training those sweet lips first. What do you say, eh boy?”

Thrace glares at him. “I say anything you put in my mouth, I’m going to bite off, Master,” he growls.

But his threat only makes the Master laugh.

“A feisty one! I like it. It will make breaking you that much more amusing.” He gestures to the guards. “Now leave us. I want some time alone with my new slave.”

“No!” Thrace tries to move away from the seeking fingers of his new master but he is trapped, unable to move, unable to get away. If only his arms were free…if only he could get his hands around the Master’s throat…

* * * * *

“Whoa—take it easy, big fella!” Trin leaned over the thrashing slave. He was moaning and growling, making deep, hoarse sounds that reminded her of vids she’d watched about the Earth predators called lions. The deep bass rumble coming from his vast chest was like the beginnings of a roar. It was unnerving but it also plainly signaled some kind of distress.

Trin wouldn’t have left one of her horses if it was in pain and she wouldn’t leave the Havoc either. She had bought him and she was responsible for him—it was that simple.

“Take it easy,” she murmured again, bending over him to press a wet towel to his sweating forehead.

Suddenly the Havoc’s eyes popped open, showing that extraordinary silver-blue color she’d found so arresting before.

“Hey,” Trin said, frowning. “You’re awa—”

Before she could get the word out, one muscular arm shot out and long fingers closed around her throat.

Trin gasped through her suddenly narrowed airway and beat against his broad chest.

“Stop—let go!” she choked out, barely able to get the breath to talk. “Let go!”

The slave’s eyes narrowed and he squeezed harder. He seemed to be mouthing something at her, some word she couldn’t understand. Was it…Master?

Trin tried to tell him to let her go again but she couldn’t get any air. Bright specks of light were beginning to dance before her eyes and she realized she was beginning to lose consciousness. She had to do something quickly or she wouldn’t have to worry about what happened in the Demon’s Eye—she’d be dead long before she got there.

Desperately, she fumbled at her belt but there was nothing there. Dimly she remembered handing the stunner to Sidna to prove she was protected. But had the medic ever given her weapon back? Trin didn’t think so. They’d had their fight and then Sidna had stalked off, presumably taking the stunner with her.

Please, Goddess—I don’t want to die! she thought, gazing down into the glaring silver-blue gaze of the huge Havoc. I don’t want to die…

* * * * *

The Master’s face was all he could see. The thinning gray hair, the greedy eyes, the fat jowls that quivered in anticipation when the Master came to get what he wanted…

But suddenly the hated face melted away. The thinning gray pate was replaced by a long, black main of silky hair. The narrow lips turned full and lush—the color of ripe berries. And the small, greedy eyes became large and dark and full of pain.

Thrace stared in confusion as the transformation took place. Who the hell was this female and why was he choking her?

Gods—he was choking her! Choking a female—hurting a female! Though the Havoc did not bond with females for life like their genetic cousins, the Kindred, they still had a strict code of honor when it came to the other sex. Foremost in that code was that a Havoc never, never physically injured a female.

Gods! He let her go, forcing his hand which had been clamped around her slim throat to relax and drop to his side. She fell back choking, her hand going to her throat as she tried to get enough air.

Thrace was horrified at what he’d done to her. Who was she, anyway? She looked like someone he knew or had met once in another life. She had creamy, light brown skin the likes of which he’d never seen before. It was beautiful…unusual…and vaguely familiar.

The female, he thought. The one who was talking with the damn slaver just before he started the pain collar. The one who…bought me? Did she buy me? Does she think she’s my new Mistress?

Suddenly an agonizing bolt of pain hit his ankle and traveled up his entire body. He felt every muscle locking up, going rigid with pain. And then…nothing.

* * * * *

“He’s out.” Sidna was breathing hard. “Are you all right, Trin?”

“I…think so.” Trin massaged her throat delicately. “He’s got a hell of a grip.”

Sidna sighed in relief. “Thank the Goddess he didn’t get both hands around your neck or I would have been too late.” She handed the stunner back to Trin. “Here. I was coming to bring this back to you when I saw what was happening. I don’t like to say I told you so but it’s clear he’s a vicious, savage beast.”

“He’s not.” Trin coughed, feeling the burn in her throat. “He let me go before you stunned him.”

“He what?” Sidna frowned at her.

“I think he was having some kind of a nightmare. He was thrashing and moaning and I was trying to calm him down. He grabbed me when he was still half asleep and he was trying to say something. I think…” She frowned. “I think it was ‘Master.’”

“Great.” Sidna put a hand on her hip. “So you’re saying he had a nightmare about his last master and his response was to try and choke him? What does that say about what kind of slave he is, Trin? Why do you think he was being sold in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” Trin said stubbornly. “But I still don’t think he meant to hurt me.”

“Well, whether he meant to or not, he nearly killed you. You’re going to have some serious bruises there.” Sidna examined her neck critically. “Will you please move him into the brig now?”

“How?” Trin demanded. “He’s out cold and he’s huge, as you pointed out. The whole crew together isn’t strong enough to move his mass from here to the brig.”

“Well, you have to at least restrain him,” Sidna said. “I mean it, Trin—it’s not safe to let him stay loose. The whole crew is in danger this way.”

“I guess you’re right,” Trin said reluctantly. “Do we still have the manacles we used on the Gox?”

“We do. Want me to bring them up?”

“I guess you’d better.” For some reason, Trin still felt reluctant to shackle the big Havoc. She honestly didn’t think his attack on her had been on purpose. But she could tell that Sidna wouldn’t feel safe otherwise and that probably went double for the rest of the crew.

“We’ll chain him to the cot for now,” the medic said. “But if he wakes up in a belligerent mood, I still think we should move him to the brig. We can hold a blaster on him and force him to move there under his own power if we have to.”

“All right.” Trin sighed. “Go get the manacles.”

After Sidna left, she stared down at the huge Havoc who was still out cold. Who had he been seeing when he tried to choke the life out of her? And what had happened to him to provoke such a murderous reaction?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

Chapter Four

Thrace woke for the second time, gasping like a male whose head has finally broken the surface of a pounding sea. In his case, a sea of nightmares. Memories he’d carefully suppressed for years were crowding into his mind, flowing in like cold, slimy sewage trying to drown him.

Gods, where am I? He looked around the small room he was in. It was dimly lit with bare metal walls. A cell of some kind? He tried to sit up but his body wouldn’t obey. Then he heard a metallic clinking and felt the manacles around his wrists. A surge of panic hit him and a low growl began to build in his chest.

The Master! He’s chained me up again! That means it’s only a matter of time before he comes in and—

“So you’re finally awake. Again.”

The unfamiliar voice made him jerk his head—the only part of him which was able to move freely. A familiar face came into view—a female with creamy, light brown skin and long black hair. She was lovely, with big, dark eyes and delicate features. Her full lips were the color of ripe berries.

And there were finger-shaped bruises in a ring around her slender neck.

Thrace had a vague memory of throttling her and felt a surge of shame. I did that to her. Me—I did it. But why?

He seemed to remember bad dreams, memories coming back of things he’d buried years before. The Master, he thought uneasily. I thought she was the Master…

But why was he thinking of that bastard now? What had unearthed the bad memories of the past?

As he stared at the female’s face, it all began coming back to him. The seedy portside bar on Padge where he and Solar had gone to drink while The Empress was repaired. Being captured by the slavers…sold on the auction block at the Flesh Bazaar…. Sold, apparently, to this female here. The one who had been eyeing him before that bastard of a slaver used the fucking pain collar on him.

He opened his mouth to talk—to demand that she untie him—but nothing came out but a low croak. More memories came back.

That fucking slaver—the paralytic he injected into my vocal chords… But shouldn’t it have worn off by now?

“Don’t try to talk,” the girl said. Her slim brown hand came towards his face and Thrace tried to jerk away, certain she was holding some kind of a weapon. Retribution, maybe, for the way he’d hurt her.

“Hold still, she admonished him. “You’re sweating like crazy—I’m trying to cool you down. Not that it ended very well the last time I tried it.” She touched her fingertips to her bruised throat and winced before reaching for him again.

Thrace watched as her hand descended to his face. He tried to raise his own hand to stop her but the manacles held him fast. He was tied down and helpless—there was nothing he could do.

He felt his breathing go short and sharp as his heart started to pound. There was nothing worse than this feeling of helplessness—the feeling of being tied down and unable to move while another acted upon you.

Ha—“acted upon you.” That’s a nice way to put it, growled a sarcastic voice in his head. Really fucking poetic considering—

The hand reached his face and something soft and cool and slightly damp caressed his forehead. Thrace jerked again—this time in surprise.

“See you big silly? It’s just a wet cloth. Just to make you feel better.” The girl spoke to him in a soft, coaxing voice, almost as though she was talking to a wounded animal or a sick child. “Not gonna hurt you, big fella,” she went on, stroking his hot cheeks with the cloth too. “Just trying to help you get well.”

Thrace stared at her uncertainly. He had nearly choked the life out of her—why was she touching him so gently? And why was she talking to him like he could barely understand him? He opened his mouth again.

“Un…tie,” he finally managed to croak.

“I can’t do that, sorry,” she said.

“Un…tie!” Thrace demanded more forcefully, though it hurt his throat.

“I can’t and it’s your own fault.” The girl frowned at him. “I can’t let you go, not after you did this.” She touched her bruised throat with her fingertips again. “Not that I think you did it on purpose,” she went on quickly before he could formulate a reply. “But I’m pretty much the only person who feels that way. The rest of the crew all think you’re some kind of crazed psychopathic monster and honestly, they didn’t have that high of an opinion of you even before you tried to strangle me. Because you’re male, I mean.” She sighed and shook her head. “If I let you up to roam around the ship I’d have a mutiny on my hands.”

Thrace looked at her appraisingly. So she was the captain of a ship—which was probably where he was being held. The question was, how the hell did he get loose and get out of here? Experimentally, he tried the manacles again but they were incredibly strong—some kind of alloy maybe. Thrace doubted he’d be able to break them.

“Those are plasti-dura-steel,” she said conversationally. “We used them last cycle when we transported a Gox. Have you seen them? They’re these huge, hairy beasts—about your size but they have two hundred times the strength of a normal male. So you might as well give up. You’re going to be manacled to your cot until I can be sure you’re not a risk to me or my crew.”

Thrace opened his mouth but his voice didn’t want to work at all now. Damn it, when would the paralytic wear off? Or were his problems vocalizing due to the merciless bout of agony he’d experienced when the slaver used the pain collar on him? Either way, when he tried to speak, all that came out was a croak.

“Look, you’ve been out for hours,” the girl said. “Are you thirsty?”

Thrace tried to say “yes” but again, only a dry croak came out this time.

“Don’t try to speak—your voice needs to recover like the rest of you,” the girl admonished. “Just nod your head if you want a drink.”

Stiffly, he nodded.

“Good. Here.” She was already holding a long silver metal container with a flexible straw stuck in it. She put it to his lips but Thrace turned his head away as more memories washed over him.

Drink it up, there’s a good slave, crooned the Master’s physician. It’s to relax you…it’ll get you ready, make things a little easier…

The girl frowned, clearly not understanding his silent refusal of the drink.

“I thought you said you were thirsty? Don’t worry—it’s just nutrient water. See?” She wrapped her lush, berry-colored lips around the clear straw and sucked, letting Thrace see her drink and swallow. “See?” she said again when she was finished.

He looked at her for a long moment. Surely she wouldn’t have taken a drink of the stuff herself if it was drugged or poisoned. It was just that his head was still fuzzy and the past kept getting tangled up with the present.

The girl looked at him and held the cup patiently, waiting for him to make up his mind. At last Thrace decided he had no choice but to trust her. Slowly, he inclined his head.

“Good,” she said briskly. “I’m glad you’re willing to at least try it.”

She placed the straw gently between his lips and held the cup for him while Thrace took an experimental sip.

The minute the cold, slightly sweet liquid hit his tongue, his thirst exploded. He drank quickly, almost gulping in his eagerness.

“Whoa…whoa—take it easy, big fella,” the girl cautioned. “You don’t want to make yourself sick. Take it slowly—there’s more where that came from.”

Thrace finished what was in the cup and lay back, letting his head rest on the pillow.

“Good. That’s good.” The girl seemed pleased.

Though she wasn’t really a girl, Thrace thought, studying her. He estimated her age to be somewhere in the mid to late twenties—younger than himself but old enough to know what she was doing. She had a calm self-confidence about her that was impressive.

She was studying him as well.

“I guess I’d better come up with a name for you.” She sounded thoughtful. “I can’t keep calling you big fella and big guy.”

He glared at her.

“Have…name,” he croaked, finally getting a few words out. “Thrace.”

“Thrace, huh? Okay.” She nodded. “I’m Trin—Captain Lonnara Trin of The Alacrity. I wasn’t sure if your people had names or not—some species don’t, you know.” She shrugged. “Anyway, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m from Zetta Prime so I don’t know much about males. Also, I’ve never owned a slave before so there’s going to be a pretty steep learning curve here.”

Thrace glared at her, his arms tensing in the manacles until his biceps bulged and the chains rattled menacingly.

“Not…” He choked, his voice failing him again. “Not…slave!” The harsh words were tearing his throat to ribbons but he’d be damned if he let her think she owned him. “Not…slave!”

She frowned. “So you weren’t raised in the Carnal Houses and trained to serve all your life?”

He shook his head violently.

“All right.” She nodded. “I believe that. But I don’t believe you’re not a slave. Why else did you call me ‘Master’ when you tried to choke me?”

Thrace subsided, looking away. Even if he could have talked, there was no way in all the Seven Hells that he would tell her about his past.

“Uh-huh.” Trin was looking at him thoughtfully. “Hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t suppose you care to tell me what happened to your last master, do you?”

He turned his head to look at her, letting all the hated and rage show in his eyes.

Trin flinched away from his look of hate.

“All right, so you don’t want to talk about it. Fine. We can discuss it later. But just so you know, I’m not unchaining you until I know what I’m dealing with.”

Thrace just kept glaring. Never—he was never going to speak aloud what had happened back so many cycles ago. To speak memories aloud was to give them new life…new power. And this slim girl with the creamy brown skin and big, dark eyes already had much too much power over him to start with.

He rattled his chains again menacingly. Not that she would have him in her power for long. Thrace was going to be certain of that.

* * * * *

Trin watched the emotions play over his strong features. Clearly he was angry that she’d dared to question him. Well, he could be angry all he wanted—she wasn’t letting him up until she had some answers.

He shifted on the cot, his big body straining against his bonds. His biceps bulged and his torso and hips moved as he shifted, causing his abdominals to ripple impressively.

Trin had never seen a being who was so muscular before—with each muscle group so well defined. It was…interesting. It almost made her want to touch him—to pet his smooth, tan skin which was several shades lighter than her own—but something held her back.

She’d been treating him like one of her horses—like a big, dumb animal that needed patience and understanding. But there was a fierce intelligent blazing in those extraordinary silvery-blue eyes. It made her question her people’s long held belief that males were little better than animals with limited understanding and brainpower.

Maybe it would be better just to leave him alone for a while. She was about to get up and go when she realized what all the shifting around was about. He wasn’t just trying to get free—he’d been out for hours and a few minutes ago he’d drunk a huge cup of liquid. He needed to relieve himself.

“You have to go, right?” she asked, looking at him directly. No point in beating around the bush.

He looked at her mistrustfully and then gave a short, curt nod.

Great! Just great. Her suspicion confirmed, she sighed internally. Not only had she bought a slave who was angry and hostile, she was now his sole caretaker since she and Sidna had had their falling out. And she was going to have to help him since she didn’t dare to let him help himself.

Well, luckily the med-bot was set up for this kind of thing. It had a long, sliver tube that connected to various parts of the anatomy for waste disposal. As long as all he had to do was urinate, it shouldn’t be too bad.