Desire's Slave Page 6

  She turned and faced Yellow-Teeth, the electro-stun held up in her hand.

  His eyes widened until the whites framed the irises. “No! I swear. I don’t know nothin’!” He tried to jerk away, but the ropes held him fast.

  Mary smirked, her lip curling as she pushed the electro-stun under his scrotum. “Really?”

  Darak’s large hand landed on her shoulder. “Perhaps he doesn’t understand the fundamentals of the electro-stun. He doesn’t look very bright.”

  Mary knew Darak wanted her to slow the pace of their interrogation to let the little worm have time to stew on his alternatives. “What’s not to understand? I can make him a eunuch in under a second.”

  The man’s dick twitched and his balls shriveled closer to his groin. “Please. Please, no.”

  Darak’s hand squeezed Mary’s shoulder. “Perhaps our friend here has never been on the receiving end of an electro-stun’s blast.” Darak looked down at the frightened man. “What is your name by the way?”

  Yellow-Teeth’s wide eyes rolled toward Darak. “Tom…Tom Plant.”

  “Nice to make your acquaintance Tom.”

  Tom answered him with a grimace that twisted his mouth and exposed his rotted teeth.

  “Tom, have you ever used an electro-stun?”

  “No. Too bloody expensive.”

  “Well, the unit Mary’s pressing into your balls has five levels of charge it can deliver,” Darak said, his voice as calm as an elementary schoolteacher’s describing the theory of relativity. “The charge is a combination of heat and electronic pulse. When on low and pressed to certain clusters of nerves beneath the skin, it can produce temporary paralysis. At level three its heat charge does more damage, burning the nerves and skin, while the shock can knock a man off his feet. Mary’s got it set to five at the moment.” Darak’s eyebrow arched and he smiled slowly.

  Tom’s eyes widened. He glanced down at Mary’s hand, which held the gun to his groin. “What…what does five do?”

  Mary glanced back at Darak’s face. She wanted to know too.

  “Where it’s aimed now? I’d say after you regain consciousness, you’ll discover the skin surrounding the entry wound will be melted. You’ll probably lose your balls altogether, but if you’re lucky, your penis will still be attached, although you’ll only be able to piss through it.”

  Mary turned back to Tom. “So are you ready to talk, now?”

  “Please don’t take me balls!” Tom whimpered.

  “I think our friend Tom here,” Darak pointed to the now trembling man, “might be more willing to tell us what we know if you put the gun away, Mary.”

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll talk,” Tom said quickly.

  Mary scowled and pulled the gun from beneath Tom’s balls. She’d enjoyed playing good-bad interrogator with Darak. “If you lie to me I’ll be able to tell.”

  “I won’t. I won’t. I promise you.”

  “So tell us what you know about the blonde woman,” Darak demanded.

  “She came to the Pirate’s Cove a couple of nights ago. She was lookin’ for passage to New Australia, but Chavez got to her first.”

  “Who’s this Chavez?” Mary inquired quickly.

  “Ex-Dominion soldier. A mean bastard—he’s why I wouldn’t tell you nothin’ afore. He’s a trader now.”

  “So what happened to her then?” Darak asked.

  “They talked a bit. Not too friendly, you understand, and then they left.”

  “Together?” Mary asked.

  “Yes. I swear.”

  “Is that all you know?”

  Tom’s gaze darted away for second. “Yeah.”

  He wasn’t telling them everything he knew.

  Mary sucked in an angry breath and pressed the electro-stun to his forehead. “I wonder what kind of damage the gun would do here.”

  “No. No. I remember now. I got up to leave right after them, and just so happened to be goin’ the same way. I seen them walkin’ north, along the docks. Toward your ship. Then all of a sudden Chavez and another guy attacked her. They stuffed her into a hovercar.”

  “Tom, you seem an intelligent fellow,” Darak said. “Where do you think they might have taken her?”

  “Chavez deals with the auction houses. Word on the street says he hit the big time with the blonde woman. She’s going to the Hazar’s auction. You know, her bein’ a prime piece and all.”

  Mary growled and started toward Tom, intent on teaching him manners.

  Darak’s hard arm circled her waist, halting her. “Wait, love. Tom here has given us the information we needed. Save your anger for Chavez.”

  Mary relaxed against his arm. “What next?”

  “We hire a skycraft to take us wherever this auction is.”

  “You’ll not get within a league of his palace compound,” Tom said.

  Darak turned toward Tom. “And why is that?”

  “The Hazar’s security fence can’t be breached. Not from the ground or air.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Every thief on Arturia has dreamed of gettin’ within those walls. Not a one has lived to tell the tale.”

  “Tom, you’ve been a very helpful fellow,” Darak said.

  “Will you release me now?” Tom followed his words with a toadying little smile.

  “Mary?” Darak’s blue eyes twinkled beneath arched brows.

  Mary’s eyes narrowed—she couldn’t forgive Tom for not assisting her friend. “I think Tom needs an airing.”

  “Well, Tom, there you have it. Mary’s letting you keep all your parts. I’d say you were one lucky fellow.”

  “But, you can’t leave me like this,” Tom whined, struggling again.

  “We’ll send a message round to the local constabulary before we leave Aghora.” Darak held out his hand to Mary.

  She slapped the electro-stun against his palm and then turned on her heels and stomped toward the street.

  Darak’s steps sounded behind her. Once she turned the corner, his hand circled her waist. “I didn’t know I’d chosen such a bloodthirsty mate.”

  Mary turned and shoved him against the wall. “Being bad makes me horny.” She loved the fact that they shared the same height. She leaned forward, her mouth slamming onto his, and then drew his lower lip between hers.

  Darak’s groan earned him a lap of her tongue—skimming inside his mouth, and then withdrawing. His hands closed over her hips and pulled her close, until her breasts smashed against his chest and his burgeoning erection was burrowed in the cleft between her thighs.

  Mary smiled against his lips, and then raised her hand—the one that had held Tom Plant’s balls—toward Darak’s brown mane of hair.

  Darak’s lips curved beneath hers and one of his hands manacled her wrist. “Not until you’ve disinfected that hand, my darling.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so particular.”

  Darak laughed. “I still can’t believe you grabbed that rodent’s balls.”

  “Lover, why waste time? I believe in going straight for a man’s priorities.”

  Darak bussed her lips, and then sighed. “Wish we had time for you to go for mine, but we’re quickly running out of that commodity.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “The shuttle will be back in two days, ready to take the last of the women to our new home. If we don’t find her quickly, we may have to leave her behind.”

  Mary wanted to protest, but he was right. The longer they stayed on Arturia, the more chance the Dominion fleet would hear of their presence. At most they had a couple days to rescue Calandra.

  *

  Without the reclamation suit beneath her robe, Calandra appeared more comfortable the second day of their journey to the city of Raban and the Hazar’s palace. But as the Arturian sun rose higher in the sky, Drago could see Calandra’s despair grow in the deepening shadows beneath her eyes.

  Before they’d fallen asleep the previous night, Drago had pulled her into his arms, savoring the plump curves pressing against
him. With her cheek soft against his chest and his hand sifting though her hair, she’d nearly been lulled to sleep. He’d tried once more to describe the life that awaited her within the pampered walls of the ha’arem.

  She’d gasped and then turned her back to him. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself that you’re doing the right thing?” Her voice cracked from her tears.

  He couldn’t answer her for a long time. Her back remained rigid, and he knew she didn’t sleep. How could he make her see he was only trying to give her what she deserved—a better life? “There are only two kinds of women I’ve known in my life. Fellow soldiers and women who service men. The soldiers I’ve fucked were looking for physical release, just as I was. For us, it was a physical training, nothing more.”

  Calandra’s head shifted on her pillow. She was listening.

  “The other kind sought my protection, or sought what my status as a soldier could bring them. I understood this transaction. I had use of their bodies and provided for them.”

  Calandra turned to face him. Her face was beautiful in the silver moonlight, even though her eyes glistened with newly shed tears. “Can’t I stay with you?”

  Drago’s throat closed against a painful burning. He shook his head sadly.

  “What is it with you? Why do you think any woman is going to choose an aimless existence with lots of things over you?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  Calandra shook her head. “Some girl did this to you,” she said with a slight quaver in her voice. “And you’re going to make me pay for it.”

  “I’m not making you pay for anything. Don’t you get it? This isn’t a punishment? You will be taken care of. I want a better life for you Calandra.”

  “Who made you think that the best you could give a woman was ‘better circumstances’?”

  Drago started to shake his head in denial, but the entreaty in her clear blues eyes convinced him she deserved the truth. “Before my arrest, I had woman I kept. She was lovely—dark-haired with creamy skin. She said she loved me. And I thought once I was on my feet I would make her my wife.” He shrugged, feeling foolish for his naiveté.

  “After I was released here, she followed. I hadn’t any prospects—only my soldier’s training. I was hired by the auction house in Aghora as a security officer. I was barely making ends meet. And we were fighting constantly. One day, she came to the auction house to speak to me. The man who owned it approached her and offered to place her in the sale. She accepted and didn’t tell me.

  “When I discovered where she’d been placed, I snuck into her ha’arem and offered to help her escape. She laughed at me. Said she had everything she’d ever wanted. Why would she want me?”

  “She never loved you, Drago.”

  “I know. But then, what is love? I’ve never experienced it, except through her words. And it wasn’t strong enough to survive through the tough times.”

  “I’m strong enough,” Calandra said, reaching to cup his face.

  “Well I’m not,” he said flatly, pushing her hand away.

  “How can you sell me?” she asked, tears in her eyes.

  Like a coward, he’d closed his eyes against her accusing look. He didn’t open them again until her breath had slowed and deepened in sleep. Why hadn’t he said yes, she could stay with him? Why didn’t he believe he could make their relationship work?

  He’d had misgivings about selling her since the first time he’d pressed himself deep inside her. Nothing about her reactions rang true with his preconceptions about how she should have behaved. Instead of cowering, she’d been bold. Rather than be seduced, she’d seduced him—boldly, lushly, unforgettably. When she’d been unable to resist his caresses during his inspection, she hadn’t simply submitted to her desires.

  Instead, Calandra had pushed him into the chair and mounted him. She’d taken him and continued to do so, until he no longer believed she would be happy in the confines of a restrictive Arturian household. She was far too uninhibited and highly sexed to wait on any man’s whim.

  She wouldn’t be influenced by the riches showered on her. She wasn’t like the powerful women who led their masters subtly toward their goals. Calandra didn’t have a subtle bone in her body. Not that she wasn’t smart enough to learn the games of the ha’arem. But Drago knew her spirit wouldn’t survive.

  Her wild, mercurial nature would be muted. He couldn’t bear the thought of her spirit diminished or enslaved.

  But what could he do now? The contract was agreed. If he changed his mind, the doors to untold riches would forever be closed. Besides, would Calandra really be any better off in New Australia? She’d likely end up as a pleasure-giver at some rough-neck camp. And he couldn’t keep her with him. Without a stake, he had nothing to offer, not wealth—not even a heart.

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  The next night, Drago continued to fight his doubts. He had a contract, albeit a verbal one, to deliver Calandra to the auction house. If he failed, he’d never have the opportunity to present another offering again.

  Would that be so bad? For the first time he wondered if he needed a new career. This one was beginning to make his head ache.

  Dawn was breaking over the horizon, coloring the dunes in shades of rose and pink. The colors would forever remind him of Calandra’s pink mouth and rosy cunt. Damn, the woman filled his thoughts!

  The object of his lust rode just ahead of him, her shoulders slumped with fatigue and a good measure of dejection, he was sure. And he was the cause. Just another reminder why he should never let any woman depend on him for her happiness.

  “Drago!” Kaspar’s excited shout came from beyond the next rise.

  Drago spurred his llamyx, passing Calandra and Gilbert. When he drew up alongside Kaspar, he followed the younger man’s gaze. A long caravan wound slowly around the desert trail that led from Raban, and they’d already spotted Drago and Kaspar.

  “It’s my uncle’s caravan,” Kaspar said, his voice holding suspicion. “He did not stay for the sale and festivities. He will try to take your woman.”

  Drago had met the wily Kabal on several occasions. He agreed this meeting was not a coincidence. “We’ll keep her close. He won’t do anything in the open. Just don’t drink first from his cups.”

  Calandra caught up to him, and stared at the approaching men. “Trouble?”

  “Maybe. Stick with me, no matter what.”

  Her chin rose. “Why? Aren’t they just men? I don’t think things could get any worse for me, do you?”

  Drago cursed. “Fine. Kabal’s fifty years old and he’ll want to test the goods.”

  Her back stiffened, but her expression remained stubborn. “I assume you mean me. How’s that any different from what you’ve been doing?”

  Because I care about your pleasure! He swallowed his anger and turned his attention back to two riders who broke from the caravan.

  Drago kneed his mount and rode out to greet them.

  Kabal pulled back on his reins and grinned widely. “Hello, Drago Chavez!”

  “Hello, Kabal.”

  “Aren’t you far from Aghora? You will miss the city auction.”

  Knowing full well Kabal was aware of his special offering, Drago bit back an impatient retort and instead smiled back. “I have business with Mogi, the Hazar’s auctioneer.”

  “Your offering must indeed be rare. I congratulate you.”

  “Thank you. We have a long journey, as do you. I’ll not impose,” Drago said, knowing it wasn’t likely his little group would get away quite so easily.

  Kabal’s oily smile stretched wider. “But you must join me for the morning meal. I insist. Soon enough the sun will beat down on our heads and we will sleep.”

  Already there were signs from his caravan that they were setting up camp for the day. A large white bundle was being rolled onto the sand—a tent. Drago couldn’t refuse his invitation now. Kabal was too well entrenched with the Hazar’s business interests to risk o
ffending him.

  From behind him, he heard the others approach.

  Kabal’s avid gaze sharpened. He’d found Calandra.

  *

  Calandra followed the woman wearing a dark kahfet into the white, billowing tent. As she stepped through the threshold, her eyes didn’t immediately adjust to the shadows. Despite the oppressive heat within the tent, the dimness within made the air seem cooler.

  The woman grasped her arm and pulled her toward the back of the long tent. Calandra’s footsteps were muffled by the carpets beneath her feet.

  She’d watched earlier while rolls and rolls of the brightly hued carpets were carried inside by Kabal’s servants. Obviously, his comfort was paramount.

  Slowly, her sight adjusted and she saw Kabal and Drago seated on the floor, bolster cushions at their backs, with trays of food before them. Small black phospher-pots were set around the room bathing the men’s skin in a gentle golden glow.

  Both men had removed their kahfets and their shirts and their chests glistened. Women hovered nearby to fill their cups and offer them tidbits from the trays.

  Calandra’s blood boiled. She’d been “refreshed” with a visit to the necessary, and offered a shower within a blind constructed for the comfort and privacy of the other women accompanying Kabal. Now she knew why. The women were all naked.

  No way was she going to strip to serve the two men reclining like potentates against their pillows.

  “Come join us, Calandra Jones,” Kabal beckoned her with a wave of his hand. He patted the space beside him. Although past his prime, Kabal wasn’t unhandsome. The distinguished gray that silvered his temples and the dark moustache above his lip, complimented the rakish twinkle of his brown eyes. His body was trim and his legs were long. Without his clothing, she imagined he’d still be pleasing to a feminine eye.

  Instead of taking his suggestion, she skirted the trays and dropped down beside Drago, leveling a killing glare at him.

  His glance held a warning, but Calandra decided to ignore him and reached for slice of fruit on the tray nearest her.

  “Uh uh!” Kabal tsked. “You will eat what your master provides you.”

  Calandra dropped the fruit and folded her hands in her lap. She’d rather starve than ask Drago to feed her.