by Isoellen
Her mouth dry, Sasha croaked out her answer. "Yes."
"Say thank you, sir."
His goading made her fear instantly evaporate. She had to try twice before she could force herself to say the words in a way that wouldn’t earn her more lashes. "Thank you, sir."
"Excellent. I'm giving you ten." He positioned himself to the side of the table. His hair was messy, hanging in his eyes, cheeks flagged with red, his face set. He smelled of anger, lust, and regret.
The long whip, a real bullwhip, was in his hand. The endless length uncoiled like an evil snake, leather wrapped handle thick in his fist like a club.
"You will count and keep your eyes on me, girl. I will give you an extra lashing if you close them or turn away. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
His lips thinned in ominous warning.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Sasha rushed to add.
Taking the punishment in Patrick’s place was a good cause. It was worth it. She was breed; she’d be healed in two days’ time from so few lashes, with only a couple new scars for her trouble.
But Patrick? Ten bloody lashes, plus the daily workload required of him, made him susceptible to fever, infection, and plenty of other hardships.
Merrick snapped the whip. Sasha startled at the awful, familiar sound, her muscles bunching in nervous anticipation.
"Hold on to the sides of the table, Sasha," he told her.
She did, knuckles whitening under the pressure of her grip. Every impulse told her to fight or run. She had to force herself to remain still.
As her eyes scanned over the people who were watching, she knew she couldn't escape. These people would be the ones to pay if she did.
Again, he cracked the whip. Sasha felt the weight of it stripe her back, jolting her forward.
"One," she shouted, the word forced out in a hurry. There was always a delay. A few horrible seconds before the searing pain was relayed by her nerves to her brain. Knowing it would come didn’t stop her from bucking when the pain finally hit her.
She swallowed hard, grip on the table tightening, and reminded herself to be still. If she could just take the beating, this would be over.
Merrick didn't dally. He was good with the whip, making it move as he moved. A fluid thing of power and art, he commanded the long lash of it to do his will—as if an extension of himself.
She counted and then he'd strike, watching her, taking in the flinch of her body, the contortions of her face, and every bit of her pain at his hand. He saw everything she didn’t want him to see.
If he'd expected her to cry or beg, then he'd missed the fact that this wasn't her first whipping. It hurt. By the first rod, it hurt. But pain like this was easy.
When she counted out ten, he stopped, walking over to where she hunched over the table. He pried her fingers off the wood and instead of admiring his handiwork, he helped her stand.
Her back was on fire, her legs trembled, and she let herself be moved without trying to shift away. His eyes searched hers, their expression strange. Sasha had no idea what to do. Was that compassion in his eyes? Remorse?
Just as suddenly, that flicker of humanity was gone. He stepped away from her. "Go get a new top and get this mess cleaned up. We have customers and guests to serve. And since you seem to think you are in charge of the drones, you had better start doing a better job of controlling them. Next time, I will not spare them."
Chapter 5
It took Sasha another day to recoup and prepare for her escape. Busy with other things, his outlaw guests among them, Sasha didn't see Merrick. Instead he sent Ditah to check on the results of her punishment from the evening before.
With a superior, cat in the cream expression, Ditah looked Sasha over. "You'll live."
Ten lashes were nothing. By the morning the swelling would go down, and by the next evening, the pain of it would be a memory. The humiliation—having to beg, to say thank you, the touch of his hand between her shoulders—those memories would last longer.
Her biggest concern wasn't escaping or trying to find this male she'd never met. It was leaving the drones behind. Would Merrick question them? Would he hurt them? If he did, it wouldn’t take long for him to find out the truth. Drones were never able to fool a breed.
She warned Silas over and over not to lie about what she was doing. Instead she suggested he tell Merrick that she'd run away into the market. She even suggested he tell Merrick the moment they returned so it didn’t appear they were trying to hide anything.
If they were honest, he’d be less suspicious of them. The whole way to the market that next day, she let her thoughts and feelings about the awful alpha and what he’d done spill freely. She made a show of how upset she was, making a point to mention how little she slept and how bad a man she thought Merrick was. By the time she was done, the drones would have enough of Sasha’s talk for Merrick to drown himself in.
As an industrial neighborhood, Sector 10 had only one public market. Vendors sometimes popped up on populated streets elsewhere, but the main market where everyone gathered was open every day and provided everything a person could need, if they had enough coin to buy it.
Held in the shadow of the Administration building, the market filled three streets and alleyways. Rebuilt by King Rhineholth, this part of the city was new. The modern buildings had fewer stories, giving an open feel to the streets. It was a refreshing change from the older areas of the city where the tall husks of drone built relics cast long shadows over everything.
In keeping with the tidy lines of the modern buildings, the market was clean and waste free. The additional patrol necessary to maintain the order and cleanliness of the place meant people were able to offer all manner of goods for sale without fear of their merchandise being stolen.
Households large and small always had things to sell, and though the variety might have been limited by the season, the quantities of fresh food available to the public were staggering. Many of the market merchants were breed women, their faces obscured by the scarves in fashion with the queen and signaling their marriage status. Even poor women liked a bit of color.
Eggs, cheese, butter, fruits and vegetables—anything that could be raised or grown was available for purchase. Even varieties of small livestock were available in the side alleys, usually tended to by the older children in the family and household drones.
Sasha had always thought this the best part of the sector. People, colors, textures, so much to see. She loved visiting here.
Before his death, Sasha’s father let her spend the day with him here as he sold their gin and mead by the bottle. Most people were too afraid to haggle with an alpha, but that didn't stop sector citizens from buying out their stock before the day's end. Sasha quickly learned to never underestimate the power of alcohol. Breed and human alike couldn't resist it.
She felt safe next to her father and had been glowing with the joy of spending the entire day with him. Even if he left their table for a moment to talk to friends, he always stayed where he could see her, and no one dared come near. Edin Dover had been well known and universally liked in Sector 10. No one crossed him.
That made his death some two years after their market visit all the more shocking. Attacked while on business, Sasha couldn’t imagine who would have wanted him dead. The loss was devastating.
Silas leaned over, interrupting her thoughts. "You should cover up more. What soap did you use?"
"I used Lanny’s good soap. Everything will be fine. Stop worrying."
He tugged at the hood on Sasha's coat, covering her tightly braided hair. Lilla had done it for her in the style a drone mother might do for her daughter. "I don't like this, girl. This is a fool's errand. And I'm the fool for letting you go."
"I'll be fine. But I can't cover up. If I do that, someone will want to know why."
She tugged at the black collar on her neck. Silas had found it somewhere and put it on her after leaving the compound. Patrick and Lilla, riding with them, sai
d nothing, but their eyes had gotten big at the sight of it.
"You keep that credit hidden, yeah? Two in the hand and the rest hidden. Don't flash it where someone can see and rob you. The enforcers here won’t help a drone child."
"I know, Silas."
"Don't go anywhere alone. Stay in a group. Can you do that? How are you going to do that?"
"I'll find a drone herd on their way to work. It will be fine, Silas."
He seemed ready to give her instructions all day, but Sasha kissed him on the forehead, stopping his lectures. "I will see you soon."
It didn’t take her long to find the stop for the bus that would take her to the sector crossing. Transport came once every hour, with only a limited number of seats available. It was always packed tighter than a box of crackers with people.
Sasha had to wait two hours to get a seat. Finally climbing aboard, she pretended she knew what she was doing, and where she was going, mimicking the other drones. Luckily, there were some other young girls to sit with.
As they traveled, Sasha asked the girls about transports, maps, and crossing sectors. Though none of them had ever gone as far as Sector 7, they assured her that public transports were much better once you were out of the slums. Everything was much better outside the industrial sector.
They also talked about food, clothing, their parents, and the boys they liked. Drone relations were one of the most fascinating things Sasha had ever listened to. Not even Lilla and Lanny could explain to her about what made a human male “cute” and how a word meant for babies could apply to boys in the first place.
These girls talked about males—who had kissed who, who had disappeared into the pantry for twenty minutes—as if they were as interchangeable as clothing. The bus ride took two hours, but Sasha barely noticed, lost in their stories.
Her life, she decided, would be so much easier as a human. There would be no estrous with its urgent, overwhelming need to be conquered by the strongest alpha. No bond with its potential to shatter and break a mind.
She mused on those thoughts, daydreaming of a simple human existence. When the bus stopped and everyone exited, reality intruded again. Although the separation between the two sectors was only a short wall, it was still monitored. Wearing gray king’s army uniforms and carrying batons, breed Administration enforcers controlled all the incoming and outgoing traffic.
Talkative and outgoing among themselves on the transport, the girls tightened up with fear at the sight of the alpha and beta officials. No amount of exposure could make a drone easy among men like this. They were too potent, too unpredictable.
"Avoid the big one. Keep your eyes on the ground. You look at him and he'll take you for questioning. And you don't want that one questioning you about anything," one of the girls from the bus told Sasha, tipping her chin in the direction of an alpha.
No, Sasha did not want that.
Bearded, his heavy eyebrows lowered as he watched the foot traffic, the male gave off an air of humorless impatience. Clearly, he was not one to cross. Helping her would be the last thing on his mind if he caught her.
Though she was drenched in the scent of the surrounding drones, the possibility of capture by one of the breed guards was still high. One could never underestimate the male ability to pick out suspicious persons from the crowd. Their heightened senses made subterfuge difficult.
As if separated by an invisible wand, drone and breed moved into their species groups. Sasha kept her head down and stayed as close to the human girls as she could, all her focus on getting through this checkpoint to the next transport.
Anything unusual could attract the enforcers. No one would stop them if they decided to pull a person from the crowd for random questioning. They had all the power of the king and the Administration on their side, and they relished using it.
One of the betas had a short staff with a rounded ball at the end. He poked and prodded at the steady stream of people as if he were managing sheep. The round end found Sasha's bottom as she walked past him with her group. It was all she could do not to turn and snap at him. She forced herself to think of the next stage of the plan, centering her focus all on the future and not on the menace of bored men with too much power at their disposal.
Head down, Sasha watched feet and the sidewalk instead of her surroundings. When the surrounding crowd loosened, their tension melting away, she realized she’d made it through her first test. She’d left Sector 10 behind her, without incident.
Taking a deep breath, her first taste of independence, she tried to soak it all in. The moment felt glorious. Spinning in a little circle, unable to hide her glee, her small victory washed over her. She’d done it.
The next sector was much better, just as the girls said it would be. Here, drones were free. She took off the ugly collar, stashing it in her bag of meager supplies. A different world than the one she’d left behind opened before her. The relief of the place settle over her shoulders, a completely different atmosphere. There was no sign of decay in the buildings. All the structures were well maintained. Unified in design, as if they’d been built at the same time with the same plans.
Even the people were different—cleaner, shinier. The drones walked with their shoulders back and their eyes forward instead of hunched in, afraid to be noticed.
Sasha felt the difference and adjusted her attitude, lifting her head, putting her shoulders back. Here, even the drones walked with self-respect. But she’d have to change her clothing as well. Ragged and mended, she still resembled a slum rat. Exuding confidence when she walked with the drones, she deflected curious eyes with a diffident smile until she found a shop and covered up in a woven robe. It wasn't new, but it was newer and not as obvious.
In their guise of civility and order, these streets felt safe. Wall murals advertised images of a content society obeying Administration law. There were several signs with portraits of the king and queen that read, “Breeder laws bring happy lives.”
The transport station was easy to find, new cars arriving at regular intervals. Sasha made light conversation with the drones about her father telling her to apply for work at the household of Constantine Kane. Eyebrows raised in speculation and a couple of expressions paled, reassuring her he was the alpha to protect from her mother and Merrick.
After a day of walking and a few hours on the transport, she had to spend the night outside, tucked under the low hanging branches of a tree. In this foreign place, night birds calling and a dog barking in the distance, she slept, grasping her goal in her mind’s eye like a lifeline.
Chapter 6
Sasha’s grand plan and her ready arguments shriveled in the fear that overwhelmed her the moment she stepped into the room with Alpha Constantine Kane and his guest. She’d finally made it into the man’s presence, only to recognize that she’d made the worst mistake of her life.
"You are not Mary," he said. His voice was a low, masculine growl vibrating her bones. A dangerous wolf at her back. While all alphas had that tone, deep and powerful at any volume, Constantine Kane's voice was a distinct, life altering experience. It was not a voice one dared say no to. Ever. It was not a voice one wanted to hear when he was angry.
It made her afraid.
Nervous already, her hands trembling, Sasha stumbled over her answer. "I'm not Mary. She was busy."
This was true, and she was glad of it. A lie would have been impossible with this male. His aura chilled the room, a leashed threat. His self-assurance and power unlike any she had encountered before.
Sasha had helped Mary be busy so that she could answer the call to go to the conference room and clean up a little mess. It was the perfect opportunity, the one she'd been waiting for while hiding in the kitchens, acting useful. The household was busy enough that no one had the time to question an extra pair of helpful hands.
Nothing had ever made her feel as weak and as helpless as the apex predator growl of the alpha warlord at her back. He was wholly out of her experience range. His smell, hi
s voice, his very presence made her tremble and rethink all her choices in the last three days.
The reality smacking her in the face now made her physically ill. Who was this male, and by the rod, why had she ever thought he was the one to save her?
She looked at the floor, cleaning buckets dangling from her hands. She couldn't look up. She didn't want to see what monsters surrounded her. His presence robbed her of all her confidence and bravado.
Why had she dared this?
There was another man seated nearby, close enough to her that she could see the ornate hem of Administration robes out of the corner of her eye. He grunted impatiently.
"Clean that mess and get out. I can't stand the smell of blood and brains this early in the morning. Shit, Kane, I haven't even had breakfast yet."
"It's never too early to kill liars," Kane replied with a lazy drawl.
Was he talking to her? Or about the previous owner of the blood and brains?
Sasha could feel the burn of his eyes on her as she lurched to the chair and wall where, to her horror, a liar's head had been smashed like a melon. There was no corpse, but spattered and pooled blood, pulpy slime, and bits of skin stained everything in the area.
She had grown up surrounded by casual, thoughtless violence. Merrick himself had taught her the many ways that alphas reveled in savagery.
This was something new.
She’d had no idea this was the kind of mess Mary had been called to clean up. Was this routine? Did poor Mary have to drag soap and bleach up here every day to wash blood and guts off the walls and floor?
Piss, shit, vomit, spills, fluids left over from sex, blood from bar fights—for the last two years she had been helping the drones of Drover's End deal with all of that. This was a brutality that she had never seen before. She couldn't process it.
Sasha was going to be sick. She was going to faint. She needed to run. Impulse after impulse bombarded her.
She forced herself to her knees beside the mess, the buckets clattering beside her. Soapy water spilled. She spilled more when she tried to seek out the scrub brush in the nearest bucket.