Acquired Possession (The Machinery of Desire Book 1)

by Cari Silverwood

  “Not the spear, of course. It’s too fast. Say if you’ve changed your mind, won’t you? So we can all laugh again. Not the spear. We’ll use the hooks. Cut away her clothes where you need her bare!” He waved to the guards as they pulled her backward by the leash. “Amuse me.”

  He leaned his chin on his hand, and she was sure his eyes glittered.

  Hooks. Just the word frightened her.

  If Mako wanted to change the Swathe, he needed a damn big lever. This would fit right in on the first level of Hell.

  He didn’t stop talking. While the guards prepared her with knife and with assessing male smiles that stripped her before the knives had cut a single thread of her clothes, Ormrad began to describe what the hooks meant.

  “This slave will have her dress cut away where the hooks will penetrate her. Those are large, as you can see.”

  They lay a few steps to the right of her feet and were big enough to catch sharks, shiny and sharp and smooth. At least they didn’t have serrations. I should count my fucking blessings then.

  Should she tell him no, to stop, that she’d changed her mind? He didn’t mean to stop. He’d said they’d laugh. And she wouldn’t change her mind.

  “She will likely urinate when those enter her, and scream.”

  She swore through a book-load of curses, found her whole body had started to shake.

  Maybe she should beg? Everyone had limits. Everyone.

  She could stop this with a few words. The truth.

  Should she suffer, or Mako and JI? They’d hunt JI down too. No. No. She just couldn’t.

  The guards began to cut circles of fabric from over her breasts, her stomach; then they cut the dress shorter so her thighs were exposed. At her back, one of them cut away more fabric.

  Her poor pink dress. That Mako had chosen it for her made her weep.

  Tears slipped down her face as they tugged her this way and that way, turning her for access. Wasn’t the fear, the crowd leering, the guards manhandling her, it was the thought of him learning what they’d done to her.

  She wouldn’t give in. It would sadden and sicken him, her fate, but better than finding out she’d betrayed him for what amounted to a bucket of gold.

  Yet she doubted herself... How much could she take before screaming for mercy?

  Give in, began to repeat at the back of her mind. He wouldn’t blame her but that only firmed her resolve.

  “The usual with females is to pierce them at breast, stomach, upper thigh, and upper back. The skin may tear and bleed as they are hoisted aloft, and there will be more screaming through the gag they will place on her. Because we need her to talk, she will be lowered at regular intervals, degagged, and questioned.”

  Though his voice droned on, she found she’d entered some muffled state where only the floor mattered where her feet stood. Better, much better. She swayed. Stay here, it’s safe.

  “First hook!” A guard yelled, jarring her safe thoughts as he brandished something and turned in circles to show the crowd.

  She broke from the fog and gasped at the sight of the ugly crescent of metal. That inside her flesh. The rope attached to it led away to the high ceiling. Up there was an entire nest of ropes, all descending to the gathering of hooks.

  So many.

  The guards threw her down and sat on her arms and legs, grinding her muscle and bone against the hard floor, while the one with the first hook approached.

  “Here first?” He grabbed her by the breast, making her flesh bulge. “Straight through the middle, hey?”

  “Get on with it Jugger,” one of the men holding her down muttered. “Don’t be so evil.”

  Oh god. A nice guard. That one glared at her and seemed to take in the fear she must show then he fastened his palm over her eyes, blinding her.

  “Do it fast!” he snapped. “All of them. They don’t pay enough for this.”

  “Yeah, do it,” another whispered. “Stick her somewhere vital so she dies fast.”

  “No,” a different voice interrupted. “Do that and the judges will see. We have to do it right. She must be alive so they can question her.”

  “You hear that,” someone whispered. “You’re dying slow. Hold your breath, Slave Twelve.”

  Him, must be the one with his hand around her breast. The one with the hook.

  The needle-fine point touched her and she squealed and tried to wriggle away as it scratched then sank in, popping through her skin and going deeper, but there were too many hands on her, too many holding her in place.

  Screaming, screaming.

  The hook seemed to enter her so slowly and she knew fast was less painful.

  Everyone broke. Beg!

  He wouldn’t blame her.

  Please, please, please, she screamed into the second palm that had been placed over her mouth though for sure not a soul heard.

  Chapter 46

  The king’s guards swarmed into the court room along with Gyle, the king’s main advisor, who was shouting stop even as they ran past. In his black-and-gold uniform, Gyle was a figure of authority none would disobey. All movement ceased except for the royal guards, all swung their gaze to see what was about to happen.

  “The king has examined the data offered by Mister Mako Laste and made a decision. He declares it true and factual. The identified conspirators in the plot to assassinate the king have been arrested, barring a few in here.

  He smiled grimly as guards hauled them from the seats of the court – including the judges flanking Ormrad.

  Mako ignored them, instead he stalked toward where the court guards stood over a woman on the floor. She was bleeding, with ropes snaking over her and metal protruding from her legs, her breasts. Swearing, he broke into a sprint. The guards scattered when he reached them – no doubt wishing they’d had nothing to do with this torture. If he killed anyone all his progress would be eliminated. He confined himself to glaring and baring teeth.

  Blood smeared the floor near her – not a lot, but still far too much.

  He’d been through some traumatic times – seeing Shay and his team disemboweled and killed was top of his past list. Time had faded that, apart from a few jarring flashbacks...but this had him screaming in his mind.

  From the clean look of the ropes, they’d not yet pulled her up on them, thank Arrak.

  He knelt.

  “Emery?” he whispered, wiping her face, brushing away her hair that had fallen over her eyes. A gag, recently loosened, slid from her neck.

  Was she alive? A shuddered breath raised her chest and the hooks impaling her. The flicker of her eyelids had him praying she’d stay unconscious until he could remove the hooks from her...if he could.

  His hand wanted to tremble but he took a second to hold his wrist.

  Behind him Gyle carried on organizing, arresting, stating precise orders. The king had power, when he chose to wield it. The Governance would be cleaned of half its members and Thyra would know who to suggest for election to fill those places.

  “Physician, here!” There was one somewhere. He should’ve come in at the tail end of the guards. Mako took one last look around the people milling and saw no one heading his way.

  Pulling out the hooks couldn’t be that difficult. He’d put needles in her once. Little ones. His forehead corrugated fiercely as he contemplated drawing the nasty thing back out through her skin.

  Blood welled from where it entered her skin.

  Hand to the eye end and follow a curve as I pull.

  He slid the first out, gasped as it left her, his stomach lurching, then tossed the hook aside and put pressure on her breast. Only two more had been done. One in her other breast, one in her thigh.

  “I’m here.” A man went to his knees beside Mako. He put his hands to her stomach and frowned for a while.

  Time stretched to breaking point.

  “Well?”

  “Quiet, please. I need to concentrate.”

  Growling at the physician wouldn’t help, even when he was im
ploding inside.

  “Okay. Done. Not too bad. Small traumas really. They just look bad. I’ll remove the others, sir. The one in her leg will have her limping for a while but it’s not hit anything vital. I’ll keep her unconscious until this is done.

  He nodded and took his hand off her. The bleeding had stopped. The king’s physician would be excellent, of course, and the pure relief of knowing she was okay was why his eyes were wet. Mako wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Barbaric interrogation method.”

  “I plan to have it removed from the list.”

  “You do?” Struck in some way, the man paused and looked up, his long white locks falling over his face. “So the king is really considering you?”

  He sniffed, hard, not that interested in debating this while Emery lay before him. “By a strange twist of fate, most of the candidates have eliminated themselves.”

  “I see. I understand. What you did shows great forethought, determination, and loyalty to the Swathe. All excellent points in your favor.”

  The hook in Emery’s leg slid free, and the physician applied himself to stopping the bleeding, placing a hand to either side of the wounds.

  “Congratulations. You may have set a record. From accused prisoner and tarnished war hero to...something much greater? And all in one day.”

  Mako smiled. It had been a possibility all along once he saw the plotters. “I’m just glad she’s okay.”

  “Well. There may be mental issues. If you still want her as blood concubine, I’m available to you for consultations, sir.”

  He nodded and took off his shirt to cover most of her. Then he cradled her head while the physician busied himself with the last hook in her breast.

  Once the guard had asked Thyra to contact Mako, she had listened to his plea. Luckily, they’d not rescinded all his privileges. Perhaps they’d hoped he’d confess to someone once he saw the court scene? She’d then contacted his sister and his sister, bless her, knew the king even better than he thought. The Royal Patronage had been granted since he left the Swathe.

  The hook from Emery’s breast was laid aside. “Done, sir. We’ll move her to whatever bed you feel is best, soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  The man shrugged, as if thanking him was odd, then began to search in a bag he’d brought.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly to her. “I know you can’t hear me, but I want to say this. I never thought this would be done to you. You were meant to be safe. But after that...” Again he brushed at her hair, rearranging strands. “At least now I know you are mine.”

  The physician cleared his throat. “She can hear you. I let her come up from the darkness.”

  “Oh?”

  Emery’s eyelids slid open and she stared at him with those blue eyes he could lose himself in forever. She smiled faintly. “I’m awake. I heard. And yes, Sir, this...” She shivered. “It made me see that I am yours. I truly am. I couldn’t go on without you. Once I saw that, well...”

  She went to shrug but winced instead.

  The blood on her...this should not have happened. Not to her. His chest chose that moment to hurt.

  “You almost died. I should punish you for trying to die without permission. Are we a bit like Romeo and Juliet?”

  She nodded, grinning. “Yes. I suppose.”

  “You’re a stubborn girl.” He thumbed away a smudge of tear from the corner of her eye. “When you’re better, I will follow through on what I once proposed to do. There’s a ceremony I need to tell you about. It’s a little arduous.”

  “Arduous?” She started to look down, then didn’t, grimacing. Her swallow was slow. “Don’t suppose I should throw up. After this, today, I figure I can wing through anything else. Tell me. Why aren’t I hurting?”

  “I’ve taken away the pain, temporarily.” The physician stood. “Where shall I tell the bearers to take her?”

  “The king’s guest quarters. I’m to be there now. Gyle thought it wise, considering the ahhh strength of the plotters. Until everything settles.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re taking me to the king’s quarters? Sounds posh.” Her tone was flippant but her fingers, where they rested on his hand, were shaking. He took them and held them in his until they warmed and stilled.

  “Whatever posh means, you deserve it.” Then he carefully gathered her in his arms and rose, carrying her toward where the physician was organizing transport outside the court doors.

  “Will you kiss me, Sir?” Such a quiet plea. “Please? I need something good after everything that’s happened.”

  He stopped to look down at her. “My arms aren’t enough?”

  Emery rolled her eyes and screwed up her mouth at the same time, which made him both adore her and wonder how she did it. “They’re nice but kisses are best.”

  Bravery was just the beginning with this slave. Most women would be sobbing and total messes. He surveyed her body and the blood staining the shirt he’d covered her with, wished he could hit someone but knew, again, that he must not.

  “I don’t generally do requests from slaves, but just this once.” Then he leaned in and kissed her.

  “Mmm. Taste good, you do.”

  He walked on. “You know you shouldn’t be so happy. Blood on a slave generally turns me on. Being my concubine will entail more than kisses. For some masters you’d only be gifting your blood to him for Factor H. With me, it’ll mean much more. I’ve yet to turn quite a few places on you red.”

  She said nothing for a while, only turning her face into his shoulder. “I’m ready. I trust you, now. You...intrigue me.”

  “I see.”

  Today was turning out far better than he’d hoped when he awoke.

  The king was considering him for an honor he almost dared not believe was achievable.

  He wasn’t lined up for execution.

  And he had her.

  “You’re mine now. I won’t disfigure you but if you ever run again, I will brand you with my name, with fire, front, back, ass, anywhere.”

  “Owie.” Awe colored her voice. “I won’t be running anywhere, Sir.”

  The way she then wrapped her arm across his back while resting her other hand on his biceps said more than any simple words could carry.

  “Thank you for coming for me.”

  He sucked in a long, irregular breath. “Always, girl, always.”

  “I...I almost told them. When the hook started going in, I broke. I would’ve said if they’d let me. I’m sorry.”

  “Always the truth with you.” He shook his head and tsked. “I don’t care. Anyone would do the same. Torture makes people talk. What you did went far beyond what I would ever have expected of you. I thank you.”

  * * * * *

  Days passed while she healed and the Swathe ground onward to the Gathering site. The plotters were locked up and some were executed, just as he might have been. The king continued to pay him heed, and even visited him twice in the quarters. People took notice and he was definitely served faster at shops. Old friends who’d avoided him became friendly again. New ones who’d stuck by him were overjoyed.

  He didn’t tell Emery what might be coming – she was busy and anxious enough bracing herself for the blood concubine ceremony. She was healing physically, but as the physician had said, the mental scars went deeper. If anything, she now leaned on him as her first recourse in anything that disturbed her. He didn’t mind. Protecting what was his came naturally and gave him exactly what he needed.

  A human blood concubine would be a first for a Mekker.

  The king finally made his decision; the document was delivered to Mako by Gyle, dressed in his court uniform, with black gloves and all. When he read from the announcement written in that perfect script on perfectly white paper, Mako smiled.

  Chapter 47

  They watched the Swathe approach the Gathering site from atop the royal ship. The ice fields were far b
ehind them. It was cool here but not frigid. A thousand feet up, birds circling them, and ahead a gargantuan wreck sprawled across the land. Emery felt like an ant observing the carcass of some long-dead beast a million times its size.

  Struts poked at the sky, reaching far above their altitude, dark ribs stripped of their walls, rotted and torn by years of weathering. The sun sparked off fragments and planes of still-shiny metal. Whatever outer decoration or paintwork had been there was gone except for one incongruous curve of paleness that stretched up a third of the height of the ship from where she was sunken into the dirt. A red alien mark had been stamped there – it might be a number or letter, she couldn’t tell.

  The ground had most of her. Had she plowed in and been buried? Or was this the natural deposits of soil from floods or whatever?

  Some birds must have nested on her upper structure for they perched there in rows.

  It was the engines that made Emery gape. From the size, this had indeed been a starship.

  “When new and intact, she was over fifty times bigger than any of our swathe landships,” Mako said, pulling her down and onto his lap. “They say she was never meant to land on the surface, that something of Aerthe brought her down from the heavens. Perhaps we were at war before then. We certainly were after.”

  She hadn’t realized he’d sat. The wind didn’t pluck at her so when she was encompassed by him, and she snuggled deeper. “And what are those dust plumes in the distance? I counted three.”

  “Those are the other swathes. We are the Royal Swathe but there is also the Lesser, the Greater, and the Lost Swathe. Don’t ask. Yes, we found them. There is supposed to be a fifth that halted in the jungles somewhere south. That was long before I was alive. That a plague hit them was also a rumor. Killed most of them and the halt killed the rest. It’s overgrown, rusted out. There are pictures taken from a distance, but no swathe has ventured too close.”

  “I didn’t know.” She wondered why no one had ever said there was more than one swathe, but again, slaves didn’t need to know such things. “And do you not keep in touch with them when they leave?”