Enslaved

by Evangeline Anderson

  “You got them?” Trin jumped up from the bunk, shedding the thermal blanket in her excitement. “You got the crystals?”

  “Of course I did,” Thrace said roughly but he couldn’t help liking the excitement and joy he saw in her eyes and knowing he was responsible for it. “Had to blast some big holes in a few of B’Rugh’s thugs to get both them and you out of there but I got them.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Trin actually laughed, a low, musical sound that he liked a hell of a lot. “Amazing.” She frowned. “Now that I think of it, the last thing I remember before I blacked out was that we were surrounded.”

  “Not for long. I rigged the blaster’s power switch and turned it into a heatbeam—little trick I learned in the war with the Lud’oms. Cut a few of B’Rugh’s thugs in half and blasted a few more to puddles of twitching ooze…they got out of the way pretty quick after that.”

  Her eyes widened. “You overrode the safety setting? You could have blown your hand off!”

  Thrace shrugged. “It was a calculated risk—like the one you took. Just so happens it paid off. You complaining?”

  “No…” She looked thoughtful. “I guess I don’t have room to complain considering the results. It’s something I never would have done myself but well…”

  “But your new slave is crazy,” Thrace growled. “So he does whatever the hell it takes to get the job done.”

  * * * * *

  “I’m glad you do,” Trin said seriously. She was still stunned that he’d come for her—she really couldn’t complain about his methods. “Listen, about this slave business,” she began. “You really don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do,” Thrace interrupted, frowning. “I told you, a Havoc always pays what he owes. It’s a point of honor and pride among us. If you deny me the right to serve you until I have paid this debt, my honor will be forever darkened.”

  “Well…” Trin looked at him uncertainly. Males were such strange creatures—so big and strong and stubborn. There seemed to be no reasoning with him about this. Though she honestly felt he had more than paid his debt by rescuing her from B’Rugh’s horrible plot, he seemed determined to help her sell the crystals as well.

  But can I trust him? What’s to stop him from taking over the ship the minute I let him back on board? Of course if he’d wanted to do that, he probably already could’ve done it when he got out of his chains in the first place. How had he gotten free, anyway? A sick feeling formed in the pit of her stomach.

  “How did you get loose in the first place?” she asked softly. “My crew…”

  “Are fine,” he assured her. “Your good friend, Sidna let me go. Then she held me at blaster point and forced me into one of the pods—this one, in fact. I’m afraid we had to leave yours behind back at the Demon’s Eye since I couldn’t pilot them both.”

  “Sidna let you go?” Trin asked without surprise. It was exactly what the medic had been advocating before she left—the exact course of action Trin herself had decided on, in fact. She supposed she ought to be mad at her friend for going behind her back and making the final decision without her but considering the circumstances, she really couldn’t be upset. If Sidna hadn’t set the huge Havoc free, Trin would be helpless, at the mercy of the slimy B’Rugh right now. Ugh!

  “She let me go and she’s fine—they’re all fine. Trin…” Thrace looked at her steadily with those pale, piercing eyes. “Let me do this. You need me to make the sale on Yonnie Six—I know you do. Sidna said so.”

  Trin frowned, trying to think of an objection. One popped immediately to mind.

  “My crew won’t like it,” she said. “They think you’re a monster and they saw Sidna escort you out of the ship at blaster point. They’ll never believe you asked to serve me.”

  “I’ll make them believe,” Thrace promised steadily. “I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

  “They won’t like to have a male—especially such a, uh, big one running around the ship free,” she pointed out.

  “That’s probably true.” He sighed. “All right, I can’t believe I’m saying this but…put the pain collar back on me. Then keep the remote on you at all times if you want.”

  “Ugh!” Trin made a face. “I threw it away as soon as I got you aboard The Alacrity! I can’t bear those things!”

  “I fucking hate them too,” Thrace said steadily. “I have good reason ton. But your crew needs assurances and I can tell you still have some doubts as well. So dig it out of your trash bin, dust it off, and put it on me.”

  Trin looked at him uncertainly.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Positive. Once we get to the ship I’ll wait in the pod with the doors locked until you get the collar and bring it to me. Bring the crew too—let them watch you put it on. That should put their minds at ease.”

  “And all this just so you can pay your debt?” Trin still couldn’t believe it.

  His pale eyes flashed.

  “You’re damned right, Trin. I won’t go through life owing anyone so much as one fucking credit—let alone fifty thousand of them. I pay my own way.”

  Trin suppressed a small smile.

  “You know, if you’re going to remain my slave and it’s going to look convincing, you’re going to have to start calling me Mistress.”

  Thrace cleared his throat and looked at her.

  “I can do that…Mistress.”

  The word sounded strange in his deep, gravelly voice and yet right somehow in a way Trin couldn’t define. She looked at him for a moment more and made her decision.

  “All right,” she said at last. “We’ll do it. You’ll remain my slave until I can sell the Jaxite crystals on Yonnie Six. After that, we’re even and you’re free to go. Or I’ll drop you off wherever you need to be. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” He nodded his head. “Mistress.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Thrace didn’t know why he’d asked to stay on as Trin’s slave. Oh, he knew the outer reason—the one he’d given her—that a Havoc always pays his debts. But there was more to it than that, though he hardly wanted to admit it, even to himself. The plain fact was, he was reluctant to leave her.

  Maybe it was the way she’d felt in his arms, the scent of her hair and skin, the helpless way she trembled against him as he tried to warm her. Maybe it was her soft voice, her sweet laugh or that warm, feminine scent that followed her everywhere and seemed to get into his brain somehow. Thrace didn’t know—he only knew he wasn’t ready to leave yet. And even if it meant putting back on that fucking pain collar and calling her his mistress, he was going to stay until he was damn well ready to go.

  His only reservation was that he felt bad about not going to look for Solar right away. But his First Mate and best friend was a resourceful son of a bitch. He would land on his feet wherever he was. Thrace promised himself as soon as he had seen this thing through and paid off his debt, he would go looking for the other Havoc. In the meantime, he had unfinished business that he had to see through before he could consider himself free to hunt down his friend.

  Consider yourself free—right, whispered a sarcastic little voice in his head. Why are you really doing this, Thrace? What is it about this female that makes it worth giving up the chance to go free and putting that fucking pain collar on again? She doesn’t even like males and she’s damn sure never going to let you have her. Even if she would, it’s not like you’d want to bond to her—you’re Havoc remember? ‘We do not bond’—it’s your fucking code. So what the hell is wrong with you and why are you doing this?

  Thrace didn’t have the answer for the little voice. It’s the debt, he told himself stubbornly. I have to pay my debt. Only then can I truly be free. Only then can I leave. Not before.

  At last they docked with The Alacrity and Trin went out to get the collar. Thrace stayed in the pod waiting for her, trying to steel himself for what he had to do.

  It had been his idea, of course and it was a good one—the only way she
and the rest of her crew could trust him. But still, when she returned, holding the hated black leather strap studded with silver spikes, Thrace was surprised at the rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to swallow hard and clench his jaw to keep himself in control.

  Let’s fit you with a collar, my boy, whispered the voice of his old Master. I think it might teach you some respect…

  He closed his eyes, breathing hard. Stop it…fucking stop it! That’s over and done. This isn’t the same at all. The collar is for show this time—just for show!

  “Thrace, are you all right?” Trin’s soft, concerned voice made him open his eyes and look up at her. Speaking of this all being for show, he saw that the crew was crowded behind her in the entrance of the pod. There was Sidna, the ship’s medic staring at him with hard, uncompromising eyes and the navigator, a female in her forties with short blonde hair and a curious gaze. There were others too, whose roles he didn’t know, but all of them were female and all had skeptical looks on their faces. Clearly they would take some convincing.

  And you sure as hell can’t convince them that you’re doing this willingly if you go fucking berserk while they’re watching. Get hold of yourself, Thrace! he lectured himself sternly. Just get through this thing. Once the collar’s on it won’t be so bad. Remember who’s going to be holding the remote—it’s Trin, not the Master.

  “Thrace?” Trin asked again and he nodded shortly.

  “I am well.” His voice came out stiff and halting and he tried again. “I am well and ready to be collared.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Sidna said flatly. “You’re saying he’s staying on as your slave willingly? And he’s also willing to wear the collar—the one that almost killed him?”

  “He is,” Trin said steadily, looking at Thrace though she was answering the medic. “Thrace volunteered to wear the pain collar so that you and the rest of the crew would know he is not a threat. I have the remote and I will use it if it looks like he is trying to harm any one of us.”

  “I would expect nothing less,” Thrace said stolidly. He took a deep breath. There was nothing to do but get it over with. Taking a step towards her, he fell to his knees on the cold metal floor at her feet. “Mistress,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse and gravely. “I submit to you and offer my neck for your collar. I will serve you until I die or until you set me free.”

  Trin cleared her throat. “And you submit to my collar and my will of your own volition?”

  “I do,” Thrace said hoarsely. “I will belong to you body and soul. I will protect you with my life, shield you from harm in times of danger, and pleasure you in times of peace. To the last drop of my blood, I…am…yours.”

  Those words…the words he had always refused to say. He said them to Trin now. They brought back more memories—an evil tide of poison from the past that threatened to drown him. Say it! the Master screamed. Say that you’re mine! Fucking say it, boy!

  Thrace bowed his head, trying to drive the tide back, to banish the past. Gods…

  “Thrace…” Trin reached out tentatively and stroked his hair. It was a gentle touch—the same way she might soothe an animal on the verge of panic. Thrace found himself soothed by it now.

  He couldn’t help himself—the memories had undone him and for a long moment he couldn’t push them back. He leaned into her touch, looking for reassurance, needing her scent and the warmth of her hand to know it was safe to do this…safe to submit to the collar he had so hated in the past.

  Not the Master, he told himself over and over. She’s not the Master.

  Why the fuck are you putting yourself through this? demanded the sarcastic little voice in his brain. Why endure the pain and the rush of bad memories? Is it really just to pay a debt?

  Again, he had no answers. He simply held still under her touch, breathing her warm, feminine scent and trying to calm his screaming nerves. Even surrounded by B’Rugh’s goons he hadn’t felt this fucked up—this threatened. In a moment he would be able to bury the past again. But for now, it was all he could do to hold still and let this happen, all he could do to submit to the collar for her sake though he still didn’t know why exactly he was doing it.

  “Thrace,” Trin whispered again and her hand moved lower, caressing his cheek, cupping his jaw.

  A warm current seemed to flow through him at the skin-to-skin touch and at last his labored breathing became easier.

  Not the Master…The past began to recede.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” Trin asked in a low voice, for his ears alone.

  Thrace looked up at her. “I have to,” he murmured. “It’s the only way you can trust me.”

  She looked troubled but at last she nodded.

  “True. All right—here goes.”

  Thrace held his breath and closed his eyes as she fastened the hated black collar around his throat, making sure it wasn’t too tight as she fit it in place. Not the Master…not the Master, not the Master…

  “There.” She said at last, cupping his cheek again. “It’s done.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.”

  Thrace could barely get the words out. Turning his face, he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand. It was the final gesture of submission—kissing the hand that collared him.

  He knew it was the correct gesture because it was what the old Master had demanded of him. But he had never given the old Master that satisfaction or said the words he had spoken to Trin, no matter how much the Master shouted and raved and hit. No matter what…other things he did.

  Now he gave the gesture of submission to Trin without hesitation, just as he had given the words.

  Why?

  He still didn’t know.

  The debt. I just have to pay off the debt.

  The debt. Right.

  “Rise, slave,” he heard her say in a strange, slightly strangled voice. “I claim you as my own and demand your utmost respect and loyalty at all times. You will serve in whatever capacity I deem necessary and you will not be free until I say you are. Until I remove this collar and give you your freedom you are mine.”

  So she knew the words too. Was that from being around the mistresses of Yonnie Six? Thrace wondered as he looked up at her and got slowly to his feet.

  He heard an uneasy murmur from The Alacrity’s crew as he stood to his full height and towered over all of them. But Trin held up a hand to quiet them.

  “You all saw the ceremony,” she said in a clear, ringing voice. “You see that Thrace is wearing the collar and I have the remote.” She lifted it high, letting them all get a good look. “You can go about your business now with confidence that you’re safe.”

  “I don’t feel so very confident,” the navigator said, frowning. “Why would he let you put the collar on him in the first place? Why come back when Sidna had set him free to go his own way?”

  “To pay a debt,” Thrace answered before Trin could speak. “You may not think much of males but my people are honorable. Captain Trin…my Mistress, paid a great deal of credit to buy my life. When I have paid that back, we have agreed she will set me free and let me go my own way. Until then, I am her humble, obedient, and willing slave.”

  “Well…” The navigator looked somewhat mollified. “I guess we’ll see about that. But I hope she shocks the hell out of you if you try anything.”

  “I will,” Trin said steadily. “You don’t have to worry about your safety—none of you do. The remote is now keyed to my heat signature and palm print alone. No one else can use it and no one can take it from me. Here, Sidna—try.” She held out the remote to the medic and waited until the older female unfolded her arms and reached for the small black rectangle.

  “Ouch!” She jumped back as a bright spark flashed between her fingertips and the remote.

  “See?” Trin said, smiling grimly. “Perfectly safe.”

  “How do we know he can’t take it?” one of the other crew members demanded.

  “If Thrace so much as touches
the remote it will cause his collar to deliver a very painful shock,” Trin announced.

  “Let’s see it,” Sidna said.

  “No, I won’t be needlessly cruel. He—” Before she could finish, Thrace reached for the remote.

  The moment his fingertips brushed it the pain collar delivered a current of electrical pain so strong it made his entire body feel like he’d been dipped in boiling oil.

  “Gods!” He gave a hoarse gasp and fell back to his knees, his hand clenched into fists and his heart pounding. Son of a bitch that hurt! But he well knew how necessary it had been.

  “Thrace!” Trin knelt by him at once, putting the remote carefully to one side where everyone avoided it like the plague. “Are you all right?” she asked, looking at him anxiously.

  “Fine.” He looked up at her, panting. “Just…had to do it.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She looked back at the crew who was still standing there, staring. “Go on, all of you. Back to posts. And Nanda,” pointing at the navigator. “Set a course for Yonnie Six.”

  There were several subdued murmurs of, “Yes, Captain,” and the crew immediately disbursed. All except Sidna who stood there staring at him for a long moment, a stony, disbelieving look on her face.

  “Sidna, you too.” Trin frowned at the medic who shrugged.

  “As you wish, Captain.” But she gave Thrace another hard look before she walked stiffly off, her soft soled shoes whispering along the metal floors.

  * * * * *

  Thrace tried to laugh but it came out sounding more like a croak to Trin.

  “She doesn’t like me,” he muttered, nodding at Sidna’s retreating back. “Doesn’t like me one damn bit.”

  “Because she doesn’t know you yet. Or trust you,” Trin said. She was still kneeling beside him, keeping one arm on his muscular bicep and watching him anxiously. From the moment she’d produced the collar, something had been wrong.

  She’d seen his eyes go wide and the almost panicked look come into his face. She’d never seen that look on him before—not on the display platform in the Flesh Bazaar, not when he woke, chained to the cot and helpless, and not when they were surrounded and outnumbered by B’Rugh’s thugs.