The Highest Bidder

by Desconhecido(a)

  The Highest Bidder

  Copyright © February 2009, Anastasia Rabiyah

  Cover art by Anastasia Rabiyah © February 2009

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  Sugar and Spice Press

  North Carolina, USA

  www.sugarandspicepress.net

  Dedication

  To CDB— the first inspiration for all such naughtiness.

  Chapter One

  Shenya stared at the man’s scars when he pushed back the hood of his cloak. Half his face had been marred by jagged lines. He stood out in the crowd. His eyes were a shade of amber fire that sent chills rippling down her spine. Jet black hair framed his sharp face in thick waves she thought she might want to touch if they were anywhere but here and she were someone else—not a sworn initiate of the temple. He didn’t smile or reveal any sort of emotion, much unlike the other men bidding for her. She knew she ought to feign illness or weakness. The men in Corbit Square wanted a servant girl or a ward to work the fields of jindi that grew beyond the sprawling city. Some might want her for other pursuits—but above all they desired a servant in good health. She raised her chin higher and squared her shoulders, defiant despite her circumstances. The man in the crowd she stared at returned his hands to the folds of his cloak. He could be anything in this lawless town, a traveler, a farmer, an assassin, but she imagined he was someone different—the one man who might deliver her from forced servitude. Help me, she silently pled. Set me free.

  The auctioneer gave her a shove from behind. She stumbled forward and nearly fell from the edge of the wooden platform. He rattled off the starting price. Men stepped forward from the crowd to inspect her by touching her body. Her fingers were tugged. One grasped her breast before he shot her a yellow-toothed leer. Another padded down her limbs and torso to test for any broken bones. She didn’t belong here. Shenya had been a servant for the Assantra of Bien, but her mistress had been brutally assassinated the night before. As part of Haen’s pirated estate, Shenya was being sold to the highest bidder on a warm spring day in the middle of Bisura by the very people who had murdered her mistress.

  With a curt nod from the auctioneer, the inspecting men stepped back to place bids. Shenya searched the crowd for anyone else who might save her, but her attention returned to the man with the amber eyes. She swallowed her fear and forced out a weak smile, hoping to gain his aid. He leaned to one side. His cloak came open to reveal a belt full of daggers. Assassin’s blades, she thought. He’s another one of them.

  The auction began for her body. Numbers danced in the air so fast and furious she could hardly keep track. Hands rose. Interested men nodded or made a sign at the auctioneer. When the bidding slowed, the cloaked assassin took a step forward and shouted out, “Four hundred.”

  The auctioneer choked before he regained his composure. The crowd gasped in unison, and all eyes turned to see who had made such an exorbitant offer. A small wave of fear and excitement rippled through Shenya. Goose bumps prickled her skin when the scarred man smiled back at her. He had a dangerous grin with striking white teeth. His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “The offer is four hundred!” the auctioneer shouted in an attempt to draw another bidder. “Do I hear four-fifty?”

  Feet shuffled. No one raised a hand or nodded.

  The auctioneer stomped one boot on the wooden platform, startling Shenya. “Sold to Brenin Drake for four hundred. Claim your property at the tower.”

  Brenin, her savior, stalked away without a sideways glance in her direction. She watched him go, his gait strong, his broad shoulders hardly swaying as he moved. Shenya had seen magic in her short time with the Assasntra; she knew what those who had magic looked like. Brenin had a darkness in him, a magic she wasn’t sure she could trust. It was not the same as the Assantra’s or the high priestesses of the Othian Temple, for Othia was a god of light. She shivered when a burly attendant grabbed her wrist to escort her away from the platform. The gruff man half dragged her to a squared, dark tower where he shackled her to a hitching post like an animal. His rough fingers left marks on her skin. She stood there rubbing away the pain when her new master appeared with the key to her bonds.

  He stopped before her, his face grim. “I won’t hurt you, little one,” were the first words he uttered. “I’m lonely for my kind, and I suppose in Bisura, you are the nearest to my kind I will find.” He raised a large hand to her face and cupped her cheek. His palm was warm and comforting. His thumb touched to her lips in a swift caress that ended too soon for her liking. Shenya’s body responded. Her nipples hardened and her middle quivered inside with ticklish butterflies.

  Brenin’s hand left her skin.

  Shenya wanted to take his fingers and put them back in place. It would be difficult to serve him and keep her mind steady. He unlocked her shackles and left the metal to hang for the next ward. With a firm hold, he took her small hand in his large one and led her away from Corbit Square. She had to walk twice as fast to keep up with his long legs and swift pace. Behind a tavern, they paused so he could untie a black warhorse.

  “Ladies first,” he whispered against her ear. His warm breath tickled. His lips heated her skin in the scant moment they had made contact with her earlobe.

  She set her foot in the stirrup and heaved herself into the wide saddle. Brenin climbed up behind her and shifted his weight from side to side, testing his position. Shenya leaned back just a little to feel his sturdy chest at her shoulders. His crotch touched her backside. A strong arm curled around her waist to hold her in place. She breathed out. His face touched the top of her head. He breathed in.

  She held her breath.

  “Your name?”

  “Shenya Aubery of Othia.”

  “No one worships Othia here.” His other hand ran along her upper arm, down past her wrist, across her middle and then rested below her navel. Heat spread in her pussy, warm and wet. The idea that he might push his fingers into her skirt and touch her there made her quiver. “Are you marked?”

  “Y-yes,” she answered. All property of the Othian Temple bore a mark. Its wards were tattooed in the exact place his hand rested. The marks indicated status and were a message to anyone and everyone that the Othian’s property must be returned or the god would curse any who kept it.

  “Mm. I don’t fear Othia.” His scarred cheek aligned with her smooth face before his lips dragged over her ear in a slow, tortuous way. “Othia and I are partly of the same ilk.”

  His hand left her belly to grasp the reins. Brenin whistled at the horse, signaling the animal to depart. As they broke into a gallop, Shenya knew her life had taken a strange turn indeed. Each bounce of his body against her backside made her more aware of the thick, hard definition of his cock in his breeches. Each brush of his chest against her shoulders caused her to think of his strength and the force with which he could control her if he so chose. Each exhale of his breath into her hair or beside her face made her want to turn and taste his mouth.

  Chapter Two

  Past sprawling fields of jindi and date palms, Brenin and Shenya rode before they reached a massive estate surrounded by briar roses and thorny cane fruits. An iron archway covered with vines was the entry to Shenya’s new home. The keep was made of black stones with white mortar. Its outer walls had been espaliered with vines and thorn bearing plants. In green pastures beyond, sheep and goats grazed. Several cows plodded along in the distance of the pastoral setting.

  “This is my home,” he said against her face. “Argeth Keep. It belonged to my father and passed to me after his death. You’ll be happy he
re with me.”

  The horse nickered and galloped across the cobbled road to the keep’s entry. In a courtyard lined with fruit trees, Brenin pulled back the reins. He dismounted and held a hand out to help Shenya follow. Two servants came to greet them. Both wore shrouds to hide their faces, and both were women.

  “My yeineis.” He gestured to each. “Masal and Tiern. They will attend to your needs. Anything you desire will be yours. Only tell them and they will do as you ask.”

  “I don’t understand,” Shenya said. She glanced at the women and then at the entry behind her. “I thought I was to be your servant.”

  Brenin frowned. He clasped her hand tight in his. “We will serve each other.”

  She didn’t know what he meant, but followed him through the maze of passages and into the halls of the keep. Tapestries covered the walls to hold in heat and brighten the darkness. Tallow candles let off a buttery glow.

  “I have business to attend to now.” He stopped at an open doorway and nodded for her to go inside the adjacent room. “Masal will come to bathe you and dress you for me. After I finish my duties, I will join you in the dining room.”

  “As you wish, sir.” She wasn’t sure what title she ought to call him by or what more he expected of her.

  “Brenin.” He leaned in and brushed his lips across her mouth. It felt like fire touched her skin. His kiss moved over her chin and down to her neck, leaving a wet trail. She sucked in a startled breath when he kissed her shoulder. His teeth nipped for a trivial second soon replaced by his hot tongue. “You call me Brenin.”

  He stepped back from her and half smiled.

  “Brenin,” she repeated, unsteady on her feet all of a sudden.

  He nodded before he turned his back and strode away, cloak billowing in his wake.

  Shenya backed into the room. She wondered what would become of her in this peculiar place. Certainly as a servant, she knew what was expected of her, but this man obviously didn’t want the kind of servant she had been. It was clear he wanted her for wicked pursuits of the flesh—something of which she had little knowledge about. She walked a circle in the room, her mind turning. Her fingers strayed to her belly and the place where the temple priestess had tattooed her as a child. She had been marked as an initiate, worthy to bear offspring with the chosen men of the Othian Temple, but she had never been bedded.

  Often she had watched from the curtained wall when her mistress took men to her bed. She had witnessed their gruff foreplay and harried mating. The thought of doing such things with Brenin appealed to her. Her fingers trailed lower, down into her skirt to explore her wet folds. She found the stiff nub of her clitoris and circled it with her middle finger.

  “I am here to bathe you,” a feminine voice interrupted.

  Shenya pulled her hand away before the other woman could realize what she had been doing.

  “Brenin will want you dressed as well.”

  She turned. The yeinei servant had a beaded garment folded over one arm. “This way.” She indicated a small door at the side of the chamber. “I will draw the water for you.”

  Shenya followed. The bathing chamber was larger than her quarters back in the last temple she had stayed in. A long stone bench stood at one side. The floor had been cut deep into the stone and heated water rushed in when the servant pulled a forged lever.

  “There are hot springs that flow through the keep,” the yeinei explained. “Undress. I will wash your hair and skin.”

  Shenya pulled off her initiate’s uniform and wondered if this would be the last time she wore the thick skirt and itchy tunic. Self conscious of her nudity, she covered her tattoo with one hand and dipped into the filling basin. The heat sent tingles through her body. She ached and hadn’t realized how tired she was until now. Easing back against the stone side, she tried to relax while the other woman poured water over her hair and scrubbed her scalp with soap. Shenya closed her eyes. A vision of Brenin’s marred face filled her mind. She imagined him taking off his clothes. First his cloak would fall at his feet. Next his tunic. Then the belt of weapons. His chest would be solid and muscular. Her fingers would unlace his breeches and push them down from his naked legs to reveal the treasure that had grinded against her ass when they rode out from Bisura. She was curious about a man’s body and wanted to touch and explore.

  A rush of hot water rinsed away the soap. With a soft cloth, the servant cleansed Shenya’s shoulders and neck. The woman’s gentle, methodic ministrations washed away all traces of travel and suffering Shenya had endured to get here.

  “There now. Come out and I will dry and dress you.”

  Disappointed that this luxury had come to an end, she complied.

  The servant wiped away all the moisture from Shenya’s skin with a thick drying cloth. Two fingers stopped at the mark on her belly, and the woman raised her shrouded face. Behind the netted cloth, Shenya saw curious brown eyes. “What does this mean?”

  “I was chosen for the Othian Church. It is the mark for all to know I belong to the sun god.”

  The yeinei sighed. “You belong to Brenin now.”

  Chapter Three

  Shenya sat at a hewn table laden with food. The dress she wore hardly covered her breasts. The sides were open to reveal her midriff and beads shimmered at every hem, catching the firelight from the enormous hearth. She waited to eat though her food laden plate sat before her. There was wine to drink as well. When Brenin stepped into the dining room, Shenya pushed up from her chair and stood to receive him.

  He wore a sanguine vest over a white shirt. Full black pants and boots made him appear even taller than she remembered. He looked dressed for a court, and the daggers he had worn before were gone now. “Let me see you.” He waved a hand to indicate that she should turn once for his inspection.

  Shenya did so, her body alive now that he was in the room. Goose bumps prickled across her skin when his hand came to rest on her bare waist. His fingers slipped past the silken fabric to touch the top of her ass.

  “This suits you, but I would rather you wore nothing at all.”

  Heat flamed her face. She cast her eyes down but thought the same for him.

  He withdrew his hand and sat beside her to dine. They ate their fill of soup, bread, and roasted game hens. Brenin filled her wine goblet more times than Shenya could count. Each sip added to her lightheadedness. Each moment that passed brought his hand to breech the slashings of her unusual dress. His fingers tested the softness of her left breast and withdrew. His thumb slipped in and went around her navel, pulling away to move on to another part of her body.

  The yeineis came to clear away the plates and uneaten food. As they did, Brenin sat back to admire Shenya. “I will have my dessert,” he said, his mouth twisting in a smirk.

  She looked expectantly at the servants to deliver a confection or pastry, but they walked out of the dining room and shut the door behind them.

  Brenin stood and dragged the tablecloth off. He tossed it over his chair. “Stand here,” he ordered.

  “On the table?”

  He nodded, black locks of hair falling across his unusual eyes.

  Confused, Shenya climbed atop the hewn table and worried that she would fall. She stood up straight while he walked round the table, eyeing her. “You are light. I see the energy within you. I know why the Othians chose you.”

  She nodded. “And you are darkness.”

  His palm ran up under her skirt along her leg. “Lie down.”

  Shenya knelt and then lay on her back. She felt awkward and exposed on the table, like a woman being offered as sacrifice to the sun god. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Mm.” He crossed the foot of the table and took hold of her ankles. With tender urging, he parted her legs. Brenin climbed atop the table and took the hem of her skirt in his teeth. He crawled forward and dropped the fabric over her body, exposing her sex. “I’m going to kiss you. Lick you. Taste you. You are mine now, and I want to know every part of your body.”<
br />
  Her chest tightened. She watched his face dip down to her pussy. He nuzzled her nest of hairs, breathing in her scent, parting her folds, and nestling his mouth to the hard nub at her center. Lips and tongue met her body. A tingle of erotic heat made Shenya flinch.

  “Hold still.”

  She breathed faster.

  Wet and hot, his tongue circled her clitoris.

  Shenya moaned.

  The delicate licking became forceful. His mouth worked along her slit, down and side to side, back to her center, sucking, nibbling, rubbing. She squirmed but he steadied her hips in place with strong hands. She wanted to writhe and escape his attentions so she could catch her breath. He worked harder. Faster. A sweet agony overtook her. She moaned until her voice broke out in a frantic cry.

  Her body seized. She reached down to place her hands over his. Her nails dug into his skin. His lips latched onto her clitoris. A pounding orgasm crushed her awareness. Shenya shook and pushed her body down against his face.