Stolen_Saving Setora_Book One_Dark Dystopian Reverse Harem MC Romance

by Raven Dark

  Naked and alone, the tears flowed, and I gripped the pillow under my head. I sobbed, but it did nothing to soothe me.

  Never, ever had I hoped as hard as I did then that tomorrow would never come.

  Chapter 4

  Hawk

  A tickling on my cheek woke me up. Even without opening my eyes, I knew I wasn’t in my own bed back at the training house. While I pushed my mess of hair off my face, fleeting images streamed through my mind. Damien’s cruel face, a Critian warlord with an evil leer, and someone’s blue eyes filled with lust. The auction. It had happened.

  Opening my eyes, I sat up and looked around the room. There was no sign of Pretty Boy or Steel. With no window, there was no way to tell what time it was, but surely it was morning.

  I dropped back onto the pillow. So much had happened between my brushing down Maja at the Compound and now. I was a stolen slave, stolen by men from the Dark Legion. Damien would find me, that I was sure of. My days were numbered now.

  But hadn’t my days been numbered from the day my mother was taken? Memories of what had happened to her—the road warriors dragging her and my brother Dax away—clawed at my thoughts. I pushed them down before the hope that she was alive could take root. Even if she was alive—and I still wasn’t sure she was—she was safer without me, without my looking for her.

  Guilt tugged at my heart, and I buried my face in the pillow. No matter what happened from this day forward, I would accept what became of me. For what had happened to my mother, I deserved whatever happened to me. Besides, I’d made my choice to allow myself to be taken. I had to live with that choice now. My only option was to make the best of a horrible situation.

  Determined, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I rotated my shoulders and massaged my arms, tight from being restrained last night. Just sitting caused the place between my legs to burn.

  Remembering last night brought a flush to my face, humiliation—and something else I couldn’t identify—taking my breath away. They’d promised that if I obeyed them, they’d make it good for me, and they’d delivered. How could I have taken any pleasure from what they’d done? How could my body have betrayed me so? What if the same thing happens tonight? Tomorrow? Would I grow to crave these feelings they’d awakened in me? The thought was almost unbearable.

  “Good, you’re awake,” a familiar hypnotic voice—Hawk’s—said from the doorway behind me.

  My stomach did a nose-dive. Despite its calm, his voice reminded me of the reality. My captors were the Dark Legion, men who kept their women chained in dungeons. Is that where Hawk would take me now, to be locked away before I could escape?

  The blood drained from my face. Trying to will my hammering heart to slow, I turned to face the entranceway.

  “I’ve come to take you to the common room for breakfast.” His gaze fixed on me, Hawk strode in.

  Breakfast. The fear thrumming through me dispersed in a rush. Now I felt silly. Unwilling to risk eye contact, I focused on his soft suede boots, his long legs clad in black leather.

  He lifted my chin. “Come. I have something you can wear. I know you’re hungry. And thirsty. Probably want a bath, too.”

  His voice was gentle but looking into his golden gaze made me want to run from the room. Steel and Pretty Boy I was used to, and in a strange way I felt safe with them. But this man before me had a quiet intensity that screamed of danger. And I didn’t think it was just because of what he’d said the previous night about killing me.

  Suddenly, the words Pretty Boy had said came back to me. I own all of you. Never forget that. He owns you. Him, me, and anyone else we choose. Was it Hawk’s turn now?

  His fingers on my chin gripped a little harder at my silence. My eyes widened until I realized he was expecting an answer.

  Throat dry, I swallowed down my fear and focused on what he’d said. Food, a drink, a bath, I wouldn’t argue with those. “Yes, sir.”

  His gaze drank every bit of me in, from my no doubt tear-stained face to my nakedness. The possession in his gaze made my core tighten with quiet awareness of him.

  Hawk released me. “Put this on.” He threw a cotton frock I hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding onto the bed. “We need to get going. I’m on break.”

  Remaining seated on the bed, I started slipping on the frock while he opened a drawer in the dresser that stood against the wall near the head of the bed.

  I hurriedly finished putting on the cool material, then buttoned up the front, wincing at every movement. Bruises created red wheals around my wrists, left behind by those scarves, reminders of Steel and Pretty Boy’s ownership.

  The drawer Hawk had opened slid closed, drawing my attention. Hawk returned to the bed with what looked like another frock and a towel from the stack of them on the dresser. In one hand, he held a bag that looked like it was made of velvet. A toothbrush stuck out of it.

  The thought of a bath was like a balm on my soul. I wanted to scour every lick and thrust, every drop of sweat from my skin.

  He handed me the items and helped me off the bed. My knees wobbled enough that only his grip prevented me from falling on my face as we walked out of the room. I must have made a pained sound, because Hawk stopped walking and looked me over.

  “Weak as a kitten, no doubt.” He placed his hand on my throat slowly, carefully, like I was made of glass. Confused, I looked up at him. “Kitten… I think that’s what I’ll call you.”

  His voice had that mesmerizing tone again, but a moment later, he shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. A frown pulled his mouth down. His hand dropped. Whatever I’d seen in his eyes was gone now as he took my arm and led me out into Pretty Boy’s living area, then to the outside.

  Kitten. He hadn’t asked my name. Neither had anyone else I’d met here. Did Pretty Boy or Steel know my name? No, the only way they would have is if someone had mentioned it at the auction, and Damien wouldn’t have done so with a slave. Herma had told me once that a slave’s name was what her master chose it to be, so their lack of interest in mine shouldn’t have affected me, but it did. It made me profoundly sad, reminding me of my painful naiveté in thinking I’d ever be anything but a slave in every sense of the word.

  Outside, I blinked in the bright, early morning light. Everything was dappled in golden sunlight, the grass and trees saturated in such vibrant colors that I thought I’d go blind. Here and there on stretches of open field, tall solar trees rose from the green, the many solar panels jutting out at all angles on movable arms to angle them with the rise and fall of the sun. The distant rush of a waterfall competed with the warbles of a dozen birds that flitted between the branches of trees I’d never seen before and couldn’t name.

  I looked around in wonder. We stood on a ledge on the side of one of many cliffs that surrounded a huge, cavernous basin. Dozens of openings led into caves that dotted the massive rockface. Graveled paths that jutted from the cliffs led up to some of the cave mouths, while walkways made of thick planks of wood and suspended from chains from the cliff walls, zig-zagged up and down, leading to others. A few people made their way in and out some of the caves.

  “Welcome to the Grotto, kitten,” Hawk purred, leading me down a walkway.

  The name fit. Gemstones winked at me from everywhere on the rock. I tilted my head up as we walked to see how high these cliffs went but lost my balance, which caused Hawk to pull me into him.

  “Woman, don’t be doing shit like that. We’re a hundred feet from the ground, and nothing’s going to save you if you fall. Understand? Pay attention to where you’re going.”

  Dropping my gaze on my dirty feet, I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  He grunted and tugged me forward, following the walkway down lower and lower. I hoped that I would have some time alone to look around this strange environment. Even the air here was different, wetter, warmer, yet a cool breeze toyed with the cotton of my knee-length frock.

  The pleasantly warm air brushed my face, tempting me with its
clean, fresh smell. I almost closed my eyes, wanting to lose myself to its caress. Instead, I kept pace with Hawk’s long stride.

  Hawk led me into another large cavern laid out with tables and chairs. A small bar ran along one wall, and a few men sat playing cards or drinking here and there. I looked around for Steel and Pretty Boy. Did I want to see them?

  The smell of fried meat got my attention, and all thoughts of them vanished.

  Leading me to a white, round table for four, Hawk pushed me into a chair and sat across from me, putting his booted feet up on the adjacent chair, arms crossed. I placed the bundle of clothes on the other chair.

  “Crash, bring us a bite, would you?” he called out into the nearly empty room.

  A set of swinging doors banged open, and a burly man backed through them. He spun around with a masculine grace on one booted heal, and I could see he was carrying a tray in one hand. He was handsome in a brutal way, with a scar running through his left eyebrow, and a silver earring shaped like a dagger dangling from his right earlobe. The round tray he balanced on his huge palm held two steaming bowls and a steel pitcher covered with condensation. He came to our table and set the tray down gently.

  Hawk gave him a polite nod. “Thanks, Crash.”

  Crash nodded in return, ignored me completely, and pivoted back toward the swinging doors.

  I was too distracted with watching Crash to think about the food. Why had a man brought out the meal? Such a thing was woman’s purview, a slave’s duty. No self-respecting male would perform tasks meant for a slave.

  Beyond the swinging door, men’s voices—and only male voices—rang out above the sound of clattering dishes. Men handled the preparation of food, too. The notion fascinated me. I opened my mouth to ask about it but closed it. Something about Hawk told me he wasn’t the type to tolerate questions.

  “You have ten minutes. Eat.” Hawk had picked up a spoon from his tray and started on his food.

  I looked at the tray before me. The oatmeal looked like it had been lightly seasoned with some kind of brown powder. It smelled delicious, though I couldn’t identify the scent. Brown liquid that smelled like some kind of tea filled the pitcher. We’d each been given spoons, cups, and squares of white linen.

  Curious, I spooned a little of the oatmeal into my mouth. A sweet favor exploded on my taste buds, turning the dull, tastelessness of the oatmeal into a delicious confection. My brows went up.

  “Sugar,” Hawk said. “It’s maple sugar. You’ve never had it before?”

  “No, sir.” Damien had expensive sugars imported from all over the world, but I’d never been allowed to enjoy them. I shoveled spoonfuls of the porridge into my mouth, caught Hawk watching me intently, and flushed. I doubted I’d ever been this hungry before. Mama’s face came to mind.

  On second thought, I’d been much hungrier than this before.

  “Damien didn’t let me have things like this. Where…um…”

  “What. Speak.” His voice so tight, I wasn’t sure if he was irritated or not.

  “How does the Dark Legion get its hands on maple sugar? Isn’t the closest source the Inda Mountains?”

  Surprise lifted his dark brows. “You know your geography.” He sat back, his eyes meeting mine, seeming to ponder my knowledge.

  Would I pay for that?

  “We get maple sugar the same way we get a lot of things,” Hawk said. “Shipments from Inda come into a zone near here every week. Every so often, a few crates of sugar find their way into our hands.”

  Meaning the Dark Legion stole them.

  I pondered the implications. He’d answered my question more openly than most masters with a slave. The pride in his voice at the actions of his crew made it clear why, but also told me something about the crew itself. The Dark Legion weren’t just pirates, they enjoyed their way of life.

  Unsure what to say, I carefully glanced around the room as Hawk poured the tea into our cups.

  “What do you think of your new home, Kitten?”

  I risked a glance at Hawk’s face, deciphering his intent behind the question. He had his spoon in his mouth, licking the sugar-dusted-oats clean with his tongue. I blushed. Thanks to last night, I now knew what a man could do with his mouth, things that had nothing to do with food.

  “I think it is beautiful, sir. Before now, I would never have imagined anything like this existed.” I dropped my gaze to my bowl of oats and swirled the spoon around before eating the rest of my meal much slower.

  Hawk nodded. His expression looked thoughtful but gave no hint of what those thoughts were. The sunlight from the entrance drew attention to the darkness of his hair, nearly blue-black, a fascinating contrast to those stunning hazel eyes.

  He finished up his bowl with a tinny clash of the spoon, then leaned back into his chair, arms crossed once more.

  “Since you’re new and all, and no one was expecting you, Pretty Boy and Steel asked me to babysit you this morning. Hurry up and finish eating so I can take you to get cleaned up.”

  The question slipped out before I’d considered my actions. “Where are they? Why am I not…with them?”

  “Until we figure out where to put you during the day, you’ll just have to come with one of us. But you can’t be with them, they’re in the mines today.” He stood then and motioned to my bowl. I scraped the last of the delicious oats from the sides of the bowl, down the tea, and patted my mouth with the linen.

  “I’m ready, sir.”

  “Not so fast.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small packet, took my cup, and poured in the contents of the packet—fine white powder. He added the rest of the tea from the pitcher and stirred it with my spoon, then handed the cup back

  “What is this?” I sniffed, suspiciously, but all I smelled was tea.

  “The powder is to prevent pregnancy. Pretty Boy’s orders, Kitten.”

  My eyes widened. Prevent pregnancy? After last night, I could be pregnant now. Horror chilled my blood. There’d been so much going on last night, I’d been too preoccupied to realize.

  Hawk must have picked up on my confusion because he nodded to the tea. “Don’t worry, the stuff I gave you is eye-root. Take it after breakfast every day, and you’ll be fine.”

  An involuntary smile pulled at my lips. Did he mean iris root? Damien had all his slaves take it once they were sexually active. I downed the tea, and then Hawk led me outside without a word.

  I’d hardly have called him companionable, but he’d allowed a moment of…I could only call it a kind of openness…between us I hadn’t expected. What that meant, I couldn’t decide, but I felt myself relax a little. Now uncertainty tightened my gut as he once more became unapproachable.

  Belly full, and a bath on the way, the morning wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared it would be. But when the sun went down, what then?

  Hawk led me through such a maze of walkways, tunnels, and more walkways that after a short time, I couldn’t have found my way back to Pretty Boy’s quarters if I’d tried. The whole Grotto was an endless maze. I’d never find a way out of this place on my own.

  Tightness formed in my belly as we walked, and it had nothing to do with the iris root Hawk had given me. Unlike other expellants, iris root had none of the nasty side-affects other anti-conception drugs did. Of course, the Dark Legion would use the most expensive kind, either having stolen it or bought it using money earned through their thieving. That they had me taking it made one thing clear. These men didn’t want me to make babies.

  Was that a good thing or not? On one hand, if they didn’t want me to become a mother to a whole new generation of road warriors, then they wouldn’t sell me, and I wouldn’t be forced to pump out children like a baby factory. But on the other hand, what did that make me? Little better than a whore, that’s what.

  The answer cut me deep.

  Was being kept here better than being sold? Maybe I’d be better off auctioned off.

  After an unidentifiable amount of time, we came out of a d
imly-lit tunnel and into, what to this desert girl’s eyes, was a paradise. Smooth stone steps led from the mouth of the tunnel down to a pool of crystal blue water, at least twenty feet wide. Though the clear cobalt sky spread wide above us, this area felt like a room in itself, as if it had been carved into the mountain by a deity’s giant hand. A cascade of water spilled from a crevice in the stone wall ten feet above the water’s surface.

  I looked around. How was the water in the pool not rising to the top of the cliffs? It must have been draining out slowly through an opening I didn’t see.

  It looked like Hawk and I were alone, but even so, this area of the Grotto, in its seclusion, gave a sense of safely and protection I’d never before experienced.

  I wanted to stay here forever.

  The sound of a throat clearing made me turn around. Hawk stood a few feet away from me. I looked down and realized that I had made my way down the rock steps to the pool without thinking. I grinned up at him.

  “Sorry, sir. This place is beautiful.” I went to return to his side, but he waved me back toward the pool.

  “Go ahead and get in, Kitten. You’re here to bathe.”

  I couldn’t read his mood from his tone, but the need to wash away the events of last night was almost unbearable. I turned away from him and set the bundle of clothing down, then pulled the frock I wore over my head. With my toe, I checked the temperature of the water before wading into its cool depths.

  Water had never felt so wonderful. I dunked my head in, scrubbing my scalp with my nails. When I surfaced, I swam a little further in, twirling my body, digging my toes into the silky sand on the bottom.

  Hawk squatted on the bottom step when I swam back over to him. He handed me the toothbrush and a small tube of tooth powder from the bag we’d brought. I scrubbed my teeth, spitting in a cup left on a rock, then rinsed.

  Hawk showed me where bottles of shampoo and bars of soap were kept, on a rock shelf a foot out of the water. I chose a shampoo that smelled like some kind of berries. It probably wasn’t as expensive as the shampoo Damien insisted I use, and it likely wouldn’t leave my hair half as silky, but it smelled wonderful. I worked the shampoo into my scalp, then rinsed. Then I scrubbed my arms and legs with one of the soaps. Dunking under and coming up, I shut my eyes in bliss. With the breeze and the smells of foreign plant life around me, I thanked the Maker for this reprieve, this slice of heaven in a life that had taken such a dark turn.