Stolen_Saving Setora_Book One_Dark Dystopian Reverse Harem MC Romance

by Raven Dark

  After a time, we arrived at the laundering hole, where the same women I’d seen the previous day were gathered scrubbing clothing on washboards.

  “Babysitting duty again, Cherry?” one of the women said.

  “Of course.”

  We crossed the large expanse of lawn to the cave that led to Cherry’s and the other slave’s personal quarters. She led me to her personal room, a single catacomb that apparently served as her bedroom and her living area, all in one.

  “Welcome to my hovel, Violet.” Standing in the middle of the cramped and tiny room, she turned around and gave me a look like she was waiting for something.

  I probably didn’t hide my surprise well. The difference between a slave’s quarters and the ones the men had was like night and day.

  A small cot stood in one corner of the room, a few clothes strewn on the mattress, a couch sat pushed against another wall with a small coffee table in front of it, and a hole in the wall served as a cooking area, set up with a metal grill over a pit, only a kettle and a cooking pot atop the grill. It made for cramped living, far from the opulence and spacious quarters my masters enjoyed. Even Steel’s room in it’s plainness looked fancy compared to this.

  “Are all the slaves’ quarters like this?”

  Her perfectly plucked brow arched. “Not what you’re used to, living with the J’nai, I’ll bet. Your room probably looked like a queen’s suite.”

  Hardly. For an instant, I nearly told her the truth. I hadn’t lived in Damien’s mansion like some beloved princess, but in a small training house, with a single personal room like every other slave before her auction. A room that had been inspected every day by the maids, once a week on a random visit by a guard, allowing only a few personal belongings. But what good would it do to tell her? Anything probably looked better than this, and at least I’d been safe.

  When I just waited silently for her, she sighed and went to a small dresser beside her cot. She pulled out a frock and grabbed a towel from the dresser-top.

  “You don’t have a toothbrush then.” She looked me over.

  “I left it in the common room.”

  “Use this one.” She handed me one of those small black bags with a toothbrush sticking out of the top. “It’s a spare one.” She paused, walked around me, and raised her brows again. “They didn’t give you underwear, did they?”

  Humiliation squirmed in my gut. “No.”

  She made a disgusted noise. “Well at least I can give you that.” She went back to the drawers and pulled out a package of new panties and tossed them to me.

  “You don’t have to do that.” I didn’t imagine she had the opportunity to pick up more very often.

  But she waved it off, so I opened the package and took one pair, then handed the rest back. They were pink and lacier than I would have worn, but they had a pleasantly stretchy feel and looked comfortable.

  “Thanks, Cherry. Really.”

  “Don’t make a fuss out of it.” She threw the rest back in the drawer. “Come on, let’s go.”

  On the way out of the slave’s quarters, Cherry picked up a basket of clothing. “I might as well get my sewing done while you clean up.” She tossed a sewing kit from a shelf on top of the pile, and then turned to me, nodding for me to put my things on the pile too. As soon as I’d set the things down, she pushed the basket into my arms.

  “Hold this will you?”

  “Sure…”

  But she turned and walked out of the cave with a satisfied look that made it clear I would be holding the basket all the way to the bathing pool.

  When we arrived at the pool, Cherry sat on a rock at the pool’s edge, the basket beside her, and started on her mending while I stripped and waded into the pool.

  I dunked under, letting the misery of the day’s events wash away, and came up, smoothing my hair back.

  “Maker, this is bliss.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  I looked back at her. She’d taken out a dark men’s tunic and started working a needle and thread through a hole in the arm.

  “You’re not going to join me?” I asked, hoping the invitation would engender trust in her.

  “I had my bath this morning.” She kept her head down, working her needle.

  So much for that.

  “So. You and Hawk, then. How many masters is that now?”

  Her overly casual tone was hard to miss. I’d rather not have answered, but Cherry was Head of Slaves, and that made her my superior.

  “Three more than I want to have, trust me.” I went to the shelf with the shampoos and soaps and took down a bottle of the berry shampoo, watching her reaction carefully.

  Cherry didn’t lift her head from her work. “What about Sheriff?”

  I almost dropped the bottle into the water. “How do you know about that?”

  “Word gets around, especially when it’s about the General.”

  “Great,” Dumping a liberal amount of the shampoo into my hand, I thumped the bottle back onto the shelf and massaged the creamy pink liquid into my hair. “It’s…complicated.”

  “How? Either you’re fucking him or you aren’t.”

  My brows shot up. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  I scrubbed my hair and rinsed, trying to figure out what to say. I had nothing.

  “A warning about Sheriff, Violet. Every woman in the Grotto has her eye on him. Being with the General comes with a lot of perks. I suppose you’re the natural choice…”

  “Wait.” I came up slowly from rinsing. “You think Sheriff chose me? Cherry, the General doesn’t want—”

  “All I’m saying is, if you’re going to go for the crown, watch your back.”

  Was she threatening me? I couldn’t tell. She might have only been trying to warn me against other women who wanted to share the head of the Dark Legion’s bed. Or not.

  It would have been easy to tell her Sheriff didn’t want anything to do with me, and that, after today, the last thing I wanted was a man like him as a master. Not to mention, that however much people might expect it of me as a Violet, I had no aspirations of leadership in the Grotto. Except she wouldn’t have believed me.

  Once I finished bathing, I dressed in the panties and frock Cherry had given me. I’d been right, the panties were wonderfully comfortable, formfitting and soft on the skin. The frock was comfortable, but shorter than I liked in the skirt, barely covering my backside, and a tad loose in the bust.

  “Better not bend over in that thing,” Cherry warned with a grin. “Don’t want those cherry-pit titties to fall out in front of a room full of men.”

  I nearly choked on my own tongue. I straightened, staring. She came over to me, plopped the basket into my arms, and headed for the tunnel that led back to the main area of the Grotto.

  Cherry-pit titties? I’d never heard a woman talk like that before. The anger that had been simmering in me all morning mixed with an odd sort of fascination of her. In danger of slapping her silly, I waited a breath or two before following her.

  “Are we headed to the laundry area?”

  “Not yet. I have to deliver those.” She nodded to the basket of newly darned men’s clothing. I looked over the clothes. She’d put them in thin leather bags that were closed over and buttoned up.

  “Whose are they?”

  “They belong to different men around the Grotto. It’ll give you a chance to see how some other things work here. We’ll start with these.” She tapped the top bag.

  We made our way down a series of walkways until we reached a cluster of cave openings in a huge section devoted to the lower ranking brothers in the club.

  “How are you going to get up to those higher chambers with the basket?” I nodded upward toward three or four cavern mouths. Ladders led up to the walkways that ran past them.

  “This is how.” Cherry squatted on a walk and dug into the bottom of the basket. She pulled out a leather backpack and slipped five of the clothing bags inside, th
en swung the bag onto her back. “Stay here.”

  Standing on one of the lower walks, I watched her climb up a long ladder that led up to the highest level. She followed the path from catacomb to catacomb, hanging a clothing bag inside the entrance of each.

  “Wow.” My stomach flipped just watching how high she was. After finishing on one level, she climbed down to the walk below it, delivered one bag to a catacomb on that level, then two on the level below before she joined me once more on the lowest path. “How can you stand being that high?”

  “Afraid of heights, Violet?”

  “That height, yes.”

  “You get used to it. Come on, there’s a lot more to deliver.”

  I followed, stunned. “Do you usually do the clothing delivery?” It seemed like an odd task for a woman as high up in the ranks as her.

  “Everyone takes turns doing all the duties. Except Gretl, the older lady you saw. She can’t do the climbing anymore. Here, you can deliver these two. Wouldn’t want you to get dizzy and break your fragile little neck.”

  I rolled my eyes, but she ignored it, taking out two bags and handing them to me.

  “Those are Snake’s and Kit’s clothes. To those two caves right there.” She pointed.

  About an hour later, we finished the deliveries, all except for one bag, sitting at the bottom of the basket.

  “Who’s is that?” I nodded to the bag.

  Cherry said nothing, taking off the backpack and setting it in the basket. Her expression looked much more closed off. I looked around, trying to think of another way to get her to open up again. She seemed to like talking about the inner workings of the Grotto.

  “So, I understand the bathing and laundering system, but where do people go to get water for cooking and such? Everyone doesn’t have to go all the way to one of the pools to get water every day, do they?”

  Some of the men had rooms close to the pools, but what about others who lived on the other side of the Grotto or in other sections? Some were over fifteen minutes walk away.

  “No. Come on, I’ll show you that next. I have to get water anyway.”

  I picked up the basket I was apparently assigned to carry now and followed her once again.

  If nothing else, I wouldn’t need the long routines of exercises Damien insisted I do every day while working here. A slave’s work was plenty of activity in the Grotto. Now I could see why Cherry’s calves and thighs looked so strong, even though her hips and backside were generous. Under her frock, she wore a dark black, close-fitting shirt with long sleeves that covered her shoulders and arms. The combination created an interesting, stylish layered look. I could see faint definition on her arms that made sense with the work she did.

  She showed me the latrines, then led me over to another cave ten minutes away with a large well at the center of it. A wheel about one story high spun slowly, purifying the water, spilling it into the well with a splashing sound. The cave was cooler than most, and the water in the well glistened.

  “This is the water we use for cooking and stuff. Each floor in the Grotto has one like this. Every day, one of the slaves is assigned to go to every room in the Grotto, just like I did with the laundry, and drop off two full containers of water for the person living there.”

  “Ah, I see. You guys have created a fascinating system, here.”

  Nodding, Cherry picked up two large, see-through containers and handed me one. “Here. You fill this up, I’ll do the other.”

  Together, we went to the side of the well and dunked our containers, filling them to the brim with clean, cool water.

  As Cherry’s container filled, she turned and flung a handful of water at me. It splashed my face, a cold shock.

  “Hey! What was that for?” I blinked and wiped the water from my face and eyes.

  “Felt like it.” Her lips pulled into a lopsided grin.

  “Oh, really?” I dunked my hand in and splashed her right in the face. “Head of the Slaves or not, I’ll get you back.” She squealed, and I got her again.

  Before I knew it, we were racing around the well, soaking each other and squealing with laughter. Never had I felt so relaxed, so at ease.

  Then I remembered. I had felt like this, not so long ago on my horse’s back.

  Maja. My chest constricted and suddenly I missed her with painful intensity. She was the closest thing I had to a friend. What would Damien have done with her? Sold her?

  “What’s wrong?” Cherry stopped, staring at me. I shook myself.

  “Nothing.” I looked down at my half-soaked clothes, the frock clinging to my chest and legs. “We’re drenched.” I chuckled, some of my mood lifting again.

  “So? You won’t melt.” Cherry took up her full container and screwed the cap on.

  “I won’t at that.” I closed my own container.

  “What are you two doing in here? That water’s not for playing.” A deep male voice spoke from the entrance of the tunnel.

  We both spun around. Crank, one of Bear’s friends, stood in the glare of sunlight from the outside. I recognized the tattoo of a crow on the side of his neck.

  “Sorry, Crank. We’re going.” Cherry took the backpack off, then set her container inside before putting the backpack on again. Then she set the other container in the basket on top of the remaining bag there and handed me the basket to carry once more. “One more stop to make. Let’s go.”

  Crank watched us with a scowl until we’d come out onto the walkway where he stood. He gave us a disapproving shake of his head. “Women. So immature.”

  Cherry tugged hard on my arm, and we started down the walk. When we were far enough from Crank, she glanced at me. We shared a giggle.

  “Is the water for you?” I asked when our laughter settled. “It’s a long walk back to your place with these heavy containers.”

  She didn’t answer, instead leading me to the small common room where I’d had breakfast in the mornings. The room was full, unlike when I’d been here before, men eating and playing cards, talking, one or two drinking at the bar.

  Cherry waved me over to the back room where that set of swinging doors Crash had come through the other day stood. Like before, men’s voices rang out from within.

  “Are we allowed back here?” I asked as Cherry pushed open the doors and walked into a busy kitchen area that was almost as big as the common room.

  “We won’t be long.”

  That wasn’t a no. I glanced around nervously, but none of the men stopped us. One or two gave us a scowl, but when they saw Cherry, they went back to chopping up meat, washing up the dishes, or cleaning off the work spaces.

  At the back of the room near a large stove, she tapped the cook’s wide shoulder with her finger. He turned.

  The big, blocky cook put down his spoon and gave her a ready smile. “Cherry. Here.” He took a tray off a counter near him and handed it to her.

  I looked at the assortment of food on the tray. Some sort of pale orange juice filled a glass beside a pitcher of tea. A plate covered most of the tray, laden with two biscuits, and a slab of meat with onions and mushrooms lathered on it. There was also a bowl filled with slices of some kind of red fruit.

  “Crash is on break. If you come back in a half hour, he’ll be here.”

  Cherry’s eyes lowered, and her face went the most fascinating shade of scarlet, almost matching her hair. She said nothing, and the cook chuckled.

  Voices made me turn my head to the back of the room where two delivery men pushed through a door carrying large crates of food. Two guardsmen followed them. The men set the crates down and left, the guardsmen following them out.

  I scrunched my brows. Guards for food? Having seen the mines, now I understood why the Grotto had so many guards, but why would the delivery men have a protection detail?

  “Tell Mac to eat the binacca fruit this time,” the cook said, drawing my attention back to him and Cherry. “It’s good for him, but it’s expensive. I hate throwing it out.”

  “
Well, you know him. Getting him to eat anything that isn’t meat is like pulling teeth. Thanks, Baker.”

  “Sure. I’ll tell Crash hello for you.”

  “Whatever. See you.”

  Once we’d left the common room, I cleared my throat. “So, you and Crash, huh?” I mirrored the nosy tone she’d used with me at the bath.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She wouldn’t look at me as we walked. I decided to go easy on her and changed the subject.

  “What’s with the guard detail back there in the kitchen? This place always has so many guards.”

  “Sheriff’s paranoid,” she muttered, leaning close. “He doesn’t like outsiders, and he’s always been protective of the Grotto.” She glanced around covertly as we passed one of Hawk’s guardsmen. “Besides, have you heard what’s been going on with some of the gem deliveries?”

  “Yeah. Someone’s swapping gems out for worthless glass. I saw Steel looking into one of the thefts today.”

  She nodded and stopped at an entrance to a tunnel off the walkway where the path turned a corner toward the slave quarters. I could see the laundering pool at the bottom of the basin below us.

  “In here,” Cherry said, leading me into the tunnel.

  The entrance to the tunnel had two torches mounted on the wall, one on each side of the entrance, and only one of them was burning. Cherry rang a small bell above the entrance, then took the burning torch, using it to light the other. The fire cast the long tunnel and the living quarters at the end of it in a soft glow.

  Halfway down the tunnel, I noticed the entrance to a cavern. Torches on the walls within revealed a well with a purifying wheel for the water, but there was construction around the well, suggesting it was in the process of being built. The end of the hallway let out into a largish kitchen and eating area with a round dining table for four, and shelves on every wall with every manner of things from dishes to books and tools. Across the other side of the room, I could see what looked like a bedroom with part of a bed visible. Just as we entered, a man limped out of the bedroom and shut the door with one hand. His other arm ended in a silvery hook.