In that pivotal moment, he made a plan.
Two sides to the bargain he’d made with himself.
He’d get himself beyond and above slavery; he’d pry her loose from these foul idiots.
They had unfinished business. He’d saved her life after she’d threatened to have him castrated. She was his, for better or for worse. Probably for worse.
Mightn’t be much left of her, if these three had their way. They’d break her like a twig. Step up or back up.
“Hoy! You should wait for your leader to decide what to do with her.”
Wasn’t a question. Questions made you look weak.
Their laughter and insults ebbed.
One of the two men not playing with her turned his attention to Sawyer – the dark skinned, lean one in the weathered gray clothes, the man with the knife-sharp nose. The blond fuzz on his scalp looked incongruous with his dark skin. “Name’s Dayne. Keep your tongue still, slave, or we’ll feed you to something with teeth.” Then he smiled, showing his own teeth.
Sawyer stared back. Interfering hadn’t been wise, but it’d needed doing.
Chapter 2
The words from the human didn’t stop the Scav from molesting her.
Helplessness escalated into panic. Panic led to that feeling Ari knew well – the brain melt she had whenever men tried to handle her. That roving trader had tried when she’d been young, naïve, and bait for men to maul. She wasn’t young or naïve anymore.
She’d put a knife in him, made him stop, and ever since then in times like this...
The crushing feeling in her head, the squeaky fluttery feel in her chest and stomach, they rose and rose to spilling point, to headache level. Gods, it hurt. Was going to be a big one.
Rose, to this.
A wave of muttering dark crashed outward. Dark only in her head, not to him, he wouldn’t see.
He’d feel.
The man behind her stilled and let out a grunt. His erection, that’d been grinding into her ass, softened and went away a second later. He lowered her to her feet. The other two looked puzzled. Man one behind her, the main asswipe, was in the process of extricating his hand from her pants when a female warrior rode up on one of the eight-legged creatures called jaggs. Its antler-ish head ornaments twitched and curled then it curved its neck, bending to chew at one of its legs.
The woman slid off the jagg with long gun in hand, planting the gun on the ground with an audible thump. Her fair hair was short, tangled, and threaded with silver wire. A scar bunched the skin atop one shoulder. Swirls of gold and azure decorated most of the metal surfacing the gun. The weapon was clearly her favorite. Years of meditation would’ve brought out that fanciness.
The guns she’d adjusted, handled, and tested for Uncle were bland and generic. Selling guns to the Scavs...so ironic and so tragic. She’d always thought it might come back and bite Uncle on the ass. Instead, she was paying the price.
“Leave her be, Roka. You know Zarr wouldn’t like it. We share at camp. Not before.”
The man behind Ari reached around to wipe his pants-invading hand on the front of Ari’s shirt, and she grimaced.
“We were only checking her assets. Nothing more, Keera.”
“Sure you were. Get her over there and collared, cuffed.” She jerked her chin to the left, swept another gaze over the situation then walked away with her jagg following.
Keera. A strong name. She envied her. Wished she was her, in a way, then these assheads wouldn’t be using her as if she were a toy. A woman commanding men. Even knowing this was how Scavs did things had never made this seem common.
Uncle would’ve been horrified.
Uncle had left her to be captured by this warband of idiots while he’d gone off to do business deals. Didn’t they know Osta would skin them for violating his agreement? She’d seen him shake hands with Uncle herself. Now he was a big man with a big reputation. She’d actually been impressed.
“She’s ugly anyhow, Roka,” said the dark-skinned, blond-haired one.
She almost shot him a dirty look but stopped herself. She shouldn’t care what they said about her. It was good if no one liked her or found her pretty. Where the Scav’s fingers had been felt violated, filthy.
“Yeah. Truth. Not sure what I was doing. Wouldn’t fuck her if I was paid.” Roka gave her a shove between the shoulder blades with his meaty hand. She stumbled toward the small crowd of other grounders and slaves. Only when she drew near did she realize all of them were slaves. They’d killed every other free man or woman. Drivers, guards, everyone.
Trouble. No one killed like this and didn’t stir up trouble.
That they were going to be in trouble in the future didn’t help her now.
The footsteps and shadow from the human prowling beside her made her recall his actions. He’d tried to stop Roka. He’d gone from menacing her to trying to help her? Sawyer, her guards had called him. Her dead guards. Wrenched back to when blood and brains had splashed on her, Ari gulped down bitterness.
She could smell the sweetness of blood drying in the sun.
If she didn’t get out of here soon, no matter her reaction that made men detest her, she was going to be no better than dog food, or a whore, or a body on the ground.
One stray thought kept repeating itself – the human helped her. Why?
Even as she’d given the order to castrate him she’d despised herself a little. Slaves were people, but it was easy to forget that. Always too easy. He scared her; she reacted. And what did this matter now?
“In.” Someone pulled her into line.
The line led to three men. They checked each slave then sent them into one of two groups. Scavs kept slaves, just not many. They moved about too frequently to want baggage – or so she’d heard was the reason. One group would get sold to grounders in another town. Once made a slave, getting yourself free again was a matter of ransom by relatives within a few months, or you stayed a slave forever. The system ate you up.
Surely Uncle would buy her free? She needed to be in the right line. Would they keep the pretty ones and the strong ones? That must be how it worked.
“What are they doing?” Sawyer murmured to her from behind and above.
No longer her nemesis. She stifled her first, fearful impulse. He’d gone from bad man to a man who’d tried to save her from rape.
“They’ll sell one group to grounders in another town; the others will become their slaves here. Are you aiming to choose which?”
He grunted – a deep masculine sound you might hear from an animal, and it made her aware of his bulk. No guards were here to come between them, and even if he seemed placid, a man like this unsettled her. She mustn’t get too familiar. She’d be gone soon if she kept herself focused.
“Maybe. Which though?”
Helping him might get him to help her. “They want workers and...” She felt wrong saying this. “...the pretty women to stay here?” she speculated quietly.
“You then.”
What? Her brow screwed up. “No. Not me.”
Where was this heading?
He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Sure of that?”
When she glanced over her shoulder at him, a ripple of darkness peeled loose from inside her mind. Unpredictable thing, she could never tell when it would occur, but it flattened the intensity in his eyes, the lust, and his hand slid away. Thank the gods. All men saw were body parts to fuck.
His eyes sharpened. “What did you do?”
Ari flinched and turned to stare at the front of the line.
She was next.
“I felt something, and I did that last time too.”
“What last time?” He couldn’t have. No man had ever said this to her. She pinched her lips.
“You know,” he drawled. “You do know. I haven’t forgotten that you aimed to cut off my balls. Not the best start to our relationship. A man never forgets something like that.”
Flustered, she almost missed the question from the
man interrogating the potential slaves.
“Who are you? First name? Not a slave?”
Ari swallowed past the tenseness in her throat, shook her head. “No. I’m related to the owner of this caravan. I’m Aribelle Oct.”
He smacked her cheek lightly with his gloved fingers. The unexpected blow shocked her dumb.
How dare he?
Anyone could dare. Everything had changed.
“No. First name. I need that now, don’t care what you were, except if you can make a good bed whore, a good laborer, or if you will fetch a higher price with the grounders.”
Her mouth stuck open for a few seconds before she rattled out an answer. “I...I’m Aribelle. I’m a class five physician.” She shouldn’t have said that. Lowest class of all but maybe he didn’t know. “And I’m worth a ransom, if my uncle pays.”
“If...” he muttered. “Okay. Go –”
Sawyer stepped up and spoke. “Keep her. Zarr promised her to me. He said to collar and bind her.”
Confused, thoughts swirling, wondering why he’d said this – she didn’t blurt the protest she needed to before the Scav replied.
“What? You’re a brazen slave. Am I supposed to be blind? I can see your shackles, your collar.”
Sawyer stepped closer. “Zarr said I’m going to teach you to fight.” He slammed a hand onto her ass, grabbing hold with a clawed grip. As he talked, his fingers delved upward where the seam of her pants went between her legs. She had clothes on, and his fingers couldn’t actually go anywhere, not really. Nevertheless, she felt the heat of a blush. When she plucked at his hand, he calmly fended her off then held her wrist. “She’s to be mine. My payment.”
“Let go,” she spat.
They’d laugh and beat him, wouldn’t they?
She had that partly correct. Her interrogator laughed until the knife and handgun at his waist bounced, his blond braid jiggled in the sunlight, and his face went red. “You are lucky we need to move on. I won’t flog you for disrespect. I will ask Zarr when we stop. He will beat you. Go to that group.” He nodded at one group of slaves then swung to Ari. “You can go there too. If you’re lucky, Zarr will let you be ransomed.”
Sawyer strolled away, nonchalant as a man going for a pleasant walk. He’d wrecked her entire spiel, her plan, but only temporarily. Seething, she followed him, eyeing his broad, naked back – he’d pulled off the generic slave shirt – and wondered if stabbing him with a knife snatched from a Scav would be considered a bad thing.
He’d sacrificed himself to this Zarr’s discipline to get revenge on her. Fool. Once the Scavs dealt with him, she would reason with Zarr.
She found a spot between two female slaves, some distance from where Sawyer had halted, and tried to look small and not worth bothering with, but there were only six of them being kept so far. He’d made her stand out from the rest like a beacon.
Ari hung her head, staring unfocused at the ground between her boots, struggling with the trembling that wanted to overtake her. Slaves to either side were muttering insults, threatening to hurt her if they got their chance. All was said so quietly the Scavs couldn’t have heard.
She already stood out. She was the owner’s niece. Sawyer had only drawn more arrows pointing her way.
A new stench penetrated through the smell of old blood on her shirt – urine. His. Ari scowled, her nose wrinkling. She fueled her anger. Being angry was better than being afraid. He’d ruined her chance to be freed quickly, and she knew why. Not desire for her – hate.
He had his reason for that. Maybe she deserved this.
“What are you thinking?” Sawyer said from close behind her.
Fear knifed her. She refrained from spinning around. “Go away! What am I thinking? That I wish my order to de-ball you had been carried out before this happened.” She gestured erratically at their surroundings. “Then you wouldn’t be annoying me!”
“And I’m thinking how strange it is that when I first saw you, you were the hottest woman I’d seen for months. Tight ass, nice tits under that plain shirt...”
A blush burned her cheeks, but she pretended to be stoic. If she hit him, the guards might take it amiss.
“I would’ve fucked you in an instant. Then, nothing. Those Scavs melted like ice cream in the sun. What do you do to the men who want to fuck you? Should I add you to my list of the strange things on this world?”
If she glared enough, perhaps he’d melt.
“Here. What’s this?” Before she could duck away, he held her face in one hand while he dragged his other hand’s thumb down the side of her face. “Grease? I wondered what that was, when I saw you earlier.”
Such casual appropriation of her body. She hated that.
She wriggled loose and stayed mute, backing up a step.
A smile kinked the corner of his mouth. “Talkative bitch. I’m not surprised. This whole situation must be one helluva fucking shock to you.”
She watched as he retreated and submerged himself in this small group. Eight of them now. Someone had stopped beside her. A Scav.
It was the lean man with the liking for gray clothes – Dayne. Dark skin, dark eyes, intelligence showed in there too.
“That human makes you blush so hot. I could see the red on your face from over there.” He jerked his head sideways. “How does a woman like you get a man like that so interested?”
A man like what? A dick on legs? She’d have spat on him, if she’d had the courage.
Whatever Dayne was insinuating, she didn’t like it. Men. They all had stupid questions.
His eyebrows danced when she didn’t reply. “Don’t worry. I’ll find out. Lift your chin.”
He held a battered leather collar.
Oh. That was for her.
Jaw clenched, she held her head high, pretending to stare at the clouds while he busied himself fastening the collar around her neck and locking it.
The man grunted in satisfaction then hooked a small key on his belt, but he didn’t move away.
Ari stayed silent. After some time studying her, with his fingers tapping the butt of his waist gun – a weapon as long as his forearm – Dayne walked away.
She had a collar on her neck. This was not right. She wanted to reach up and unlock it, but fingers alone couldn’t do that. Though she fidgeted, she kept her hands down. They hadn’t cuffed her.
These were the least of her worries.
Sawyer was trying to disturb her, maybe worse, but she’d outsmart him. He was still in chains. Scavs liked their money, and ransoming her would tempt them greatly.
Survive a day or two, or three, and I will be free.
She must remember that when these men stared at her. Soon she’d be back with Uncle, at home, working on the machines and the vehicles. Engines never made her feel uncomfortable.
She’d put her foot down and insist on not treating the slaves for their ailments. The man was so cheap. He could afford a better accredited physician. She could barely fix a cut finger. That way she could avoid the caravans and the slaves entirely. Life would be good.
Her situation had to improve – it could hardly get worse. She found herself chewing her lip and stopped herself.
The bulk of the slaves from the caravan were loaded into Uncle’s vehicles and driven away – heading for a new town, she guessed. They’d be sold. That was where she should have been, even if they were stuck in there breathing each other’s spit. Her heart crawled with dread. She’d missed the main opportunity to be ransomed. Might be a while before they did that again.
Might not be too. She must keep on hoping.
Chapter 3
When they began to herd slaves from his little group into a vehicle, one captured from the caravan, Sawyer waited until he was the only person left outside. He eyed the Scavs – two of them, and one of them was that Dayne. Good or bad, he didn’t know, didn’t care.
He’d ask, they could only say no. He figured the Scavs were a warrior race who’d appreciate a man’s need for free
dom. They didn’t seem as likely to swat you as the grounders, who’d always been nervous of any hint of rebellion.
“I’d like to travel up there.” He indicated the roof of the gray vehicle. “I’ve been stuck inside one of these for many months, off and on. Chain me up there if you want but I need to feel the breeze against my skin.”
Dayne looked at the roof then at him again, blond eyebrows waggling. “Up there? We’re traveling through the night. If I chain you and you fall, you’ll get dragged, die maybe. Getting pulled through the dirt will grind away flesh. Not pretty.”
Night was indeed coming. The trees were casting long, blue shadows. They mightn’t have owls here, but there were other birds and these gorgeous bugs with translucent wings that shone like glass. They were night dwellers, and once, he’d seen them drifting across the double moons.
Beautiful. A light show of fragile opalescence sifted by moonlight. It’d made his chest ache for home, for Earth.
Need hooked at him, to breathe free air.
“I’ll take that chance.” He cleared his throat, held up his wrists. “I’ll want some help to get up there.”
“Bold. You are bold.” Dayne studied him. “I like that.”
“Mind telling me where we’re going?”
“To the base that used to belong to a Scav commander called Osta. Near a town called Traggo. It’s ours now.”
“Fun place?”
“Sure.” Dayne smiled. The man was full of smiles. He cocked his head and looked down the length of his strong nose at Sawyer, aiming as if it might’ve been a gunsight. “Might not be fun for you. Take care up there.” He raised his eyebrows toward the roof.
“Will do.”
“Wait.” Dayne jogged away for a minute then returned with a faded red blanket in hand. “Off the back of a jagg so it’ll smell but...” He shrugged and tossed it to Sawyer.
“Thanks.” The kindness baffled him.
Just a man being nice to a stranger. It shouldn’t be so astounding. This world was screwing with his normals. Sawyer squashed his fist around the scratchy cloth. If someone offered him a cup of coffee he’d likely want to shoot them.
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