Sanctum: Saving Setora (Book Two) (Dark Dystopian Reverse Harem MC Romance)

by Raven Dark

  How long I’d been sitting there waiting, I didn’t know, but when the door squealed open, I lifted my head, expecting the guard from earlier to step into the room.

  Instead, a larger man with broad shoulders and a moleskin coat stepped in and nodded to me. “Vol Talak is here. I am Ivek, his Second. Get up.”

  Heart speeding up, I stood and walked over to him, allowing a quick assessment. Bare-chested under the open coat and darkly tanned, handsome in a brutish way, he had a cluster of four stars tattooed in black ink on his left pec, and he wore three small, ermine pelts on his hip, money purses I guessed. His long, thick hair, twisted into many thin braids, was pulled into a leather band at his nape. With those harsh features and ice-blue eyes, I could see women fawning over him.

  Ivek led me out into the hall, and I tried not to think about the last time I’d seen Talak. He’d given me a leering, hungry look that made me wish the floor of Damien’s garden would’ve swallow me up, his smile full of yellowed teeth. My stomach clenched at the memory.

  “We’ll be leaving port shortly. He wants to see his prized queen before we disembark,” Ivek said as he shut the door to the room, his thick accent giving the words a harsh sound.

  For a moment, I thought I saw pity in his eyes before he locked the door to the room and led me down the hall.

  I hated that my body shook. Hand on my shoulder, Ivek walked me down a series of corridors lit with torch fire, the stone halls of the ship hanger they’d taken me to earlier in the day.

  In minutes, we arrived at the small harbormaster’s office. Overstuffed bookshelves lined the walls, and papers covered the desk and table, maps, ledgers, sign-in sheets.

  Eyes on a window that took up the back wall and looked out onto a ship called Sparrow, Talak stood behind a desk, his bare back to me, hands clasped behind him. When he turned, his yellow teeth flashed. The teeth on a necklace around his neck glinted like bleached bone in the torchlight from the walls.

  Privately, I strained my ears for any sound that offered hope, any way out, but I saw and heard none. My heart sank. There was no getting out of this.

  “Bring her here, Ivek.” He waved his Second in.

  Ivek walked me across the room to the desk, and when Talak nodded, my escort departed, the door clicking shut behind me.

  “I have you at last.” Talak skulked around the desk to me, nostrils flaring as if he was smelling me on the air itself. I caught a whiff of sour brandy, some sort of meat, and…Maker, was that blood? Pretty Boy had called Talak’s people cannibals. My insides clenched, and I tried not to look too closely at the teeth around his neck.

  “Did you think you escaped me, little violet-eyed one?”

  My lip almost curled. If only. “I didn’t leave my master’s mansion by choice, sir.”

  “Perhaps not, but you didn’t try to leave those who had you, either, did you?” He grabbed the back of my hair in his fist so sharply I almost cried out. His breath washed down my neck, sour with booze. “You won’t escape your fate. You’ll spend your nights satisfying my every need, and those of my men if I choose, won’t you?”

  There was a thud and the door to the room opened, slamming against the wall. Talak spun around, dragging me with him. Two of his warriors stood in the doorway, leather and pelts covering their large frames, the furry hoods some of the guardsmen wore over their faces, leaving only the eyes visible. One of them, a huge one almost as big as Steel, had a machete in his great fist.

  “You two, get out. I said I didn’t want to be dist—”

  The man beside the huge one raised a bow and fired a bolt at Talak. The Critian warlord released me and leaped over the desk just in yime. The bolt hit the wall behind where Talak had been standing.

  The man with the bow ran across the room, hooked his bow on his belt and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me to him, while the other man, the one who welded the machete, kicked a table at Talak and sent it across the room toward him. Talak rolled sideways and came up on his feet, taking up the mace hanging at his belt. He swung it in swift circles, the hundreds of wicked spikes aimed for his opponent’s head as his opponent followed him. The huge man he was fighting swung the machete at his head, taking off a hank of dark hair.

  What in Maker’s name was going on here? Thinking the men were J’nai disguised as Critians, I twisted and shoved at the warrior holding me.

  “What’s the matter, Princess, didn’t you miss your masters?”

  I froze, my gaze snagging on the gorgeous blue eyes of the man holding me to his powerful frame.

  Pretty Boy. Which meant the machete-wielding maniac with him had to be Steel.

  A heavy metallic clank made me turn in time to see Talak swiping at Steel with his mace, the spikes slamming into the desk and then the wall instead of Steel’s head.

  Steel bobbed and weaved like an expert. He punched Talak in the face and sent him crashing into the wall. But Talak quickly recovered and grabbed Steel, spun around, and slammed his head into the stone wall just as hard. Steel dropped, shook himself, and tried to get to his feet.

  “Steel…” Pretty Boy moved to go to him.

  “What’s going on here?” Ivek’s voice boomed.

  Pretty Boy turned so that I saw Talak’s Second standing in the doorway. Out in the hall behind him, Hawk fought sword to sword with two of Talak’s guardsmen, the double swords in his hands a blur of movement, his body spinning and dancing with a predatory grace.

  “These three Legion scum managed to escape your eye, Ivek,” Talak snarled. “Kill then now, and you’ll be lucky to keep your incompetent head.”

  Ivek withdrew a long, heavy-looking sword from the scabbard at his waist. Pretty Boy drew his own blade from the scabbard on his back and pushed me firmly behind him. Blades clashed and clanged.

  In the hall, the two guards dropped to the floor with two deft strokes of Hawk’s blades. A rush of adrenaline hit me, but he didn’t even seem to see me. He went straight for Talak. Hawk dodged a swing of that mace, but before I saw what happened next, the shouts of two new guards drew my attention to the door.

  Pretty Boy growled in frustration, dancing left and fighting with them. I expected Ivek to stab him through the back while Pretty Boy was forced to focus on the guards. Instead, Ivek went for Hawk whose back was turned as he fought with Talak.

  My heart leaped, and I was about to shout at Hawk to watch out. I didn’t get the chance. Two steps and Ivek drew a six-inch blade from his boot. While Hawk spun to deal with Ivek, Ivek threw the blade at Hawk’s head.

  Hawk bent at the last instant. The blade went wide and hit Talak, slamming right into the center of his forehead.

  Stunned, Hawk spun in time to see the leader of the Critian civilization drop like a chopped tree. Hawk stared at Ivek. Everyone else had stopped fighting and was staring at him, too.

  “Some crack warrior you are, you missed,” Hawk taunted.

  “No, I did not.”

  “Watch yourself, yellow-eyed warrior,” one of the Critian guards snapped.

  Pretty Boy looked between Ivek and the dead Critian leader. “What…what just happened?”

  I felt the same rush, looking between them, having a feeling I knew.

  As if to confirm what I thought, the two guards at the door dropped to one knee. Three more who chose that moment to show up in the doorway widened their eyes, then did the same.

  One of the guards, with more stars on his chest than the others, said, “All hail, the new Vol of Crite. Vol Ivek Tain.”

  “Whoa.” Pretty Boy said.

  Without batting an eye, Ivek walked over, yanked his blade out of his predecessor’s head, wiped it on his pelt, and rammed it home. He grabbed Steel’s arm, pulling him to his feet, looked over the back of his bleeding head with a satisfied nod, then looked at Pretty Boy.

  “Among men of Crite, the crown is lost or won less often by birth and more often at the end of a blade. You have nothing to fear from me and my men. You are free to go.” He clapped Steel on
the shoulder and Steel did the same to him, though slowly, and with a look of surprise. Then while Steel, Pretty Boy, and Hawk all moved to surround me, the new Vol of Crite turned to me.

  “I have never seen any group of men come to the rescue of a slave the way these ones did for you, Violet One. You must be a very special female. I think we will see great things from you.”

  Not knowing what to say to such a thing, I opened my mouth three times, only to close it. Women were never “special,” and coming from a warlord whose people were known for more barbarism than anywhere else, it seemed particularly ominous.

  “Well, this is a strange turn things have taken,” Pretty Boy said, sheathing his sword on his back. Hawk did the same with both of his. Concern for Steel pulled at me, but I knew better than to show it here.

  “Did your men touch her, cannibal?” Pretty Boy put his hand on the back of my neck, possessive.

  “Pretty Boy,” Hawk drawled.

  The guards, who had risen to their feet again, growled and moved toward Pretty Boy, but Ivek put up his palm and they halted. Amusement danced in those pale eyes.

  “I wasn’t present when my men took her from your people, pirate. But to my knowledge, she was not mistreated.” He looked at me.

  “I wasn’t, Masters.” I met each of their gazes in turn.

  Ivek turned to Hawk. “You are the one in charge, yes?”

  “I’m second to the General of the Dark Legion. When he’s not present, I act in his place.”

  Ivek took his hand in a firm shake, then slipped off one of the many signet rings that covered his fingers. He handed it to Hawk. “Should you or your…General…ever need me or my men, produce this to any known associate of Crite, and we will come to your aid.”

  I swallowed. In my studies of other nations, I’d learned only a little of Crite, but I did know that the Men of the North never, ever allied with outsiders, or those beyond their borders.

  As Hawk put the ring in the pocket of his pants and shook Ivek’s hand again, I had the strangest feeling something much more ominous than a new king had been created today. History had been made. I just wasn’t sure why.

  “We need be off in haste,” Ivek told his men and the guards saluted. “The J’nai men will arrive soon; we’ll need to not be here when they do.” Then he turned to me. “Even though I may not like Damien Vale, I must insist that something be done about his property. Technically, you belong to him. But I will give you two choices, assuming that you do not wish to be returned to him.”

  I looked at him and tried to see where this was going.

  “I’d like to take you with me back to Crite.” At the angry rebukes from my masters, he put up a hand. “You would be cared for, protected.” He touched my cheek, and Pretty Boy took a step closer to Vol Ivek. “Or,” The new Critian ruler continued, ignoring Pretty Boy’s advance. “You can leave with these men.”

  The man really was attractive, especially now, radiating such leadership and command. He wore authority as if it flowed in his veins, and the fact that he could say such things to me in front of the Dark Legion without a care to his safety only accentuated that.

  He went on. “If you come with me, I promise you will want for nothing. Only pleasure and contentment will rule your days and nights, ninesh.” The latter must have been an endearment. One that my Dark Legion Masters did not appreciate.

  “Enough of this, Vol Ivak,” Hawk barked. “We need to be on our way, as I am sure you and your people do.”

  I licked my lips. “Um. Vol Ivek…my Lord…Majesty…”

  His gaze turned to me again, hard, commanding. My cheeks burned, nervousness eating away at me. Ivek had shown a compassion I hadn’t seen in Talak, and he’d spoken to me as much more than a slave earlier, but was I overestimating his respect for me?

  Ivek shook his head at Hawk, putting up his hand again. His eyes were on me. “Speak.”

  “Um. What about the other slaves? The ones who were in the room with me?”

  A slight twitch touched the corner of his brutal mouth. “We are not like those of your lands, Violet One. Talak tried to modernize our ways, but I will undo his errors. The women will be treated well and taken care of. You need not worry for them, and I assure you that you will be cared for in the same way if you choose to come with us.”

  And there it was, my chance at having a say in my own destiny. The man before me, this powerful leader who would lead thousands of people in his faraway land, was giving me a gift like no one had before him. Whether he knew it or not didn’t matter.

  I was about to turn to my masters, but a wave of dizziness hit me, and I swayed. Steel grabbed me under the arms. My vision swam, producing two of him.

  “Petal. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know…I…” I shook my head, but it didn’t clear the fog.

  Pretty Boy looked over me, running his hand down the length of my hair. Hawk’s gaze finally settled on me, mouth turning down in concern.

  After everything that happened with them, it wasn’t that I had any doubt whether to go with them or Vol Ivek. But what would that be like, choosing my own destiny? I hadn’t had that luxury since I was a girl.

  But in Steel’s arms, surrounded by the men who’d claimed me as their own, who had come in here, fighting and killing for my release, facing off warriors who outnumbered them, I realized that I’d found myself exactly where I was meant to be.

  I had no idea if Ivek was right about me being special, or if these Dark Legion men felt such a way about me, but somehow, they were special to me.

  My choice was made.

  I might not have been back at the Grotto, but I was home.

  Chapter 3

  Killjoy

  In the end, Vol Ivek and his men headed home while we made our way toward ours. I was still reeling from the shock that my masters had come to rescue me as we rode back east, toward the other end of Zone 2. Talek was dead, and I was no longer being held prisoner.

  Pretty Boy held me in front of him on his bike, his strong arms caging me in place with my back to his wide chest. The light scruff on his chin tickled my cheek, a comfortable feeling.

  I’d expected them to ride back to the Grotto, but instead, they stopped at a small inn. The sign down the dirt road read Cannon Hill in the solar-powered headlights of their motorbikes. In the distance, the shapes of houses and a city dotted the horizon.

  The bikes stopped in the lot outside the inn, and the men cut the engines. Pretty Boy helped me off his motorbike. The feverish feeling was still there in full force, and I swayed. Big hands grabbed me by my waist, and I was hauled up into Steel’s arms.

  “Hawk, we need to get a room. Petal’s too sick to make it all the way back to the Grotto. She needs sleep.” Steel’s voice rumbled near my head.

  I heard my three masters enter the inn after Hawk told the other men to stay out of sight but within reach. The thought of sleep in cool sheets made me ache with want. I was definitely sick, then. I must have said so out loud, because Steel grunted.

  “You’re burning up, Petal. Did those bastards drug you with something?” He touched my cheeks and forehead.

  “No. They didn’t… I think it’s my back, Master. From the fire. The wound isn’t healing.” My voice cracked with dryness. As soon as I said the words, I felt the burning, hot tightness of the wound I’d ended up with when I saved Cherry. Was it only yesterday? Closing my eyes, I tucked my head under Steel’s chin.

  “Fuck, Petal. What the hell happened while we were gone this week?”

  How, I didn’t know, but I knew he didn’t expect an answer. I was just content to hear his voice.

  Finally, I felt cool air on my bare arms and feet. Steel moved forward and brought us into a bright light. The smell of fresh bread and mutton stew filled my nose. A harmony of voices and laughter grew louder as Steel kept walking.

  “We got a room ’til tomorrow afternoon, brother. A big one, private. I told them not to disturb us.” Pretty Boy’s voice sounded
strange. His usual lazy tone was absent. Instead, I heard the Dark Legion in his voice—strong and decisive. The contrast reminded how much I didn’t know about my masters.

  As we made our way up a flight of stairs, I thought about these men. My masters. Why had they come for me? And had I missed them? Yes, I had. All the time I’d spent with them, I felt like they all had a piece of me, something I never knew was missing until they presented it to me. I frowned, looking up at Steel, then winced at the dull ache pounding in my head.

  “Hawk, she’s burning up. She said she thinks it’s her back.”

  “What the fuck’s wrong with her back?” Pretty Boy asked, his tone the one I was used to once more. I smiled at its return.

  “We had a fire in the Grotto yesterday. She got hurt when she rescued Cherry,” Hawk said matter-of-factly.

  Steel cursed. Pretty Boy said something, but I couldn’t make it out.

  I felt another blast of cool air, but this time we entered a dimly lit room. It smelled like fresh linen and rest. I sighed. Wait, there was something I needed to tell them.

  I opened my eyes and looked at Pretty Boy who moved about the room, dimming the torchlight a little more. “Master, I need medicines. The wound needs tending to.”

  Steel gently set me down on a settee in the middle of the room.

  Immediately, Hawk knelt down in front of me and touched my face, his cool hand making me shiver so hard I almost fell sideways onto the floor.

  “Damn, she is burning up. What do you need, Kitten? Steel can get it from the proprietor.” He massaged my calf muscles and I shivered even more.

  “I…I…need tripsum oil and…newt…pow…powder,” I told him, my teeth chattering loudly.

  “On it, Hawk.” Steel turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Here, let’s take this frock off, Kitten.” Hawk’s gentle hands lifted my arms up and carefully slid the filthy material up over my head.

  I heard a metal scraping sound, followed by the sounds of water pouring into a vat. A bath?