by Owner
“Sit.” He told Bess.
They formed a small circle, Mack and Var and the three females.
Bess stared into the fire.
Var began eating and handed a piece of fowl to her.
She held it, but made no move to eat it.
Mack frowned. “What happened to her?”
“Perhaps you can get her to say,” Var said, taking another bite while he looked over Mack’s travel companions.
Mack, reclined to prop against a rock with one elbow. He nodded toward the two women. “They are called Amage and Myra.”
Var noted their elaborate slave markings and heavily decorated eyes. The women giggled and whispered to each other while casting glances at him and Mack.
“They asked me to buy them, and are relieved that I did,” Mack continued in the old language. “I thought it might help. They will be looking for one female and a warlord, not two warlords and three females. Did you have any more problems?” He nodded toward Bess.
“She tried to run when I left the cave to check the perimeter and the horses. I found her just before the skas did any permanent damage.”
“Is that how she got the bruise on her face?”
Var nodded.
“Any other trouble?” Mack frowned, watching the MX stare vacantly into the fire as she had done since they arrived.
“She has been like this since I told her the Facility closed,” Var said.
Mack frowned. “She had to have known.”
Var shook his head. “Evidently, she was already here when they closed the Facility and began killing empaths.”
“She did not know the empaths were being hunted and killed?”
“No matter how bad it was for them at the Facility, it was all she has ever known.”
“The females need rest,” Mack said.
The warlords secured the campsite, made sure the females were safe in the tents, and sat by the fire.
In a low voice, Var told Mack about the stop at Eric’s ranch, the stampede, and the knife incident.
Mack raised an eyebrow. “She attempted to harm you?”
“I think she wanted to hurt herself.”
“If she does something like that around others...” Mack shook his head, as if he was at a loss for words. “Did your punishment break her spirit?”
“I did not punish her.”
Mack’s sharp look turned into a frown.
“She did not know how serious it is to touch a warlord’s weapon. She broke before that. I felt her pain at losing the other empaths.”
Mack considered that a moment. “She must have been away from the Facility longer than we thought.”
Var gave a small nod.
Mack was quiet for a moment, as if he had to work to take in this information.
“She is in a foreign land, hunted by all. Then you told her everyone and everything she knew is gone. As bad as the Facility was, she probably always thought she would return there. The empaths have little life experience. I can understand how that could break her.”
“It was more than that. For some reason, she thinks it is her fault the Conglomerate shut down the Facility.”
“Guilt is a heavy burden to bear, but that makes no sense.”
Var hardened his face into a mask. “Guilt is harsh whether it is deserved or not.”
Chapter 24
Bess screamed until a calloused hand covered her mouth. A deep voice assured her she was alright. Disoriented, she strained to remember where she was, why she was here and who held her down. The nightmare had been vivid. She hoped it was just a dream. Bess thought it was one of those that would haunt her all day. The feeling of it was heavy on her.
In the harsh light of the new day, it all came rushing back. Dreams that raked her soul and haunted her spirit clung to her like the smell of smoke. There would be no peace for her.
Var was hard to read. She had made a costly mistake. The guilt rose up and threatened to smother her again.
All she had achieved from the attempt to get his knife was his anger and a bruise on her jaw from his forearm. The fierceness that had flashed out at her made her cringe even now. If he hadn’t turned his arm, those sharp hooks on the outside of his sleeve would have done serious damage to her.
The Facility closed. All the buying and selling and people chasing her made more sense now. She should have suspected something. But closing the Facility, no one could have foreseen that, except some of them had dreamed of the possibility.
Var was a slave trader and although he had not hurt her on purpose, he was planning to turn her over to the STS who would kill her.
Perhaps she could just starve herself to death. No, that was ridiculous. Anger and frustration ate at her. She couldn’t even come up with a good plan.
He gestured and she crawled out of the tent with him right behind her. The morning air felt chilly.
Mack was up, tending to the fire. The other women emerged from their tent and went to the fire seeking warmth.
Bess stood with the camp to her back and gazed at the rolling terrain that stretched as far as she could see from the hilltop. The valley appeared much different in the morning sunlight. She felt the emotions that rolled off the two females. They were not her friends. Bess made a conscious effort to keep the block against them in place. She had never learned to interact with people and she did not plan to be around any of these people much longer.
The presence of the two women was not a good sign. Var was a slaver. Why else would he and Mack have the pleasure slaves? She had so hoped the warlords would save her.
No wonder the women were so unfriendly. They had been sold and bought and she was sick with the thought of Var doing that.
She felt him approaching and flinched. He handed her a bowl.
He froze and several seconds passed before he admonished her, “Sit. Eat.”
Anger flashed over Bess. “I am not an animal to obey your one word commands.”
Var stopped, eyes narrowed, head tilted slightly, the bowl midway to her. The prospect of a beating ran through her mind. Only then did she notice the two women were staring at her with their mouths open. Apparently, everyone obeyed the giant barbarian’s one word commands. They might have accepted being slaves, but she would not. Never.
Of course, she was probably not going to live long enough for it to make a difference.
Bess heard Mack give a short laugh, but she dared not take her eyes off Var. He continued toward her, his movements slow and deliberate. When he invaded her space, she took a step back. He stepped closer still. She took another step back and then another and then her feet tangled on something causing her to fall and land on her rear end. Bess could not prevent the yelp of pain and surprise when she hit the ground. She looked. A stick! She had tripped over a stupid stick.
The big barbarian’s face was devoid of expression. He was slow to lean over her and deliberate when he handed her the bowl. “Sit. Eat.”
Mack snorted with laughter. A quick glance at the women told her they expected her imminent death. Var moved to the tent and began taking it down. The insolence on his too beautiful face caused her frustration to boil over. Hot tears filled her eyes, but she wiped them away before anyone saw.
“I will force feed you.” Var tossed over his shoulder as he dismantled the tent.
Bess looked at the fruit. She reminded herself that she needed her strength and refusing to eat was not a viable option. The big demon barbarian had not hesitated to humiliate her before. A man who dealt in slaves would surely have no qualms about doing it again.
Even though she hated to do something he’d ordered her to do, she sat with her back to the other campers, dusted her hands together, and ate. Bess felt his eyes on her, but she refused to look in Var’s direction. She ate as much as she could, but her stomach threatened to bring it back up.
When they were ready to continue their journey, Var pulled her up on the horse in front of him. Amage and Myra each rode their own horse.
&
nbsp; The sun beat down and Bess settled in for a long hot ride. Being so close to Var and enveloped in his scent, left her weak. His muscled arms caged her body as he held the reins. She studied his hands. He had big, calloused hands, well formed, and strong. Actually, everything about Var was beautiful. At least, all she had seen.
He was a hard man. She had studied him while he wasn’t looking. He had a place on his neck that appeared soft. She’d dreamed of kissing that spot. In her dreams, she imagined his hands on her, not harshly, but holding her close. That would feel so good, his big hands on her. She wanted to run her hands through his hair and touch his skin, his golden skin, so smooth where there were no scars. She moaned just before she jerked awake.
Bess sat up straighter as heat flooded her face. Mack laughed. She didn’t think he even tried to hide his amusement. Var’s rigid body behind her told her all she needed to know. She’d dozed off. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples sensitive. She tried to move forward. Var pulled her back, his arm tight under her breasts. It must be the sun that caused her to doze off. She remembered feeling warm and safe. Safe? Yes, she really needed to keep her wits about her. There was no safety with the big barbarian. It must be the sun. She probably had that thing, “Captive Syndrome.” She’d read about it. Sometimes captives began to identify with their captors.
How could she want to be closer to him? He was cold, hard, a killer and a slave trader. Yet her blood heated at the thought of him and things happened — her body changed and she felt as if she could melt when she was close to him even though she hated herself for having such feelings about a man who had no qualms about trading in human lives. She could not tolerate these feelings she had for Var. How would she stop them?
Mack and Var spoke in the language she did not understand before Mack rode on ahead of them. She’d been so absorbed in her own thoughts, she almost missed that Mack left their group.
Their path was through rolling hills today. The trail was easy enough to follow, but left them without shelter from trees most of the day.
They finally stopped for a rest in a small cove of trees by a stream. Bess waded into the stream with Amage and Myra where they refreshed themselves with cool water. Bess noted that the other two women had slave tattoos on their faces, and small jewels adorned their eyelids and the corners of their eyes. She hoped no one did that to her. The wrist tattoos were bad enough. Var had promised they were not permanent. Bess wondered if she would live long enough for the marks to fade.
When they finished washing, they moved under the trees and sat on the cool grass.
Bess felt the curiosity and dislike from the two women and reinforced her shields against their emotions.
“I am Amage,” the shorter woman said. “This is Myra.”
“I am called Bess.” She wanted to ask them about their predicament, but decided silence might serve her better.
“Why are you so special that you get to ride with the warlord?” Myra, the woman with the hard eyes, asked.
The word ‘warlord’ sounded like a divine title when Myra spoke it.
“Do you understand our language?” Myra asked.
“I have no answer,” Bess said with a shrug.
Myra turned to look at Var, then spoke. “The scarred one watches you closely, even now. I think he must like pain to have so many scars.”
“I tried to escape, perhaps that is the reason,” Bess said.
“Escape?” Amage frowned and pulled her lips up at the corners. Bess was not fooled. That was no smile. “How foolish. Why did you do that?”
Bess shrugged.
“It must be the green eyes,” Myra said.
Amage ignored Myra’s comment. “He is a Kryst Warlord. No one escapes from them.”
Myra watched the warlord as he walked the horses to the stream.
“How can you know he is a Kryst Warlord?” Bess asked.
“That silver band on his left arm, they wear those to cover the mark they all have while they are among other societies.”
“If we are good and impress them, they might keep us instead of selling us to a pleasure house.” Myra added. She looked first at Amage, then at Bess with narrowed eyes. “And he will be mine so you scrubs keep your hands off of him.”
Amage smiled. “Oh, I will take the other one. From what I have heard, they choose who they want and they are not easily swayed by female charms. And Myra, your charms are a bit – used.”
Myra’s fingers curled into claws as she sputtered an insult.
Amage laughed, “He returns and your face is splotchy red.”
“The other one is gone,” Myra gritted out.
“You are hateful,” Amage said. “He will be back.”
Bess turned away from the women. Their emotions were unpleasant, but they did not cause her pain. She was so much stronger now and she had blocked them almost immediately. Besides, her soul was wrapped in layers of cotton. It was better to stay closed off. She shuddered at a horrific memory. There had been so many of those recently.
Var arrived with two canteens filled with fresh, cool water from the stream. He handed one to Bess and the other to Myra who wasted no time batting her eyes at him and smiling. She reached her hand around his calf and pulled her upper body to touch his leg. Bess knew what that meant. Myra was offering herself to him. Her heart sank and she jerked her gaze away as fast as she could. She had no right to be upset with Var if he took advantage of Myra’s offer.
Var regarded Myra sitting on the ground. His face and eyes were hard, as if no emotion at all lived within him. “Do not touch me without permission, girl.”
Myra pulled her hand back and moved to her knees. “I meant no offense, Master. I just wanted to express my gratitude for how well you treat us. May I touch you, Master?”
“Do not call me ‘Master’. You may call me Warlord Var.” Var moved away to water the pack horses.
Bess felt Myra’s anger at being rebuffed by Var. The scene she’d just witnessed should not have upset her, but jealousy ran hot through her. And now that she had proof Var and Mack were slavers, Bess had to deal with the self-loathing that filled her. She tried to keep her mind busy, or else grief and despair along with her inappropriate thoughts would choke her.
On the slave line, the men had been cruel and the women had been too fearful to do anything except submit to the slavers. If a gripper wanted a woman, he simply took her and the woman dared not fight back against him. Still, Bess had seen some women offering themselves to the slavers by touching their legs.
Amage whispered to Bess. “You do not know the rules, do you? Touching a warlord, any warrior, can result in harsh punishment. Myra got lucky. We will probably be sold as sex slaves. Myra tries to get the warlord to take her for his own, but she plays a dangerous game.”
Myra hissed at Amage, but she continued speaking. “I have seen female slaves whipped for touching without permission. She seeks to serve only him and his friends rather than be sold to a house of pleasure where she will have to serve all who want her.”
Bess made herself pay attention. Her mind had wandered while Amage chattered on about how bad the warlords were.
Evidently, Var had been truthful when he told her touching a warlord was a punishable offense. He had not been truthful when telling her that he was not a gripper. These people were savages and she had no idea the things they were capable of doing.
“You can never touch a warlord without permission.” Amage continued. “Everybody knows this. Myra should know it.” She sighed and managed to make it sound angry. “The Warlords of Kryst do not have enough women for years now. They travel around to the different societies and purchase women to take back to their own people. If they tire of them before they get home, they sell them to pleasure houses.”
“They need breeding stock,” Amage added.
Breeding stock! Bess wondered how she could make Myra and Amage shut up. The women’s emotions and words swarmed her like angry bees. She didn’t believe them. They were going t
o a lot of trouble to make Var sound like the worst person ever, but even though something about their accusations rang false to her, she feared some of what they said was true.
Var returned. “Mount up,” he said.
Myra giggled and pretended to need help getting on her horse. Amage mounted her horse without his aide.
“You are experienced with horses,” Var said to Amage.
Myra glared when Amage gave Var her sweetest smile. “Yes, Warlord Master, I have many talents.”
Var mounted his horse and reached down to pull Bess up in front of him.
“Why does she get to ride with you?” Myra asked, her mouth fixed in a pout.
Var did not answer, but walked his horse away. Myra scrambled on her mount and she and Amage followed on their horses with the pack animal on a lead rope behind them.
They rode in silence and Bess had time to think. She was responsible for the Facility being closed and the deaths of the empaths. Only a weak person would hide and she had been hiding for two days. Bess had to face reality and figure out what she could do to help the other empaths. And she had to forget about her feelings for Var.
***
When the sun was low in the sky, they entered a grove of trees. The coolness felt good after a full day of sun. Bess was surprised to see Mack already there with a fire going. He had killed and cleaned some small animals and was putting them on spits over the fire.
Myra and Amage moved to the fire to help. Bess stood nearby.
Var was busy setting up the tents.
“Why do you get to ride with the scarred one?” Myra asked.
Bess did not answer.
“You are puny. Has he taken you to mate?” Myra continued.
“I do not mate,” Bess said.
Myra laughed, “Girl, you have no choice. He has bought you and he will do whatever he wants with you. He can mate with you or sell you or kill you.”
“Most likely he will put you to work in a pleasure house,” Amage said.
Mack spoke sternly, “Warlord Var does what he will, but he means no harm to any of you.”