Sex Slaves 03 Waiting for Dawn

by Lorie O'Clare

  While Zahn spoke, several servants had hurried around the table, pouring a blood-colored liquid into stone goblets in front of them. Zahn Corl picked up his goblet, holding it in front of him.

  “All of us drink. Give greeting to Dawn of Corl.” He nodded to the others sitting around the table and slowly each of them picked up their goblets.

  Dawn looked down the table at Trent. He had his goblet and slowly sipped from it. When she met his gaze over the stone cup she thought she saw a warning in his eyes.

  She sipped from her own cup, the liquid thick and sweet like a dessert. It didn’t settle well in her stomach and she set the goblet down.

  “Allow me to introduce you to our family,” Zahn continued.

  The servants continued to move around them with practiced ease, refilling goblets and scooping food from platters onto the plates in front of them. Dawn had the strangest sensation of being in a show, some kind of rehearsed skit where she was the only one who didn’t know her lines.

  Tension rippled through the air, its thickness almost making the rich smells from the food unnoticeable. She glanced down when some kind of meat was slid from a serving plate onto her own. Her stomach ached with nerves and she wasn’t sure she would manage to eat, not to mention the sip she’d just taken from the drink wasn’t sitting well.

  “My mate, Prel.” Zahn held his hand out and the woman sitting across from Dawn and next to Zahn placed her hand on his. “You are too old for a mother, Dawn. But Prel is here if you have matters of interest. She has agreed to assist you with questions of our culture.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Dawn said, not sure if she was supposed to speak or not.

  The snort that escaped the mouth of the woman sitting next to her suggested that she wasn’t. Dawn didn’t look that way, but instead attempted a small smile for Zahn’s mate. It couldn’t be easy to welcome her mate’s daughter into her home, a child produced from a sex slave, and obviously showing her mother’s race in her looks. The woman didn’t look at her, but kept her gaze on her mate until finally looking down at her plate. If Zahn noticed that she didn’t appear thrilled with the task of educating Dawn, he gave no indication.

  “My oldest son, Zook,” he continued, nodding to the young man who sat next to his mother and who had escorted them through the house. “And my daughter, Marl.”

  “So what was it like being a sex slave?” Marl asked, her words putting a hush on the room.

  “Marl,” Prel said with indignation.

  “Father said we were to get to know her,” Marl retorted. “What else would you ask of her?”

  “We will get to know her by listening to her speak with Father,” Zook scolded his younger sister. “We don’t have to talk to her.”

  “Are you afraid I might bite?” Dawn couldn’t help asking, allowing her gaze to rest heavily on the young man.

  He looked away from her quickly, confirming he might think just that.

  “Fear hardly describes the feelings at hand,” Marl said under her breath.

  “That is enough. You will honor your half-sister.” Zahn used a tone that should have been intimidating.

  “Placing too much honor on a person of her type will bring dishonor to us.” Zook had more balls than Dawn thought at first.

  She wanted to jump over the table and show him exactly what type of person she was, but she held her ground.

  Zahn growled, his expression not offering as much indication of his emotions as his body did when his hands clenched into fists on either side of his plate. “She is my blood, and already has shown she is more of a warrior than you have. Hold your tongue, or leave this table.”

  Trent slid his chair back quickly. He’d had enough of this escapade. “Have your servants escort us to a meeting room,” he said quietly, but with enough force to cause all to look at him. “Your family will finish their meal and then we shall meet with you.”

  Dawn stood just as quickly. She glared at the mother who made no attempt to silence her children but allowed them to berate her instead of being strong enough to say what more than likely was on her mind. In that instant, she was glad she hadn’t been raised in this family. They were a bunch of spoiled brats.

  “Dishonoring you is the last thing I wish to do,” Dawn hissed, her temper consuming her. “Teaching you some manners might not hurt though.”

  She glared at Zook, getting morbid satisfaction from him not standing up to her but seeming to shrink in his chair. He was as meek as the men on Poltar, far from a challenge for her.

  “As if you could teach us anything,” Marl muttered, not bothering to look up.

  Dawn looked down at the young woman, barely a woman but no longer a teenager. She itched to yank the little twit from her chair, show her exactly what she could teach the brat.

  “Dawn.” Trent’s tone made her name sound like a threat.

  She glanced up at him in time to see Zook jump when Trent spoke.

  “Enough,” Zahn Corl bellowed as he stood at the end of the table. “You all dishonor me in front of our guests. Leave!”

  He pointed to the door, and then glared down at his mate as if somehow it was her fault that her children had spoken their minds.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “More Tark wine!” Zahn Corl bellowed while leaning back in his chair after his family had left. Determination etched his face, bringing out wrinkles in his forehead and around his eyes.

  The servants hurried around them, as if somehow their actions could soothe the incident that had just occurred.

  “You ask too much of your family to accept me.” Dawn still stood next to her seat, clenching the back of it, needing something to hold on to or she would hurry out of the room too. “I didn’t come here to disrupt your home life, a life that isn’t mine, nor ever shall be.”

  “Sit,” Zahn ordered, gesturing to her and to Trent.

  “I’ve lost my appetite,” she told him, although she’d never been hungry.

  “Clear the plates,” Zahn instructed the servants, and then gestured to her and Trent once again. “Sit.”

  Dawn glanced toward Trent. More than anything she wanted to leave this place. There was unfinished business with her father, but that could be handled at another time, in a neutral place. She’d been insulted, humiliated, and the urge to storm out of there and never look back made it hard to think straight. A fiery rage ran through her, mixed with embarrassment. Her past was simply that. Somehow she would overcome it and move forward. And she didn’t see how remaining there would help her do that.

  Trent moved around the table, the servants artfully dodging him as they cleared serving dishes and plates. His attention was on Dawn. She shook with a fury he imagined burned through her veins. She didn’t have the training to restrain it. But she couldn’t explode in front of Zahn Corl. In spite of the man’s selfish attempt to place her as firstborn in front of his family, he had a rank that had to be respected, at least in his home.

  Dawn’s gray eyes burned with a passion that made her cheeks flush a beautiful pink. Her slow, deep breaths pushed her breasts forward even through the heavy material of the dress he’d provided for her. Standing there, staring down at the man who was her father, she was so captivating. But she was also a ticking bomb, ready to explode if not handled properly.

  He put his arm around her, feeling her stiffen, aware of the older man watching him. She didn’t relax when he pulled her to him, resting his arm around her shoulder. Long strands of black hair partially covered the side of her face, but he saw the edge of determination that was etched in her expression. So proud, so strong, she wouldn’t let this get her down.

  But she’d taken a blow—not only to her pride, but also to her heritage. And he knew her Gren blood wouldn’t take that lightly. Standing tall so close to him, she still seemed a distance away, not letting down her shield, not letting him in. Such a short time ago she’d been on her knees, sucking the life out of him. Now she had a wall up around her, one he would break through. Sh
e would learn trusting him, leaning on him, would make her life easier.

  “We will honor your father and sit as he requests,” he said very quietly, praying she wouldn’t throw him off with an outburst.

  She stared up at him, running her tongue over her lips, moistening them, their fullness reminding him that they had recently been wrapped around his cock. His insides hardened, raw possessiveness swarming through him.

  “I want to leave,” she whispered, the simple statement a confession of her humiliation.

  He pulled her closer, while sliding the seat out that Zahn Corl’s daughter had sat in moments before.

  It felt real good being in Trent’s arms. She fit so well pressed against his virile body. Energy that she didn’t know what to do with at the moment surged through her, making her heart race. Heat from his hard as rock muscles seeped through him and into her. He fed her his strength, his calmness, his ability to stand tall when she wanted to strike out. She wanted to attack. She wanted to run. Her mind was in turmoil. Trent was her solid pillar and she didn’t want to leave his arms.

  “There are matters to discuss,” he said simply, and took the seat next to Zahn.

  Zahn Corl crossed his thick arms over his massive chest and watched Trent with a shrewd eye. Trent didn’t care if holding Dawn showed his protective side, offered a glimpse of growing feelings between the two of them. Zahn Corl could have that knowledge, accept the fact that Dawn would be with him.

  Now was time to cut to the chase. There were issues to discuss that had nothing to do with whether Dawn became part of the House of Corl or not.

  Dawn hesitated for only a moment but then sat down next to Trent. His attention was on her father, but having him in her line of vision somehow made it easier to calm her breathing, clear her thoughts. She didn’t need protection from her father, or his family. But she didn’t mind having Trent on her side, next to her, a silent alliance forming that her father would acknowledge.

  The doors to the room opened again, and the woman who’d greeted them at the door appeared again.

  “You have another guest,” she said simply, giving no indication that any of the events of the evening affected her or not, or if she even cared.

  “Show her in,” Zahn said and then took a long drink from his wine.

  Trent realized he’d been expecting someone else all along, since Zahn Corl knew the gender of the guest without asking. One thing Trent didn’t like was surprises. He turned, eyeing the doorway, watching to see who would appear behind the servant. He wasn’t breathing, his senses were on alert, his body tensing although he remained relaxed in the chair. To show signs of aggression while a guest in a Gren home wasn’t proper.

  The older woman stepped to the side and a much younger woman sauntered into the room. Dawn straightened, seeming to recognize her instantly. Trent gave the woman a careful look, remembering also where he’d seen her before.

  “Borna. Thanks for coming,” Zahn Corl said in an uncharacteristically relaxed tone. He stood slowly, extending his hand, a non-Gren formality, and shook the woman’s hand.

  She nodded, and then turned her attention to Trent and Dawn. She was a short woman compared to Dawn, and well-built, muscular, yet attractive. Thick, long black hair had been twisted and piled behind her head. She studied both of them with knowing dark eyes, not quite black, more of a mud brown color. Her olive skin was smooth, an almost unnoticeable scar marking the side of her jawbone. She had the look of a warrior, and the convenient nondescript appearance that would hide her true heritage. A heritage Trent scorned and ached to wipe from the solar system.

  “Trent Dar,” Borna said quietly, nodding to him. “We meet again.”

  Dawn turned her attention quickly, giving him a hard look, obviously wondering how he knew Borna. He leaned back, crossing his arms against his chest. It allowed him to see Dawn better while she stared from Borna to him. And to keep his attention focused on the Bortan woman who stood in front of him. Albeit she didn’t have the surgical implants her race was known for, his past experiences allowed him the knowledge he knew Borna kept from most people.

  “Yes. It appears we do,” he said mildly, a slow understanding entering his brain. He now had a good hunch how Dawn had obtained the Bortan chips.

  Borna reached for the chair on the opposite side of the table from Trent and Dar, waiting for Zahn Corl to sit before doing the same. The brown leather pants she wore and loose-fitting brown shirt were work clothes, not Gren. They fit her nicely, showing off her sultry figure. The woman had a hardened look about her though that Trent knew came from battle and witnessing more than a person should have to see in a lifetime.

  Borna had made no attempt to honor the House of Corl by adhering to the Gren custom of proper visiting attire. Nonetheless, the woman would have caught anyone’s eye. Stunning and beautiful, if Trent didn’t have personal knowledge of her warrior skills, he would have passed her off as simply another attractive woman.

  Yet she was far from that. Borna was a Bortan, the dreaded race that he’d fought hard to annihilate from several planets now. And he would hear the explanation as to why she worked with Zahn Corl.

  Zahn must have read his thoughts. “I’m sure by now you are working to solve a riddle,” he suggested.

  Trent gave the older man his attention.

  “I’m in no mood for riddles,” he said, dropping all formalities. “You are working with a Bortan, a woman who was once on the high council and leader of the fifth army on Bort. This alone could dishonor you.”

  Borna leaned back in her chair, her gaze burrowing into Trent. “You would judge a person because of the blood running through their veins? Because of their heritage?” She gave Dawn a knowing look. “Do you think the House of Dar will readily accept a sex slave as your woman?”

  Adrenaline still pumped through Dawn from her encounter with the Corl family. She slid her chair back, standing up and leaning over the table. She’d had enough of being discredited for one night. “Trent Dar doesn’t own me,” she hissed. “And you know damn well that I’m no longer a slave.”

  Borna smiled, not even remotely intimidated by Dawn glaring down at her. “Oh. My mistake. So you don’t care if I take him home with me tonight?”

  Dawn shoved her chair back. Her interactions with Borna when she’d taken the Bortan chips from her had been brief. At the time, she’d appeared professional, distant, simply a businesswoman exchanging highly secretive material. Dawn had sensed her intelligence at the time, and even envied Borna for her worldly ways. But she hadn’t taken time to get to know her.

  But now, Borna would know a thing or two about her. She took a step to march around the table, let Borna have a piece of her mind, and maybe her fist. Strong hands grabbed her arms and she was yanked backward, tripping over her own feet. Trent’s chest hit her backside hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

  Heat from his body surged through her. She closed her eyes, unable to cope with so many emotions that ran raw through her system. His powerful body pressing against the length of hers once again made her ache to leave this place, be alone with him, put the bad experiences of the night behind her.

  “No fighting,” he said quietly into her ear. Privately though, he was honored that she would challenge another woman for him. He fought to keep his personal feelings concealed for the moment. Later however, when he was alone with her, he had every intention of bringing up the fact that she would publicly show her possessiveness for him.

  He pushed her back into her seat, the fire in her eyes while she fought to slow her breathing enough to inspire the thought of simply throwing her over his shoulder and marching right out of there. A carnal, more primitive side of him surfaced when it came to this woman.

  “Why are you here, Borna?” Dawn asked, feeling suddenly ridiculous for her obvious display of jealousy. She took a deep breath, staring at the woman across from her who still looked completely relaxed. Dawn had just made a damn fool of herself, and simply proven to everyone i
n the room how she felt about Trent. She needed to get the conversation moved on to other things, and quickly, before she died of embarrassment. “I did what I was asked to do. Are you here to check up on me?”

  “Excellent. So the prototype chips are destroyed.” Borna nodded with approval, apparently willing to drop the issue of Trent as well, yet ignoring Dawn’s question and giving no indication why she was here.

  “Well…” Dawn chewed her lip, unwilling to lie.

  “Well what?” Zahn Corl leaned forward.

  Dawn looked from her father to Borna.

  “Where are they?” Borna asked, her smile fading. Suddenly she looked incredibly dangerous. There weren’t many people who made Dawn nervous, and she was a fair bit taller than Borna. But the hard look that crossed the woman’s face, her muscular body, made it clear that she wouldn’t tolerate any lies.

  “I have them.” Trent didn’t hesitate.

  All eyes in the room turned to him.

  Trent reached inside his long cape, and pulled out a small bag. He placed it on the table in front of all of them. No one moved. No one reached for the bag that bulged with computer chips.

  “And now, you will explain to me exactly what is on these chips,” he said, his attention completely on Borna.

  “I am on those chips,” she said quietly. “And once and for all, they need to be destroyed.”

  Trent leaned back, as if that made sense to him. Well, it didn’t make sense to Dawn.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “You told me those carried information on turning Bortan into humanoids who couldn’t be recognized. You said if those chips were implanted in a Bortan, they wouldn’t need their metal implants. It would change the race so that they were no longer noticeably half human, half machine.”

  Borna nodded. “And I am Bortan,” she said.

  A chill rushed through Dawn. Borna was a product of the race that had annihilated her home, killed her mother, destroyed her planet. For a moment she couldn’t think. The other two men looked so calm, like Borna hadn’t just announced the most terrible thing they could hear. Her mind spun with scenes of the Ryl Plantation burning, of the large house crumbling to the ground, of the land around her so bright with fire that she couldn’t see, of the hair on her skin singeing as she raced inside the slave homes searching for survivors. She could still hear the Bortan ships flying above her, dropping more bombs on a land already destroyed.