Miali swallowed her words, unwilling to tell him in case it made him realise who she was. It didn’t seem as though they knew who they were dealing with. Whether or not that was a good thing, she didn’t know. It was bad for them. They would make less money. However, if they did know, that would also be bad for them. If they were planning to auction her at a market, they would need to announce that she was Lyran royalty in order to get the best price. Any Lyran, Terran, Varkan or Minervan army personnel in the area would come to her aid.
She looked up at the dark ceiling and the pinhole of light. Would her family have realised by now that she was missing? Her ship should have made it to Dliaer. Her family would have been expecting contact from her. Normally, she spoke to them every few days. It must have been almost nine since her last contact.
Would the army come for her?
Would her brothers come?
Her father?
He would kill all of these Minervans in a heartbeat to protect her, just as her two brothers would.
She wanted them all dead. She wanted them to suffer as her companions had.
Staring at the man, Miali hoped that he could see in her eyes every ounce of anger she was feeling. She hoped that he knew it was all for him. When she was free of these shackles, she was going to kill them all. This wasn’t the way she had imagined the universe. She had known that the slave trade was alive and booming, but she had never thought that someone would capture her and turn her into a slave. She had never imagined how horrifying it was, and somehow she knew that this was only the beginning. Soon she would face the markets and then what?
“I shall not ask you again,” he said and tried to touch her.
She moved her head to one side, desperate to avoid him.
“Good. Then I will not have to answer you.” Miali spat the words at him and leaned back as far as the collar would allow.
His fingertips grazed her cheek and sent heat sweeping through her. She cursed the way her body reacted to his touch, as though it wanted to feel it, longed for it. This man had killed her companions. The hands that he touched her with had blood on them.
He muttered something about her hair and scanned it again with the device.
“Not Lyran,” he whispered and tilted his head to one side as though fascinated.
“What does it matter to you?” she hissed and glared at him. “Will I fetch a prettier price if I’m a mixed species? Or are you worried that I’ll be worth less?”
He frowned at her, his eyes dark and holding a hint of anger. What right did he have to be angry? He had killed her companions, imprisoned her, and intended to sell her to the one with the best offer. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was her.
His device beeped. He looked down at it and smiled again.
“Dazkaran,” he said and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Interesting.”
On the screen of his device was what looked like a DNA strand and information written in symbols that she recognised as Minervan. It was a medical device.
“Are you a doctor?” she said and he raised his head, his eyes meeting hers.
“The closest there is to one on this ship. You’re part Dazkaran.” He took hold of a strand of her hair and let it slip through his fingers. “That’s why your body reacts so strongly to your emotions.”
His look turned thoughtful.
“Sub-space affects you because of this.”
She was beginning to wonder if he was more interested in her as a science project than a slave that could potentially make him rich.
She nodded. “It makes me sick. Something which you and sub-space have in common.”
He smiled at her, as though her words had no effect other than amusing him.
“I thought so,” he said and she concentrated on the ship. It was moving but far slower than before. It wasn’t in sub-space. She gave him an incredulous look. He had said that he was the closest thing to a doctor on this vessel. Had he ordered the captain, that horrible mountain of man, to travel through normal space?
Why?
“You should eat.” He walked across the room and came back with another disgusting protein pack. The taste of the black goo had made her want to retch and the texture of it had made it impossible to swallow. She shook her head and kept her mouth firmly shut. He wasn’t going to fool her into eating it this time. He sighed and pulled the crate out again, placing it in front of her.
When he sat down, he toyed with the pack just as he had done before. He seemed more patient than the other man and a lot younger. He almost seemed too young to be a doctor on any vessel, even one this small. Minervans aged at a similar rate to Lyrans. He had to be close to her age.
“If I don’t eat, what happens?” she said.
“To you, or to your value?”
“My value,” she said, that word hard to swallow. Her father had always said that she was priceless. How much would he pay for her? He would probably give everything he had for her safe return.
“It goes down,” he said and for some reason that answer pleased her. What he said next made her reconsider her plan to starve herself. “If you don’t eat, the man you met, Nostra, will punish me and will send another man to feed you. Sasue is the one of us most likely to resort to violence to get you to eat. If that doesn’t work, he’ll probably do things to you that could result in you losing your mind. It would make you quieter at the auction but would probably lower your value a little.”
“But you said...”
His look soured. “Sasue has been running slaves long enough to know how to get his pleasure without tainting the goods.” He stared at the floor, as though he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “He’s sick. I don’t want that to happen to...”
Miali frowned. To who? To her? This man was confusing her more and more by the second. Perhaps if she ate then he would leave her alone again. But then, if he did that, the other man he had spoken of might come to see her. What was stopping him from coming to this room?
“If I eat, will you leave?” she said.
He nodded.
“If you leave...” She bit her tongue to stop herself from saying it. Shackled to the wall, she was vulnerable, and that frightened her. If the man called Sasue came, she wouldn’t be able to stop him from doing things to her.
“I will lock the door,” he said, as though he had read her mind. “Only the captain can overrule my decision about keeping you locked away.”
A moment of uncomfortable silence stretched between them as she looked into his dark eyes. He lowered his head again and stared at the protein pack.
“You seem different to him,” she said and found herself relaxing a little. She watched his slender pale fingers as he played with the packet of black goo. Either it fascinated him as much as her hair did or he was avoiding looking at her.
She wished that she could sense people’s feelings like her cousin Sophia could. That ability would be handy right now.
“This wasn’t my profession of choice,” he whispered and squeezed the pack. All of the liquid oozed up to one end. “I didn’t want this blood on my hands.”
Unsure how to respond to such a confession by a man who was her enemy, Miali stared at him and remained silent. He turned the pack over and sighed when it fell from his hands, hitting the metal floor with a thud. He stared at his upturned palms, a frown creasing his brow.
His fingers curled into tight fists and he leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.
When he looked up at her, she could clearly read the pain in his eyes. It made her believe every word that he had just said. He hadn’t wanted blood on his hands. He gave a frustrated growl, scooped up the protein pack and threw it against the wall as he stood.
She opened her mouth when he stalked into the darkness, afraid that he might leave and forget to lock the door. His company was preferable to being alone. When she was alone, she kept thinking about that other man that he had mentioned. When she was alone, she felt vulnerable, trapped and
unable to defend herself. She would rather he stayed so he could protect her. He seemed a reasonable man and she had a strange impression that he might care about what happened to her.
Relief blossomed inside her, as warm as the Lyran sun, when he reappeared out of the darkness and walked up to her. Stopping close to her, he dragged a hand over his spiked black hair.
He turned away and hung his head.
“Why am I here?” he muttered under his breath.
Miali frowned at his back, wishing that she could see his face.
Those words had held a hint of frustration and self-loathing. She wanted to know if he truly felt those feelings or whether this was some kind of act.
She laughed internally at herself. What benefit would there be to him acting this way? There was no benefit to him being here at all that she could see. If he wanted her to eat, then he could easily force her. He seemed to want to be here with her and that thought made no sense at all.
“Why am I here?” she echoed his question and he looked over his shoulder at her.
“Because you are valuable.” He turned to face her, so close that she could feel his breath wash over her skin when he talked. “Beautiful, young, intelligent. You’re everything those sick terk’naks at the markets desire.”
Terk’naks. She knew that word. Her older brothers had taught her to swear in several languages. There wasn’t an equivalent to this word in Lyran but she understood the meaning enough to know that he didn’t approve of the type of person who bought a slave.
“If you loathe them so much, why are you here sending people like me to a life of torture at their hands?”
He frowned and his dark eyes flashed with something akin to anger but it seemed stronger. A moment of hesitation and then his fingers brushed her cheek. His palm was warm against her skin, sending tingles dancing through her each time they touched.
“You are much like them.” He swallowed and his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry. It’s you or them.”
Before she could ask what he meant by that, he had walked out of the door. Her cheek felt cold from the absence of his hand against it and her head ached as she tried to make sense of everything he had said.
Some of it was perfectly clear, but that last part she didn’t understand at all. Who was she like? Why was it her or them?
How could a man who so clearly hated the people who bought slaves, work in the slave trade?
Miali stared at the door and then looked up when the light began to dim, shrouding her in darkness. Her heart rate increased as the black closed in on her, sending waves of cold chills over her body.
Why was this happening to her?
Was anybody going to come and save her?
****
Chapter 4
Kosen punched the code into the door and listened to the locks click into place. He leaned one arm horizontally against the wall beside the door and pressed his forehead against his forearm. His eyes closed. What was he doing? His duty was to feed her and ensure her health remained good. Feeding a captive and checking their health normally took him no more than a few minutes. He didn’t normally care if they wanted to eat or not. He made them eat.
What was so different about her?
Why was he sitting in her cell for hours watching her, studying her? Why did he go to sleep in his quarters each night thinking of her?
She was beautiful.
She reacted to him.
But she was a slave.
She was meat to be sold at market, not a living thing. When he had started in this line of work, he had promised himself that he would only ever see the captives as that. He had spent years ridding himself of any glimmer of feeling concerning the women that passed through his hands. Why now? Why her? Why was she making him feel this way?
“She getting to you, Doc?” Sasue’s deep voice sent a shiver of disgust down Kosen’s spine.
Kosen pushed away from the wall and stared blankly at Sasue, taking in the twisted grin on his ugly face and his patchy matted long black hair, sections of it bald from the scars on his scalp. Sasue’s bulky frame blocked the corridor. He pressed his hand against the door and stroked it as though he was touching the female on the other side.
“She got spirit. I can help you with her, if you get what I mean.” Sasue grinned to reveal long sharp teeth. “Let me in, Doc.”
Sasue’s enormous hand flattened against the door.
“No,” Kosen said and went to walk away but Sasue grabbed his arm. Kosen looked down at Sasue’s hand where it was wrapped around his slender forearm, his fingers thick enough that he could probably snap the bone if he wished. Kosen sighed and prised Sasue’s hand off him, unafraid of the brutal Minervan. “I mean no, Sasue. No one touches the captive. She’s too valuable.”
He walked away.
Sasue started banging on the door, shouting lewd things at the female on the other side. Kosen’s temperature rose to boiling point as he listened to the vile diatribe. It was a struggle to stop himself from going back and forcing Sasue to leave. When Sasue went into intimate detail about the things he was going to do to the female once he had broken the door down, she shrieked.
Kosen’s restraint snapped.
He ran back up the corridor, his hand going to the knife attached to the rear of his belt. Sasue turned to look at him with a wide grin, as though he was coming back to open the door. Kosen sprung at Sasue, grabbing the collar of the large male’s flight suit, and brought his feet up. He pressed them into Sasue’s chest and slammed him into the metal grate floor of the corridor. His knife was against Sasue’s throat before he could react.
Sasue’s grin faded.
“Leave,” Kosen snarled, breathing deep to catch his breath.
Sasue glared at him. Kosen pressed the knife into his throat until it nicked his pale flesh and a bead of black blood lined the blade.
“Leave,” Kosen repeated and stood, stepping off Sasue.
Sasue picked himself up, rubbed his throat and then licked the blood off his palm. For a moment, Kosen thought that he would retaliate but then he turned and walked away. Kosen exhaled sharply.
What was happening to him?
He had never stopped Sasue from uttering such disgusting vulgar words through the door at captives before. He had never cared until now.
Kosen went back to the door and checked that he was alone before punching in the code. The door opened and the light slowly came on, illuminating the female. She was beautiful. More beautiful than his sisters had been. Some sick pervert would pay dearly for one as pretty as she was.
The door closed behind him and he locked it from the inside.
She was breathing fast, her eyes wide with panic. She probably thought that he was Sasue. He stepped out of the shadows, showing her that it was only him. Her eyes widened further and she wriggled as she shook her head. Following her gaze, he realised that she was staring at the knife in his hand. Slowly, so he didn’t frighten her, he slid it back into his belt.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said and sat down on the crate. Nostra would punish him for attacking Sasue. Their captain didn’t tolerate fighting amongst the crew.
“That shouting,” she said, her face so pale that her hair looked dark. The silver strands were flat against her head. It had to be a sign of her fear. When she was happy, when her feelings were positive, her hair floated. It was fascinating.
Daughters of Lyra: Heart of a Mercenary Page 3