captor, as they encouraged him to give up his fight to be free and return to the world he loved and defended. But he had never believed them.
He believed her.
It struck him like a physical blow, sucking all the oxygen out of his body.
“It is a cruel practice, as is a great deal of what slave traders do to others like you. I do not deny that.” Vejhon felt her stroking him along his temples, the caress soothing the shock from his system. She leaned in and gently touched her mouth to his, kissing him softly. It was completely non-sexual, like a sister or a mother might do to comfort a loved one. It only made his head ring with more confusion, even though it eased him physically. “I will make you this promise, Vejhon,” she murmured. “If you invest your trust in me, I will help you to become a part of your new world. I will help you replace what you have lost as best I am able.”
“I have lost my freedom, my Lady,” he growled, stressing the title with contempt. “Will you replace that?”
“As best as I am able,” she agreed with a nod, amazing him with the sincerity she managed to put behind the vague remark.
“How stupid do you think I am?” he bit out, jerking his head out of her hands since it was the only thing he was truly free enough to do. “Your approach is sweet as sugar, but your promises are as bitter and incomplete as a wine turned to vinegar.”
She stepped away from him the instant he began to balk against her touch, and Vejhon tried not to miss the warmth of her closeness to his bare skin. The ambient temperature of the room kept him from being chilled, but her absence made him want to shiver nonetheless. Yet another reaction he couldn’t understand any more than he could control it.
“Very well,” she said with resignation and a sigh. “We shall have to come about this by a more difficult route.”
“Lady, if you thought this was going to be easy, then you aren’t near as smart as I thought you were.”
The insult did not affect her, but it certainly didn’t sit well with her boy toy behind her. The other slave was clearly so inured and enamored of his mistress that he took offense whenever she was insulted and threatened. How had she taken a man of such obvious power and managed to mold him into this disgusting display of obedient loyalty? Vejhon couldn’t escape the tendril of dread working through him that told him that if he didn’t entrench himself against this woman with every last cell of resistance and strength in his body, looking at Najir was as good as looking at himself in the future.
“Najir, you are dismissed.”
3
The directive was soft spoken and almost matter of fact. Yet, Vejhon watched with surprise as Najir hesitated to obey his mistress as instantly as he had been doing up until then. Clearly he feared for her safety and disliked the idea of leaving her alone with a barbarian warrior who insulted her, with one who would not care anything about her health or safety should the opportunity to escape arise.
“Najir?”
A simple name spoken, but the layers of tone and intent within it radiated from the single word. It was a scold and a reassurance all at once. There was even a hint of secrets that flashed between them as she exchanged a long look with him. Finally, he bowed his head in acquiescence and obeyed his Master. He left the room, sealing the door in his wake.
“You haven’t asked me who I am,” she noted as she walked a short distance away and opened a small chest made of wood standing close to the hooks and their strange occupants. As she opened the chest it displayed trays of what looked like jewels and jewelry. The contents of that box could buy him passage and freedom anywhere a dozen times over. “Not my name, or where you are, or anything about the woman who owns you.”
“The only thing I’m interested in is what your neck will sound like when I snap it like a twig.”
She ignored him. “My name is Hanna Drakoulous, Master of House of Drakoulous, one of the most powerful Houses in the political structure of this society. To belong to this House,” she pointed out, “is to be protected by a great and powerful name.”
“Owned, sweetheart,” he bit back caustically. “Call it what it is. ‘To be owned by this House.’ Don’t think for a minute I’m going to let you whitewash that fact from my mind with euphemisms and other delicately put bullshit.”
“I did nothing of the kind. Free or owned, those who live here belong here,” she said with conviction. “This House is a covenant, Vejhon Mach. One that cannot be broken. One that, once you enter it, you will not want to abandon. You stand on the threshold of a new life. All you need to do is accept it, and it will be yours.”
She withdrew something from the jeweled collection and made her way back to him. He stiffened instinctively at her approach. This time she did smile at the reaction, the expression just a little too wicked for Vejhon’s peace of mind. He let his eyes dart to her hands and the thing that she carried. It was a thick band of platinum or white gold, he couldn’t immediately tell which, and it had the figure of some kind of catlike creature carved into it. Set in the creature’s eyes were two lone gemstones, amethysts of a deep and unusual violet…or a stone very much like them. Jewels and precious metals were the only common currency between the worlds that were part of the spaceways, but no two planets bore all of the same type, making the value of the gems rise and fall between locations. There were a few universals, though, something that could be found most anywhere, and those maintained a steady value. The purple gems in the band appeared rare enough to hold great worth.
She stopped near his left side and reached out to touch his clenched biceps. Her fingers gently ran over the veins and contours of his arm until she reached the manacle at his wrist. Vejhon ought to have protested violently, rattling his bonds with all of his strength and anger, but he knew it was a waste of energy at this point and decided to save it for a more effective opportunity. This woman was going to find her lush backside on the shit side of his list right along with all the others who had brought him to this point. He would satisfy himself with that knowledge and his surety in his ability to eventually escape this nightmare.
She snapped open the band, making him realize it was hinged so cleverly he hadn’t even noticed the utilitarian accent. Reaching for his arm again, she moved to snap the band in place.
“If you put that thing on me, I swear to all the gods I will rip your fucking head off.”
The threat didn’t even make her hesitate.
“No, you will not,” she answered matter-of-factly. “In fact, once this band is in place, you will never be able to hurt me without hurting yourself. It is a safety measure, so you will forgive me if I find it wise to use it, since you take such comfort in threats and in your own wrath.”
She snapped the band on easily, Vejhon helpless to do anything but growl at her with ferocity. Then she pressed both of the gems simultaneously and he felt a series of sharp, needlelike stings zipping into his skin around the entire circumference of the band.
“Gods! You bitch! What did you do?!” he roared, his voice echoing with resonance off of the stone walls.
“I told you. It is to assure that you cannot cause me harm. It does not subvert your will in any other way,” she reassured him. “You can be as angry and violent as you like, so long as you don’t combine it with laying hands on me with the intent to hurt me.”
“I can’t touch you, period!
