The Bid Read online

  Nor had he ever seen one with skin the color of the noonday sky. Her coloring was shades of sky and powder blue, a fascinating fairness of an entirely different sort. Her complexion was flawless, even luminescent if he had to give a descriptor, but it was most definitely blue. Soft, delicate shades that only darkened around the edges of her clothing, leading him to think her racial coloring deepened as it flowed over her breasts and other private areas. Her lips were dark, a mix between a deep violet and a midnight red, and he suspected a match to the large, dark nipples tipping her breasts, which he could see against the fabric of her dress.

  Her eyes, which had never once moved from his as he had made his assessment of her, were dark and sultry, a blend between midnight blue and black. They were like the night sky on his homeworld. They were set in the face of a beautiful woman, framed by thick, boot-black lashes and delicate arching brows. Her cheekbones were an elegant, aristocratic sweep beneath otherwise soft curves of a lush and pretty face. She looked young, and had he been another type of man he might have believed her air of innocence, but he had lived through too much war to ever assume anyone was capable of innocence.

  He flicked one more assessing glance over to the male standing guard behind her. The two were clearly not of the same race, probably not even similar species. Not that such couplings were unusual, what with space open to anyone and everyone who could afford to travel it, but it wasn’t lost on him that the other male could easily have come from his own homeworld.

  Vejhon had too many questions and despised being in a position that afforded him little leverage in demanding answers. The realization was burning furiously in his eyes as he crashed gazes with the woman he could only assume considered herself his owner. The very idea made his hands curl into defiant fists, instigating a step forward from her wary and watchful bodyguard behind her. Again, a single soft gesture with her hand brought him to a halt. She hadn’t even turned to look at him, nor had she spoken a word. Her bodyguard simply resumed his watchful stance, the muscles in his body tensed tightly as he anticipated any possible trouble. The subtle communication made it very clear to Vejhon who was the dominant between them.

  He suddenly wanted to laugh in her face. If she thought that she could get him to behave like a well-trained pet, like she had with this other male, she was going to be sorely surprised.

  “Welcome to your new home,” she said at last, her voice a low, sultry rasp that caught him by surprise. It made her speech feel intimate and decadent; and while it suited the courtesan’s body she boasted, it was out of place coming from the back-drop of her angelic countenance. “I can only imagine what you are thinking and feeling after what was, no doubt, a long ordeal. I was promised you were not abused, and I hope that is the truth.”

  “This entire atrocity has been an abuse, lady,” he snapped irritably.

  “‘My Lady,’” she corrected him gently. “I know there is much for you to adjust to in the coming days, but it is important that you address me with respect. A slave can be put to death if he is observed being disrespectful of nobility, and whatever you may be feeling now, you do not strike me as the sort of man who would relish a death of that type of shame.”

  Vejhon had been ready to shoot back one of his best barracks retorts, but now he hesitated. There was logic to her request. Logic that centered on the benefit to his life and safety, rather than her desire to have him kowtow to her. He narrowed his eyes on her, wondering if he was being artfully played.

  “I am no slave,” he gritted out between tight teeth.

  “Your present circumstances say otherwise,” she noted. “But I realize that you were slave to no one before you were brought to this part of the galaxy. You were, no doubt, a powerful and independent man where you come from.” She took a single step closer to him, bringing her close enough to elicit a sharply indrawn breath from her guardian. “However, on a planet full of people who look exactly like me, you will be known as nothing but a slave. You will stand out in every crowd, you will be coveted, and you will no doubt be captured or killed if you try to travel this world without the protection of the House that owns you.”

  “No one owns me,” he hissed, outrage making him jerk at his manacles. To her credit, the serene beauty did not even flinch.

  “Perhaps not your spirit,” she acquiesced softly, “but so long as you are on this world, I own you. Your body is my property and your fate is mine for the choosing. Believe me when I tell you, your circumstances could have been far more horrific than even your worst imaginings, and very almost were. One day, you will realize you owe Najir a great debt of thanks.”

  Vejhon looked back at the big blond male when she nodded toward him and mentioned his name. Najir. He looked back to his “owner” and abruptly wondered if she had a name or if she would insist on “my Lady” and nothing else.

  She took a couple of steps back, her movement an effortless glide over the smooth stone. Now she began to assess and contemplate him as a whole, her blue-black eyes making it easy to follow where she was studying him from one moment to the next. Vejhon was overcome by a mixture of confusing emotions as her gaze moved liked a warm, physical touch over his skin. Impotent fury, total bafflement, and now an unexpected response of pride and stimulation as he watched the contented pleasure that altered her expression. She was vastly satisfied with his body, according to that look, and for some reason he was glad of it. So much so that, as her eyes stroked toward his groin, his cock began to respond to her inspection. Vejhon cursed himself for the hot-blooded reaction, not understanding how he could betray himself by growing hard before someone who had bought him. He most certainly was not going to perform for this woman like the good little slave boy behind her. Gods only knew what all of Najir’s duties entailed. He probably fucked her pretty brains out twice daily, getting hard on command just as he had been trained to do.

  Like a pet. Sit. Stay. Fuck.

  His disgust and anger at the thought helped him get his body back under his control. For the moment. She was looking dead into his eyes again now and he knew she was fully aware of his momentary response. After all, he was chained naked to the damn wall; it was pretty hard to hide. What he didn’t understand is why she didn’t gloat or take obvious pleasure in the small victory over him. This was a war. They were going to be battling one another for some time to come, didn’t she see that?

  “Very well,” she said at last. “Let’s start with the basics. What is your name?”

  “Colonel Vejhon Mach, commander of the Valiant Forces in the army of Wite.”

  “Here you are only Vejhon,” she said, actually sounding regretful. “Perhaps Jhon for short, if you like it.”

  “Why do you bother asking me my opinion on things after you remind me that I have no choice to begin with!” Vejhon rattled his bonds, shuddering with outrage and straining toward his captor as though force of will alone would free him. “You’ll call me what you want to call me and you won’t give a damn what I think of it!”

  Her dark eyes watched him, looking almost a little sad, until suddenly she moved forward and came right up to him. She reached out, her hands graceful and elegantly manicured, her slightly pointed nails painted to match her gown. Vejhon was completely taken off guard, not only that she went to touch him in spite of his rage, but because her light blue skin gave him the false illusion that she would be cold to the touch.

  Instead, as her fingertips skimmed his temples and her palms moved to cup his face, he found her to be incredibly warm. She smelled of a rich perfume, something probably blended solely for her that enhanced both scent and pheromones. It reminded him of the aromas of chocolate and sex, a deadly sweet combination both sultry and inviting.

  She moved close, her body near enough to radiate warmth against him. She angled his head to assure he was looking down into her eyes. “Things”—she breathed softly against him—“are not always what we assume. I would think as a trained warrior you would know this.” He felt her thumb stroke over his lowe
r lip, the caress so oddly disturbing to him in its intimacy. She felt as though she were radiating into him, like a sun he must soak in for warmth and life. His rage, so pure and powerful only a moment ago, dissipated like an out-washing tide.

  “Vejhon, I’m sorry your life was taken from you. I regret so deeply what you have lost in the process of ending up here. However, if you can bring yourself to accept that you can have a new life here with us, I promise you it will be just as fulfilling if not more so than that which you have left behind.”

  “If you regret it so badly,” he countered roughly, “then why not simply send me back? Why do you do this? You perpetuate this misery when you buy flesh off of peddlers like some bauble or a new dress! You make the market that encourages them to steal people from their worlds and lives! From their families!”

  “I did not make this market, Jhon, and even if I never bought another slave, it would not impact a trade spanning thousands of cultures on dozens of worlds.”

  “One less culture on one less world can be a beginning to an end,” he rasped in frustration.

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that,” she agreed. “But we are discussing one slave, in one household, in one room at the moment. When you were taken from your world, your captors injected you with a pestilent deterrent. A dormant genetic virus that, once it is released, cannot be recalled. This virus will only become active when brought into contact with something common and uniquely indigenous to your homeworld. If you ever step foot on your planet again, you will die within hours of doing so. So when I say you cannot go back, I am not speaking with my personal gain in mind.”

  He had known this. He had been told this again and again, from captor to 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! You have me chained to the wall like an animal! What more reassurance can you possibly need? Are you truly that afraid of me that you need to manipulate an already helpless man?”

  “Actually, I am not afraid of you at all, Jhon.”

  He would have laughed in her face at that obvious lie, only her eyes were so serene and seemed so believably honest. She gave off no clue that she harbored any fear of him, and that was simply something he wasn’t used to. Everyone feared him. His enemies, his troops—every one of those bastards who had traded him from ship to ship until they had brought him to this end. Even though he’d been caged and bound, he had seen the fear behind the greedy excitement in their eyes. He had seen how they had stood back from the force fields separating him from them even though there was no way he could possibly approach.