The Bid (20 page)

With Hanna everything was different.

She wasn’t like any other woman he had known. She was hard-working, confident, strident when she needed to be, and she indulged in all of her appetites with relish—that last part a particular favorite of his. Food, sex, and play were her top three favorites once her responsibilities were met for the day. She also seemed to like the bazaar a great deal. She often went and returned empty-handed, but it was obvious she had enjoyed herself regardless.

Hanna enjoyed her life in general. Unlike her whiny and conniving little sister, she took nothing for granted. Vejhon had started to develop a powerful core of respect for her. He understood now why Najir was so loyal and protective, and he even understood that it wasn’t all because of his emotional attachment to her. But Najir had kept withdrawn and quiet since Vejhon had woken from his three-day transition, keeping his feelings locked away from even the shrewdest eyes. He was dealing with them on his own, and again, Vejhon respected that.

“Is Han—uh, my Lady going to the bazaar today?” Jhon winced when Najir turned a critical eye on him for the mistake. It was taking some adjustment for him to remember to address her properly in casual conversation that didn’t include her personally. When Hanna was there in person, he actually took great pleasure in titling her “my Lady.”

“That is her plan. But today you will accompany her.”

Jhon couldn’t conceal his surprise. For the last few days he had been sent to the house after the COM session was over while Hanna took care of her other chores.

“Is that wise? I’m only just getting the hang of navigating the city and the people in it.”

“Your instincts are all you need once you master the issues of respect. You are there to serve her in everyone else’s eyes, but your true purpose is to protect her life.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Jhon said. “I am always prepared to protect her life.”

“The trick, Vejhon, is to know the point when she cannot protect herself. Don’t ever forget that she is as much predator as you or I. Her rights to defend herself are clear. Yours are not. Only her word will save your life if you commit violence. No one else knows your slave band is inactive, allowing you to commit acts of bloodshed.”

“How is it I was able to attack you when I had the true band on, Najir? If it’s supposed to keep me from being violent to anyone—”

“Except other slaves. We have little value, in the end. The bands cancel each other out in altercations between slaves. Mine still recognizes yours in spite of its dysfunction. Both bands are in perfect working order with one exception: a chip is burned out that measures rising aggression hormones and body signs. If it never redlines, it never instigates the pain deterrent.” Najir lowered his voice further, knowing Jhon’s keen hearing could catch it easily. “The purpose is to make it look like accidental malfunction should you ever be caught, Jhon. So that blame cannot be placed on your Master.”

“She would sacrifice us to protect herself?” Jhon asked in a hiss.

“She would sacrifice us to protect her House, but never to protect herself. Especially not you, Jhon. You are too important to her.”

“I’m sure.” Jhon responded with a frown. He knew Hanna wanted him to learn to shift to the Otherside and then to make love with her in that form because it would set her brother free from the Otherside. And then what was his next use? To breed kits with her? What else was there for him to do? He couldn’t take charge of her protection or security forces. He couldn’t stand beside her openly as she led her House. He was like a dirty little secret being quietly kept.

Had he agreed to this? What was the point of all this change when Najir had done just as well, except to serve the needs of a brother seeking a new life and the ability to breed? The thought infuriated him, hot and fast and without any chance to control it. He knew in an instant that she’d heard it because her entire body jerked taut and she stopped speaking mid-sentence.

“Master Drakoulous?” Master Harner asked politely. “Is everything all right?”

“Quite,” she assured after taking a small breath. She couldn’t help looking over Harner’s shoulder and into the bellcat eyes of her lover. His thoughts of anger stung her hard, her throat closing up and forcing her to clear it before trying to speak again. “I just realized that…I hadn’t told you Asha is back in town for a brief visit and I know you and your daughter enjoy having her.”

“Indeed we do!”

Hanna let her peer express his fondness for her sister as her mind sought further thoughts from Vejhon. Her first instinct was to be defensive and hurt, and she was, but being so close to him now she knew his temper was a mighty force inside of him and she needed to give it respectful attention when it was guiding his emotions. Did he honestly think that was all he was to her? A means to a few ends? Had she been treating him as such?

She prayed not. It had never been her intention to devalue him in any way. Her intentions had been very much the opposite! He was vital to her for…for many reasons. Wasn’t he?

Her spirit deep within cried yes. She couldn’t name why or reason it out in her mind, but he was not so utilitarian to her as he thought. His companionship over these past two weeks had come to mean a great deal to her. At the first opportunity she would seek his advice because she knew as a former commander he had much to offer her.

But you require more than just me
, she thought with a painful swallow, realizing how selfish it was to expect to be the center of his world. Najir took great pleasure in doing so, but Jhon was very different.

Vejhon heard the whispered thought of pained understanding in response to his unchecked anger and he instantly regretted allowing it free rein in this setting. Too much time to think was the problem. He needed better occupation. Would he ever be able to achieve that as a slave, pretend or not? In any event, it was something they should be discussing in private, not in emotional snatches across a chamber full of her peers.

He softened his expression and messaged his regrets with the strength of his eyes alone. She smiled softly at him, then wider when he winked at her. She turned back to her conversation, and it pleased Jhon when she couldn’t resist sliding glances at him when she had the opportunity.

Baron Majum watched these little exchanges closely, his fingers tapping out a steady, annoyed rhythm on his knee. She had trained the supposed barbarian much more quickly than he would have been able to credit anyone with. How did she do it? Was her cunt really that miraculous? It was clear she was using it to keep her gorgeous team content because they both watched her with completely devoted attention. Jhon had kept his temper well concealed, years of practice serving him, so Majum had missed that aspect of the exchange between him and Hanna.

Why would she bring both of her toys to the COM if she wasn’t trying to flaunt them in his face? Majum thought angrily. He’d suffered the insult for days now and he had reached his limit. He knew for a fact Drakoulous was heading to the marketplace after COM was dismissed, and he had a little surprise planned for her. The best thing he could say about the High City was that it was very close to the Low City and it was wide open to such nefarious types. Types that would do anything for a little bit of money. He wasn’t expecting to excise the bitch as smoothly as he had her mother, a play he was infinitely proud of to this very day, but he was hoping to deprive her of at least one of her toys. Najir followed her everywhere, like a puppy completely devoted, and he was certain to be available for an unfortunate encounter with a few cutpurses. She also made the ridiculous error of sending the new one home alone every day. It made a terrific opportunity for him to “run away.”

Really, it had taken him forever to make up his mind between them.

“I
think you will enjoy the bazaar,” Hanna said to Vejhon as they walked along one of the clay-colored walkways with its white lined markings to differentiate it from the matching road. He was a respectful number of steps behind her, but he heard her easily.

He didn’t care for the procession much, but he did find some benefits in it. He liked to watch her backside as she walked, the rope of her hair sweeping from side to side across it with every step because she had that natural slink to her walk that she just couldn’t shut off. Today she was wearing trousers, the pants as white as the buildings around her and as snug as her skin. Her blouse was more what he was used to on her, floating, feminine and shimmering silkiness in a splash of deep purple, and if she turned just right the sweet shape of her breast was formed perfectly in it.

“I am sure I will. I enjoy seeing the city. The genetics for your skin and the dark hair among your people is quite dominant, but I have seen some intriguing people who are out of the mold and obviously not slaves.”

“Those people are often coveted for marriages,” she noted. “Breeding with slaves is what is necessary, not what is generally wanted. Those with fewer PAN traits tend to be more fertile.”

He noted her discomfort speaking of her people’s cavalier treatment of fertile slaves and understood it was his earlier flash of temper that made her sensitive to it. But the truth was that it was a part of his purpose in her life. There was no denying that.

“Why do you suppose so many of you have become infertile?”

“The Apocalypse. The entire world was destroyed by war, famine, and disease. Those few who survived had suffered sterilizing illnesses in many cases, and the genetic pool of this country started from only forty-four families, Jhon. Forty-three if you take into account that my family wouldn’t breed with outsiders. From those families sprang all of this.” She swept her arms out to indicate the city. Since the entire city was on a mountain, all the streets were graded on a slope, and it allowed for a view to suit her point.

“The introduction of slaves is not so old a practice as you may think,” she continued softly. “We were desperate. To go through all of that survival after the Apocalypse, only to be taken down again because our men were mostly sterile and our women little better? Have you any idea how horrifying it is to a society to be in a city this vast and have a zero-birth year?”

She had stopped and faced him, looking up into his eyes with a plea for understanding in hers. “New genetics was our only choice. Unfortunately, fear made the COM choose their methods badly. Slavery had been ignored until then; we weren’t even part of the trade routes. Then we opened our doors to the flesh peddlers and it just went…”

“Out of control?”

“Yes. The corruption of owning others is amazingly powerful. People quickly become addicted to their power over a slave. Then it is only a matter of time before economy becomes dependent on it.”

“Regardless of how it grew and evolved, Hanna, it still started as the intent to buy intelligent beings for the purpose of rape and forced procreation. Isn’t that horror enough?”

“Yes,” she agreed, visible tears wetting her blue eyes in tandem with the hoarse catch of her voice. “It is. And I am afraid you think I am doing that to you.”

Vejhon sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth. He reached out for her, ignoring protocol and catching her arms so he could pull her close to his body where their joint heat provided mutual comfort for them.

“Hanna, I agreed to the terms you set and I don’t mind them. I thrill in being your lover. I will one day take great joy in fathering your children when we are ready for that. My trouble is that it isn’t all I can be. I need to be more. I need the right to be more.”

“But appearances,” she whispered. “I fear for your safety if you try to…”

“Fuck appearances,” he snapped irritably. “I know all about them. I know all about your fears, too, Hanna. And if you ask me you have far too many of them. For a woman of such power, you are amazingly submissive.”

Hanna felt as if she had been slapped in the face and she jerked back from his hold.

“Greetings, my Lady. May I be of assistance?”

Jhon and Hanna both jerked in surprise at the politely officious voice. They turned to see a stern-faced street sentry eyeing Jhon critically.

“Is this slave out of line, my Lady? I saw him grab you and thought to come to your assistance.”

Hanna turned to the sentry and did what she did best; she smiled and slid with perfect charm into the space between Jhon and the sentry. “Of course you did. So attentive to your duty!” she praised, making the man turn lilac around his neck. “But you needn’t worry. I am Master Drakoulous, and this is my slave. He is new, you see”—she offered with a broad wink—“and sometimes he craves my affections quite strongly. I’m afraid I encourage it. It is so…manly.” This last statement was delivered with a sensuous shivering of her body for emphasis.

“I see,” the soldier said, his pale blue eyes tracking down her body with obvious lasciviousness.

Jhon had to wrap a fist around the surge of fury that welled up inside of him. It was amazing how brightly it burned in his belly, almost as if he would radiate green light out of his mouth if he but opened it. Instead, he kept perfectly still and molded his expression out of the hardest stone.

“My Lady should discipline her slave better and perhaps pursue some of the after-hours social clubs that would cater to your needs for men like that,” he suggested with a chuckle.

“I will take that under advisement. Thank you so much,” she laughed. “Come Vejhon, we are late for the marketplace.”

“Enjoy the bazaar, my Lady,” the sentry said as he touched his hat in respectful farewell.

They walked on quietly for a long minute, Jhon swallowing back his impotent anger and Hanna cringing from how he was feeling. She had warned him how difficult it would be. It was only fair she gave him time to adjust, but another part of her couldn’t bear the idea of him ever adapting to the role of a subservient. It simply did not suit his soul.

Had she done him a terrible injustice binding him to her and this world? Oh, she knew that taking him off this world was impossible. He could only accompany his owner offworld, and no Masters were ever allowed offworld, as it was deemed both too dangerous and too inconvenient for the needs of the Chamber. What could she have done differently that would have made his existence more bearable?

Her guilty emotions were radiating back to her mate in waves and snatches, but he understood enough to know she was wracking her conscience over her choices, forgetting that he had made choices as well. She always took too much responsibility onto herself, he was realizing. She had enough to do, beginning with caring for her family, taming her sister, and being responsible for the entire future of her House. This hardly touched on the responsibilities she was weighted down with because she felt everything she had to do for the people she represented.

There had to be a middle ground in all of this, and Jhon realized it would be his responsibility to think of it. In fact, it needed to be his own solution, rather than one laid in place by her for him. She had already handed him enough. What he needed was to figure out a way to contribute to her House and her society…

…while playing the role of a slave.

That was the part that made him gag almost every time. He needed to reconcile it. He had sworn to her that he was a mature and well-practiced man who could comport himself with perfect control.

Realizing he was letting himself be too distracted with inner thoughts, Jhon focused on the road that was leading into the bazaar. It was a dark day, everything like deep night around them, except everything was brilliantly lighted around the colorful tents. The difference between the average streetlamps and those in the market was momentarily blinding, but Jhon adjusted quickly enough to catch up with Hanna as she began to browse tables, racks, and displays on rugs on the ground right from the moment she saw them. He stood close to her back, watching her as she touched and examined all sorts of things.

What she liked, of course, were things of unique art or art forms, handmade and painstakingly creative. She enjoyed praising the artists, many of whom knew her as a frequent patron. What was more, she remembered their names, the names of their families, and little personal details. Watching her make her way through the bazaar with people calling out, smiling at her and waving, some giving her free trinkets or flowers filled him with a sense of awe. She was by far the best politician Jhon had ever known. Regardless of her fears and flaws, she was always sincere and she worked in her world with her heart behind her actions. Vejhon realized that all of these people understood that. If her office had needed an election to obtain it, she would easily have earned her place.

He was back to taking pleasure in simply watching her walk. She took him on a wild ride through his own emotions, definitely in a way he had never experienced before, but she was proving to be worth the ride. When she beckoned him forward to a table he was already smiling at her because of the shine of excitement radiating from her vivid eyes.

“Look,” she said.

He did. He felt his entire body tense with…he had no idea what he was feeling as he stared down at the beautiful display of weaponry. Blades, blasters, and more, things he had no idea what they were but he quickly began to figure out how they were used. He reached to touch a slim stiletto in its hard, black lacquer sheath. The bejeweled stuff was ridiculous to him, but this blade was black and silver, slim and simple. He drew the knife and found the blade to be the thinnest metal he had ever seen. So thin it looked like it would snap at the slightest pressure. He glanced up at the merchant, who was chuckling.

“That is
frizzon
metal. It is the strongest metal in all the worlds. Also, easy to work with. You will be amazed. Go ahead, try to bend the blade on the table.”

Jhon did exactly that, expecting easy flexibility from something so thin. Instead, the unbending blade slid into the wood a half inch before he stopped to pull it out.

“Gods,” he swore, “this thin and strong, sharp besides? You could take it across a throat and leave your enemy talking for a minute before he realized it!”

“My Lady, your slave has a fine eye for weaponry. Would you care to purchase this for yourself now that you have his recommendation?”

Of course. A slave couldn’t be armed.

“Yes, my Lady,” he said quietly. “It is a perfect blade for a woman. Slim and easy to conceal. Excellent for your protection.”

Hanna watched him perform his part and felt her heart shattering. What had she been thinking, bringing him to a treasure of things he loved…that he could not have? Her impulse had been to please him, to give him the pleasure of seeing the fine weaponcraft on her planet.

“Excuse me,” she said softly.

Jhon watched her suddenly turn away and hurry away from him. He reset the blade in its sheath and handed it to the merchant. “It is truly a work of art, my Lord.”

“Thank you for saying so,” the merchant said with sincerity, even though he did not have to acknowledge a slave with such respect.

Vejhon turned to look for Hanna quickly, hurrying in the direction she had moved. He sought her clothing, but the place was crowded and the lights as they hit the verandas and tents threw just as many in shadow as they disclosed. He resisted calling her name and forced himself to pause and calm himself. He could track her anywhere. Her scent was imbedded in him bone deep. Even with such a mass of odors and trails of scent, he would be able to find her.

It struck him like a starburst, that familiar concoction of sex and chocolate, and it made him smile. She was moving quickly, in a ragged pattern because she was pushing through so many others. He followed at top walking speed, not quite running because he didn’t wish to attract attention. Stronger and stronger her trail grew, then dipped into one of the tent alleys. These were the rare partings of the fabric in a row of merchants. They opened into long strips of space between the back-to-back rows of tents in the bazaar street that the merchants used to travel behind the stalls and to store surplus inventory. Why she would travel such a route was completely beyond him, but he followed in spite of all of Najir’s warnings never to do so alone. He wasn’t going to let her stay out of his sight like this.

She actually leaped into his sight quite easily a minute later. He saw the flash of her white clothing first, and then the whip of her hair in the deep shadows cast by the two heavy tents she stood between.

Stop!

Vejhon obeyed simply because the command racing through his brain was like a shock. Then he saw the larger, darker forms closing in on Hanna. He honestly tried to remember everything Najir had tried to tell him, about how Hanna could defend herself, a fact he had seen firsthand. But the simple truth was that he didn’t have it in him to hold back, and the agony ripping through his chest and guts told him that he could never forgive himself if she got so much as a hair out of place because he hesitated to act.

He was, however, aware of the need for stealth. He could draw no attention to them or he would be risking his life and possibly Hanna’s. He moved with a speed that was part of the gifts she had given him to reach her, and he knew from that instant he would never bitch about the sacrifices he had been forced to make ever again. It was worth it. The instant his fight instinct was agitated the darkness seemed to lighten up, shapes and movement becoming much clearer. He was able to count quickly what the odds were.

Six to two.

Hmm.

Good odds.

The irreverent thought was pushed at Hanna and she turned to see him coming, ignoring her command to stop. He didn’t realize that these thugs weren’t after her. They were after him. Sure enough, as soon as they caught sight of him, they stopped the delaying taunting they had been using to keep her corralled among them and burst into instant action.