The Bid (3 page)

When the wall to his left gave off a soft pneumatic hiss, drew back an inch, and then slid open about four feet to the right, it revealed something a little different than he had been expecting, but no less contemptible.

A couple. One a male, a large fair-haired man built like a soldier…built like Vejhon himself. His skin was a smooth tan, dark enough to indicate a great deal of time spent out-of-doors, the tone just uneven enough to show that it wasn’t a racial coloration. His stride was confident, his eyes immediately fixing on Vejhon in watch of whatever potential threat he might pose. It was a look Vejhon was quite familiar with, having trained it into soldier after soldier over time. He couldn’t help but be a little impressed by that wariness. After all, here he was tethered hand and foot to a stone wall, naked and weaponless, where most people would dismiss him as non-threatening. But he could see quite clearly that this other warrior was taking nothing for granted and he wasn’t about to trust his captive in the slightest.

As for the woman…

She closed the door with a brisk wave of a hand over a hidden sensor and crossed over to him without any hesitation or fear. She made a subtle gesture and her giant companion stopped where he was, taking a watchful stance as she moved to stand before Vejhon at a minimum of arm’s length. Had his hands been free, he could have reached out and grabbed her around her delicate little neck.

After months of having strangers assess his flesh in a careless and dismissive manner, it was actually very noticeable a difference when he realized she looked nowhere but into his eyes. She was just a few inches shy of about six feet tall, he guessed, but since he was nearly seven feet tall himself it still made her seem small to him. She wore an arresting crimson-colored gown that was very close to being sheer as it clung to a noticeably generous shape. She was slender without being too slim, the fabric of her dress swaddling round hips and ass, and high, proud breasts that would easily fill a large man’s hands.

Perhaps he assessed her body first because of a subconscious need to bring her down to his level of exposure, but it didn’t take him long to become intrigued by the other things about her that were so markedly different. First, there was the long cord of her hair. It came over her shoulder and was banded with gemmed clasps once every six inches or so for nearly the entire length of her height. It was also the most amazingly pure black he had ever seen. Like a sleek Surrey eel, it caught light and gleamed, equal to the adornments that confined its length. The women of Vejhon’s homeworld, just like the men, were all fair. Blond to white, at most red to the lightest of browns. He had never seen a woman with black hair before.

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 lower 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.