Sex Slaves 03 Waiting for Dawn Page 17

  Borna seemed to sense the hostility that rushed through Dawn. “I despise what my people have done to the Ryclox solar system. I couldn’t do anything about Poltar.” She licked her lips, her dark eyes showing her sympathy, and something that looked like anger. “When they attacked Benox, I was there to help defeat them. It was there that I met Trent Dar.”

  Trent nodded. “Your actions were honorable. And your warrior skills noted.”

  Zahn offered a tilt of his head, indicating he knew of Borna’s past and agreed.

  “What do you mean you are on those chips?” Dawn asked, fighting to put her nightmares to rest.

  The past was done. All she knew now was Borna had given her the chips and told her to destroy them. She had to rely on that knowledge that Borna was not working with the Bortan.

  Borna stood slowly, and then reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a small knife. Trent straightened. He’d seen this woman in action, watched her fight by his side, and even save his good friend, Marc of Torin, while fighting on Benox.

  The woman fought for her own cause, her battle brewing deeper inside her than most. At the time, she’d posed as a simple farmhand, a person with no rank. Yet he and Marc of Torin had learned the truth about her, discovered that in fact she held one of the highest rankings a Bortan could carry. And she’d walked away from it.

  Her personal battles gave her a hard edge. It would take a lot to crack this woman. And as she stood there on the other side of the table, knife in hand, holding it in front of her, demons creased the lines around her eyes. She was a woman on a mission so huge, it could very easily destroy her. And at the same time, make her very hard to destroy.

  The side of the knife caught the light of the room, its silver edge glistening. Borna wouldn’t attack anyone. Trent sensed no aggression about her, but he was prepared if she made any hasty moves. Those chips would not leave his presence. In the wrong hands, they could mean the death of his solar system.

  Borna stuck her arm out and pulled up the sleeve. In front of all of them, she ran the blade over her flesh, slicing her arm. She winced, sucking in air. Dawn jumped to her feet while the pungent smell of fresh blood filled their nostrils.

  “What are you doing?” Dawn cried out, and grabbed the knife from Borna before the woman could stop her.

  “It’s okay,” Borna said through gritted teeth.

  Trent stood as well, reaching for a cloth that was folded next to the carafe of wine. He pressed the material on Borna’s arm. The woman made a face, her pain obvious. But then slowly pulled her arm away from his grasp.

  “By the gods,” Dawn said in disbelief, staring at the silver implants underneath Borna’s skin. “You’re a fucking Bortan.”

  “Yes,” Borna said, sitting down heavily.

  Dawn took the cloth from Trent and moved around the table, helping Borna to wrap the wound.

  “A drastic act to prove a needed point.” Zahn Corl sounded like he praised the woman for her act.

  “And if those chips are reproduced, and given to my people, you won’t be able to tell us from the Gren.” Her point settled heavily on the small group.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dawn had no idea that a homecoming meal entailed staying over at the host’s house. When her father had instructed his servants to show his guests to their rooms, she’d been ready to protest. Trent had given her a shrewd look, and with a slight squeeze of her hand had silently told her to accept the invitation.

  She hadn’t slept well at all, and now was more than grouchy. She’d hoped and prayed to the gods that Trent would come to her during the night, her body in agony. She needed him so badly, wanting him buried deep inside her, the pressure that had build the night before still not subsiding. Yet no one had come to her door.

  Too many times to count she’d thrown the heavy blankets off of her, slid over to the side of the bed that was way too large for one person to sleep in, and padded to the door. Once she’d even opened it, stepped out into the quiet hallway. No one had been in sight.

  The servants had escorted them to the far wing of the house, far away from where the Corl family slept, she’d been sure. Trent had been assigned a room down the hall from her, Borna in the room next to hers.

  Now, dressed and bathed, she stood in that hallway once again, wondering where Trent was. She wore the same dress she’d had on the night before, not having brought a change of clothing. Fingering the thick fabric, a sense of awkwardness ran through her, the urge to walk down the hall to Trent’s room enveloping her.

  Visioning him opening his door, sleep having left his hair tousled, she imagined pushing against his hard chest, entering the room while the door closed behind her. She wouldn’t have to say a word, simply run her fingertips up his broad shoulders. That hunger would be in his eyes. His powerful arms would be around her and carrying her to the bed without a word. Dawn ached to feel his hard cock pressed against her, throbbing, swelling with an eagerness to penetrate her.

  “Sleep well?” Borna asked from behind her.

  Dawn turned, startled out of her fantasy. “Sure,” she lied.

  “Me neither,” Borna said, giving no indication she’d just called Dawn a liar.

  The woman was dressed in Gren attire today, black Gren leather pants hugging her muscular legs and displaying her firm narrow waist. She’d donned a pullover black shirt that hugged her in all the right places showing off full, rather large breasts. Her hair was as black as Dawn’s and fell loose over her shoulders and down to her waist. It was still damp from bathing, giving it a glossy appearance.

  Borna gave her the once-over while Dawn did the same. The woman’s brown eyes traveled from her head, down to her toes, and then back up again. Dawn met her gaze.

  “You really could pass for Gren,” Borna said. “But those gray eyes…they are quite captivating. I can see what Trent sees in you.”

  “I’ve been told I’m beautiful all my life,” Dawn confessed, not meaning anything vain by the comment. “And I’m sure you’ve heard the same. Having someone see beyond the pretty face is what matters.”

  “Agreed.” Borna gestured with her head that Dawn follow her. “Zahn called for Trent early this morning. I wasn’t able to hear what they said to each other but they both left before the suns rose. Prel Corl controls the servants and since I’m sure she wishes neither of us were in her home, we’re going to have to fend for ourselves for food.”

  So Trent was gone. An emptiness swarmed through her that she’d never experienced before. There was no way of knowing if he’d left her for good, feeling she was safe at her father’s home, or if he intended to come back. His words on her ship clung to her while worry consumed her. Don’t ever take off without me again.

  Well, he had done just that. She wasn’t property. If he issued an order, he would follow the same rules, or there was nothing. Dawn shoved her worry out of the way, fought to stifle the panic that slowly tried to consume her. She’d be damned if she sat around looking pretty until Trent Dar decided to give her the time of day.

  “How is your arm?” Changing the subject could only help keep her mind off Trent.

  Dawn studied Borna’s arm, her long-sleeve shirt giving no indication that there might be a bandage underneath.

  “I’m fine.” Borna didn’t look like the type of woman who would complain about pain. “Let’s go find food. I’m starved.”

  Holding her head high, she followed Borna down the hallway, away from the direction of Trent’s room. Sweet-smelling ivy, its orange leaves adding color to the otherwise simple elevator, crawled from its pot and covered part of the wall.

  “Kitchen,” Borna said simply, and then the two stood in silence while the tiny box-like transporter lowered them to the main floor.

  A sense of sneaking into the master’s home rushed through her when Borna looked both ways after the doors opened silently and a grand hallway appeared. Without a word, she hurried down the back hallway, and Dawn followed silently.

  Da
wn actually felt more at home entering the kitchen through the servants’ entrance than she had the night before in the fancy hall where they’d dined. This room had an entirely different atmosphere from the rest of the house.

  A stone floor, covered with dried straw, muted the sound of her boots. Grease hung heavy in the air, while a mixture of herbs from a nearby drying closet tickled her senses with memories of home.

  “What you need?” an overweight servant asked, her non-blinking black eyes narrowing on the two of them.

  “We missed breakfast. And any of the gossip would be fine to go along with it.” Borna spoke like they were old friends, although Dawn doubted the two knew each other.

  With a huff, the woman turned around and then dropped a pan of biscuits onto the counter in the middle of the room. A couple of young girls came in from a side door, bringing the cool morning air in with them. Their chatter stopped when they saw Borna and Dawn.

  Borna grabbed a couple of stools and pulled them to the counter indicating Dawn should take one of them. She reached for one of the biscuits and ripped it in two.

  “Don’t stop your talk on our account,” she said to the girls with her mouth full.

  Dawn hadn’t had an appetite the night before and now was famished. She picked up one of the biscuits, which almost flaked apart in her hand. Taking a bite she was surprised at how good it tasted, and quickly stuffed some more in her mouth.

  “This is good,” she told the cook, knowing it had always gotten her points at home when praising the cook’s work.

  “What do you two want?” The cook pointed a large ladle at them, wagging it back in forth between the two of them. “We won’t be saying a word around you that might cause us trouble. This is good work. None of us plan on messing up a paying job.”

  Borna held her hands up in a sign of surrender. “You know surely that if we held any weight with the lady of the house, we’d have dined with her this morning. And don’t tell me that you don’t already know we barely match your rank.”

  The cook was quiet for a moment, taking in what Borna had just said. Dawn knew that it hadn’t been too long ago when she didn’t come close to the rank of the cook. A slave had no clout whatsoever. And she knew if this House of Corl was anything like the Ryl Plantation, the house servants knew more about what was going on, oftentimes faster than the master did.

  “There’s wine in the cooler if you’re thirsty,” she told them, turning back to her work.

  Being offered free rein in the kitchen was always a good sign that you were accepted. Dawn stood, turning toward the large door in the wall, and pulled it open, finding a large jug half full of the sweet wine they’d been served the night before. She would have preferred water, but knew on Greneen that was a commodity. She brought the wine to the counter. One of the girls shyly brought over a couple of cups, watching her carefully.

  “What was it like being a sex slave?” she asked shyly, only to receive another huff from the cook who didn’t bother to turn around.

  “It was terrible,” Dawn answered honestly, seeing the curiosity in the two girls’ eyes.

  “Did you have to have sex with a lot of different men?” the other girl asked, looking like the idea of having sex with any man appealed to her.

  “They tried to make me,” Dawn told her. “But I fought them so much that I think they got tired of beating me. For the most part I just got ignored.”

  Within the next few minutes, Dawn had a handful of servants surrounding them at the counter as she shared experiences of her life on Ryl Plantation. Even the cook brought over drippings from one of the pans and more biscuits while the lot of them enjoyed the small feast and listened, all full of questions.

  “So when did you find out that your father was Zahn Corl?” one of the servants asked, after the jug of wine and most of the biscuits were almost gone.

  “I take it all of the chores are done for the morning?” Zook Corl leaned in the doorway to the kitchen, glaring at the lot of them.

  “Party’s over,” Borna mumbled, hopping off the stool.

  She tugged at Dawn’s sleeve.

  Dawn’s heart pounded in her chest at the sudden interruption from the oldest son of the house. A sudden hush fell on the room, and then all servants began scurrying, hurrying to get to whatever task was assigned to them, and vacated the room before they got in trouble.

  Dawn followed the Bortan woman outside, the cool air refreshing after breathing in the grease-filled warm air in the kitchen. Greneen had a thin sky, with trees everywhere. The small planet was so different from Poltar, its air heavy and cold. She was grateful for the weight of the fabric for blocking some of the cold that wrapped around her.

  “Were you able to get some medicine to treat your arm?” she asked, not sure what else to say to the woman, but not wanting to be left alone.

  Dawn definitely felt like she was on enemy ground here.

  “I’m fine.” Borna continued to walk away from the house, seeming to know where she was going.

  Dawn followed, not having anything else to do. Glancing around, she realized they were on the back side of the house. They reached the side and continued their trek along a well-kept path. The house was large, and the shadows cold, but her attention was sidetracked with reaching the front of the house. It didn’t surprise her when they did that Trent’s carrier was gone. She couldn’t believe he would just leave her there. Another carrier was parked there and she guessed it belonged to Borna.

  “Leaving us already?” Zook spoke up from behind them.

  Dawn turned, staring into the face of the young man. Outside, with no hard glances warning her to behave, he didn’t intimidate her. Although taller, he didn’t have the powerful frame of Trent. Still a boy, but struggling to be a man, he straightened, his gaze not faltering.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked, more curious to hear his answer than to challenge him.

  “It doesn’t matter to me either way if you stay or if you go.” He was lying although managed to keep his expression almost neutral.

  Dawn sensed something about him though, some kind of morbid curiosity she felt inclined to explore. After all, this was her half-brother.

  “How long have you known about me?” she asked.

  “We were told only yesterday,” he answered without hesitating.

  “Must have come as quite a shock.” She turned, realizing Borna hadn’t stopped, and hurried to catch up.

  Zook followed behind her. “How long have you known my father was your father?” he asked.

  “I’ve always known,” she told him, remembering the exact day her mother had told her, but not wanting to share the intimate moment that had given her so much hope, with this man who scorned her.

  It had been early in the morning, and she remembered when her mother had returned to the small cottage that they shared with several other slaves from Ryl Plantation. Dawn knew the routine of drawing bathwater for her mother and that morning hadn’t been much different. She’d filled the tub in the corner of the cottage just like her mother liked it and had it nice and steamy when she’d entered the cottage, naked, with handprints on her body.

  It wasn’t an unusual sight. And her mother’s state never seemed to bother her. Men would fondle her, use her as they wished, have her do all kinds of things, and her mother had never complained. If anything, she seemed to take pride in who she was. It was a trait that Dawn had admired and at the same time scorned. Her mother had no desire to be anything other than what she was, property to be used as the master saw fit. It was her mother’s peaceful contentment with life that Dawn had never mastered.

  “This is what we’re bred to do,” she had told Dawn in one of her many efforts to try and get her daughter to succumb to her life as a sex slave.

  That particular morning her mother had been glowing when she returned to the cottage, all smiles and almost dancing her way inside the small room.

  “I saw your father last night,” she’d said while te
sting the water with her toes.

  Dawn had almost dropped the dish of soap. “I have a father?”

  She’d never thought about it, never given any thought to who might have sired her. The children of the slaves ran freely among all of the adults, little concern given as to who had planted the seed, or who had birthed them. None of that mattered since they would be sold, or taken to the house as soon as they reached the age where they could fuck.

  Her mother’s grin had been full of mischief as she sank into the steaming water. “You can’t say anything,” she’d whispered. “The master doesn’t want you to know. But your father is a very important man. He isn’t a slave like us.”

  Dawn hadn’t understood. She’d taken her mother’s words to memory, but at that moment they had meant nothing. It had been months, maybe years later, when she’d heard about him again. That time it had been after one of the encounters she’d had with the master. She’d been young, barely a teenager, and had fought the master’s first attempt to have sex with her.

  “I can’t believe you slapped him,” her mother had said through tears, the women around her trying to comfort her after she’d been whipped.

  The master hadn’t punished her but her mother. “Spread your legs and show me how well you can fuck and your mother won’t suffer.”

  Dawn had thrown up before she’d been able to give in. The other slaves hadn’t talked to her for at least a week after that.

  “You’ve got too much of your father’s blood in you,” one of the other slaves had scolded, before her mother had told the woman to shut up.

  “Who is my father?” Dawn had asked, but no one would answer her.

  Later that night, lying in bed next to her mother and doing her best not to touch her so that she wouldn’t hurt her after she’d been whipped, her mother had told her.