by Sue Lyndon
Eventually, the human woman was led off the slave block by a huge Kall male who emerged from the crowd. Her new master, and judging by the dark gleam in his eyes, he wouldn’t be a particularly kind master either. A few tears escaped to roll down Layla’s cheeks. This was horrible.
She witnessed auction after auction, watching men and women being sold off in the square of Sumlin District. Her throat burned and her tears kept coming.
A noise behind her startled her, and she spun around at the sound of a throat being cleared.
General Zamek stood before her, wearing his Kall uniform, a sword hanging from his weapons’ belt, as well as a few knives. No ax this time. She supposed that was only reserved for battles. Or executions. She shivered at the memory of him looming over her on the white tarp.
He shot a brief glance at the viewscreen and his face softened.
“You shouldn’t be watching this, human,” he said, heading for the control panel. He pressed a button and the viewscreen went back to normal, showing a landscape view of the valley and mountains.
“It’s so terribly cruel,” she said, wiping at her tears.
“It’s not as cruel as you think,” he replied in an infuriatingly unapologetic tone.
She spun on him. “How can you say that?”
“Only those convicted of grave crimes in a Kall court are sold at auction. It’s better than being sentenced to death, and not all masters are cruel. Some masters treat their slaves as well as they treat their servants.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Some masters,” she said, “but not all.”
“Layla,” he said, grasping her upper arms, “I have purposely delayed leaving my warship because I didn’t wish for you to see the auction. Had I realized you knew how to manipulate the viewscreen, I would have locked it down.” He sighed. “I will need to take you to the slave office in Sumlin before we venture to my home. You must be registered as a slave and fitted with a tracker.”
Her heart broke. She’d known this day would come, but her heart still broke. She realized General Zamek didn’t have many options when it came to her, but surely there had to be a way to get around officially registering her as a slave.
“How-how did we get here so fast? I thought we had about two more weeks of travel?” Her stomach clenched. She’d really been counting on those two weeks. She felt as though she’d been tossed into freezing cold water without warning, and no shore in sight.
“One of the Verrsuans we rescued—Amorrga—told us about a new artificial wormhole the Corrtass recently installed along the border between sectors 39 and 40. We were able to barter for passage through the wormhole, thus shortening our travels considerably.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient. I am sure you’re eager to get that tracker in my arm and chain me to your bed.”
He released one of her arms and pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture that looked very human, and gave her an exasperated look. “You needn’t be so dramatic, Layla.” His eyes darkened. “But if you like being chained up, that can easily be arranged. Now, come. You must get dressed.”
Chapter 20
Zamek guided Layla into the closet and selected a plain gray dress for her to wear, the garment specifically created for today’s trip into town. It was nicer than a slave could be expected to wear, but it wasn’t lavish enough to draw attention at the slave office.
To his relief, she didn’t balk at the dress. She obediently put it on, as well as the leggings and a pair of soft sandals he provided.
If he thought she would agree to become his wife, he might march straight to the local council building and demand a license for their marriage be approved. But human courting customs were different from those of his people. Humans usually dated their potential mating partners for a long time before considering marriage. Months, even years in some cases, or so he’d heard. It all struck him as very strange.
She likely wouldn’t say yes, though he supposed he could force her, just as he was forcing her to become his mistress—a title of which she didn’t seem very fond. Perhaps he ought to stop using it and call her his companion, or something similar. Lover?
But there was no guarantee the Sumlin District council would approve his request immediately, and he would have a better chance if he knew how Commander Edek had managed it. As soon as could be arranged, he wished to speak with Edek and learn how the male got the council to approve his marriage to Betsy Carson. Then he could explore the possibility of taking Layla as his wife.
How long would they have to know one another until she agreed to marriage? While he knew he could force her, the idea of dragging her before a Holy One and compelling her to repeat marriage vows didn’t sit right with him. Such an act would only breed resentment in her.
He watched as the little human female straightened her dress and inspected her appearance in the mirror, smoothing her hands through her dark, wavy locks.
“I-I just woke up,” she said, catching his eyes in the mirror. “Could I please have a bit more time to get ready?”
“Of course,” he replied. “I don’t want to leave the Tammusha until the auction is long over. I’ll have my servant bring breakfast soon, as well. We have a long day ahead of us and you’ll need your strength.”
After eating a quick breakfast and leaving Layla to finish getting ready, Zamek strode down the corridors, heading for the hangar to ensure his airship was ready and that Shessema’s body had been brought aboard. Though the town of Sumlin was within eyesight, it was quite far away and not easily accessed from the warships’ landing platform, making airship travel to and from the platform a necessity.
As soon as he departed on his airship with Layla, Commander Vavvis would take the Tammusha to its official station in nearby Brutt District, which was a much larger district than Sumlin, where most of his warriors lived.
Zamek found himself looking forward to the downtime that came after victory. All the commanders and warriors under his command would also enjoy a full moon cycle of rest before returning to training.
After reaching his personal airship and confirming that the pilot was ready for takeoff at Zamek’s convenience, he joined his crew members on the bridge for his farewell address, a custom that made him uneasy, as he didn’t enjoy public speaking, but he kept it short and made sure to praise his crew members and warriors for their loyal devotion to Kall interests.
Once that task was completed, he made to leave the bridge, only for Commander Vavvis to block his path.
“Is there something you wanted, Commander?” Zamek asked, still on edge after his last encounter with Vavvis.
“A private word.”
“The last time you asked for a private word,” Zamek replied, keeping his voice low so only Vavvis could hear, “it did not turn out so well for you.”
The commander smirked. “I am willing to take the risk.”
With a sigh, Zamek gestured for Vavvis to follow him out into the corridor. The halls were crowded with warriors and they were forced to walk for some time until an alcove at the end of a corridor provided a private place to speak.
“Many more of our warriors have approached me and asked about your human captive,” Vavvis said. “Word has spread quickly that not only is she still alive, but she’s staying in your quarters rather than the brig.”
Annoyance flared inside Zamek, and before he could respond, Vavvis continued.
“But there’s also been a rumor circulating on the ship that you are planning to exact your retribution in the main training room for all the warriors to witness.”
“What?” Zamek was horrified by the very idea. “Who started this rumor?”
“I am not certain,” the commander said. “Is-is there any truth to it?”
“No,” Zamek replied firmly, protectiveness for Layla rising in him like a storm, ready to destroy anyone who threatened his female.
His female. His.
At some point, he’d started to think of Layla as belonging to him.
“What is it?” Zamek said.
“That is all, General, I simply wished to ascertain whether there was any truth to this rumor.” Vavvis glanced into the corridor. “I must return to the bridge now and prepare for our eventual departure for Brutt District.” He gave Zamek a deep nod. “Serving with you during the war against Earth, as well as the battle against the Bexxanian warbird, has been an honor. It is my hope that we will serve together in the future.”
Zamek doubted the sincerity of Vavvis’s words, but he returned the deep nod and bid the commander farewell. Generals didn’t serve on the same warship during every mission or war, but rotated between vessels, depending on where their leadership was most needed.
During the next mission into space, it was possible Zamek would serve on another warship from Brutt District or even a ship from a district on the other side of planet Kall. The High Council determined the placement of generals, though Zamek secretly hoped he would remain with the fleet of Brutt District for some time. Not just for the convenience of being close to his home in Sumlin, but because Brutt warriors were among the fiercest and most loyal on the entire planet.
Which might explain the rumors and apparent bloodlust concerning Layla. His warriors were outraged on his behalf, believing Layla had grievously wronged him. Most probably thought she was affiliated with the human rebels. But even so, her late husband’s sins legally belonged to her, decreed so by a Kall court. In his warriors’ eyes, Layla might as well have been the one to wield the knife against Shessema.
He stepped out into the corridor and quickly became uneasy by how crowded it was, warriors rushing by, likely to complete reports and attend debriefings before they reached Brutt District and could join their families.
He frowned at the thought of leading Layla through this horde of warriors. All eyes would be on them as they walked to the hangar, which was located on the other side of the ship from his quarters. He doubted any of his warriors would be so bold as to strike out at Layla, but it was a risk he could not take.
But if his warriors legitimately believed he intended to torture Layla once he brought her to his home? The rumors would stop and their concern would turn elsewhere.
Time. He needed more time. Time to safely hide Layla away, time to plan his trip to the local council building and demand a marriage license, assuming the stubborn human eventually agreed to become his wife.
A plan formed in his mind, one that Layla wouldn’t like. One she would regard as cruel, even if he explained his reasons. With a growl, he stalked to the brig, intending to retrieve an item necessary for his plan.
Curse Verrsuan traders and curse the Corrtass Empire and curse artificial wormhole technology.
Layla paced in front of the viewscreen, impatient for Zamek’s return, but also dreading it. Because as soon as he got back, they were leaving for Sumlin, where he intended to take her straight to the slave office.
She ran a hand through her hair and considered all she knew about the Custom of Retribution. Her stomach twisted and she felt nauseous while recalling some of the finer details of the practice.
Technically, Zamek was supposed to turn her body over to Kall authorities after he finished her off, or whatever was left of her. Not that he would hurt her like that—she was starting to trust him, and she no longer feared he would kill her. He’d made it perfectly clear that he wished to keep her.
But even if he made her a slave, wouldn’t Kall authorities eventually question his actions? It was a gray area, and it made her nervous.
The door zipped open and General Zamek strode into the room, a look of purpose about him. He was still wearing his full Kall uniform, and he was still armed, but he was also holding a pair of iron manacles.
She took a step back. “General?”
“We must leave now,” he said, his tone urgent. “I’m sorry, Layla, but this must be done. Come here and give me your hands.”
She hadn’t minded the plain dress that was clearly meant to make her appear more as a slave—honestly, after he’d destroyed her shirt, she felt lucky to be provided with any clothing—but manacles? Her heart sank.
“No,” she said, lifting her chin. “I will not wear those.”
“I don’t recall giving you a choice, human.” His visage hardened.
She thought of the auction she’d just watched, of the poor slaves who’d been naked and bound with manacles just like the ones Zamek held in his hands. Didn’t he realize how this made her feel? Like he saw her as less than a person.
He sighed and headed directly for her, but she bolted for the bathroom. His door had a lock and she intended to use it.
Satisfaction spread through her when she clicked the lock into place before he reached the door. With a resounding snarl, he banged on the door a few times.
“Layla,” he said in a warning tone, “you will open this door now.”
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe I will. Not until you throw those manacles away.” Most doors on Kall ships could be opened with a verbal command, assuming you had proper clearance to enter a particular room, but she’d recently noticed the bathroom door in Zamek’s quarters looked rather outdated. Apparently, she was right. If he could’ve opened it with a verbal command, he would’ve done so already.
“Layla, you’re the Kall expert here,” he said. “Surely you must understand the importance of appearances. I’m doing this to protect you.”
Tears blurred in her eyes. Fuckkk. Yeah, he probably thought he had good reasons to put the manacles on her. But what about change? What about working that gray area to his advantage? There had to be a way for her to stay on his planet without being led through Sumlin in manacles and having to receive a tracker.
Maybe she wanted too much. Aunt Colleen used to tell her that. You can’t always have the moon and all the stars in the sky, dear, sometimes you have to choose. Just the moon today. Or just a few stars tomorrow. But you can’t have everything all the time. It simply isn’t possible.
Layla had never really understood what Aunt Colleen was talking about until now. Maybe she needed to endure the manacles, just to keep peace with the general, and also to protect herself. Appearances.
And maybe she needed to accept her place as his mistress. What more could she hope for, when freedom clearly wasn’t an option? She shuddered at the idea of being captured by Kall forces and brought before a Kall courtroom once more, should she ever set foot on Earth again.
Mistress. She wasn’t a particular fan of the word and how it made her feel—dirty and used and undervalued. It made her feel like a whore, and it made her yearn for something more that she was almost too afraid to admit.
She thought about Betsy and her marriage to Commander Edek and how happy Betsy claimed they were, and a surge of jealousy and longing rushed through her.
Kall didn’t court one another like humans did. There was no dating. Marriages were arranged or occurred out of convenience, and the general hadn’t mentioned marriage once to her, even though in his culture they moved fast in this regard.
It was a silly thought to entertain, because they’d known each other for such a short time, but she would rather be his wife than his slave/mistress.
Commander Edek had married Betsy, despite Betsy being his slave, and they also lived in Sumlin District. It had to be possible. It had to. Yet Zamek hadn’t breathed one word of marriage to her, and her heart abruptly sank. Maybe he couldn’t envision her as his wife, maybe she really was less in his eyes, a human who was fit to warm his bed but nothing more.
Was she a fool to hope for too much?
The moon and all the stars?
“Layla, if you don’t open this door immediately, I will punish you.”
She backed away from the door, torn by indecision and also angered by his threat. Didn’t he realize how furious and vulnerable she felt at this moment?
Snap! The door handle twisted
and broke off, clattering to the floor. A second later, General Zamek pushed inside, his face a mask of fury.
He set the manacles down on the sink and reached for her.
“General, wait. Please. I’ll wear the manacles. Just put them on me.” She tugged at his grip, but he wouldn’t release her.
“You had your chance, little human, and now you must pay the price for your defiance.” He bent her over the sink and immediately began gathering her dress up to her waist.
Her heart raced and she tried to escape, but he pressed a firm hand to her lower back, holding her in place. The edge of the sink was rounded and didn’t cut into her stomach, but it still wasn’t the most comfortable position.
“No, please!” she cried when he tugged her leggings and panties down. “General, stop!”
He didn’t listen. Instead, he cupped her left cheek and gave it a firm squeeze.
“Planet Kall is nothing like Earth,” he said, leaning over her and speaking directly into her ear. “You must obey me without question. Someday your life might depend on it. Now, you know very well that I’ve already bucked tradition by not killing you. What you likely don’t realize is that I’ve already drawn attention for it. My own warriors have questioned my actions. All I want is to get you safely to my home, far from prying eyes and wagging tongues. I won’t risk you being taken away from me. You. Are. Mine.”
She sniffled, feeling wretched. She’d had no idea his warriors were questioning their relationship. The manacles were starting to make sense now. The general intended them as a safety measure. If she wore manacles and looked more like a slave, particularly an unhappy one, then his warriors and anyone else might assume he had nefarious plans for her, namely enslavement and torture.
“You will never run from me again, human,” he said, giving her right cheek an ominous squeeze. “Nor will you lock yourself in a room to escape me. Not unless you want a very red, very sore little bottom.”
