by Storm Chase
Sold!
A Romance in The Sudan
By
Storm Chase
Text Copyright @ 2012 Storm Chase
All rights reserved
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 9781301079117
Cover by Drew
Final editing by Julie Peate
With thanks to my brother Ian who is always ready to read "My Art",
and to Julie for her awesome proofreading and generous criticism.
Other books by Storm Chase
Wildcat in Moscow
Romance, action and suspense with Chelsea and Vladimir
Murder in Moscow
Romance, action and a murder mystery with Cassidy and Dmitri
Chocolate: An Erotic Romance in Siberia
With Star and Alexei
Lost Weekend: An Erotic Romance in Wales
With Micah and Bryony
The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kiev
With Max and Tony
The Mule: An Erotic Romance in Colombia
With Cleo and Connor
Blackmail Bride: An Erotic Romance in Scotland
With Lucy and Jack
Sold!
A Romance in The Sudan
Charlotte and Byron Erotica Romances
The Maid in the Cupboard
The Knight and the Damsel in Distress
The Musher and the Stringer
For news of new releases, please visit:
http://stormchasenovels.blogspot.com
http://www.goodreads.com/StormChase
Table of Contents
Chapter One Abduction
Chapter Two Auction
Chapter Three Transition
Chapter Four Fever
Chapter Five Seduction
Chapter Six Heaven
Chapter Seven Cross-purposes
Chapter Eight Trouble
Chapter Nine Hell
Chapter Ten Surrender
Chapter One
Abduction
Azure skies, gently ripping water and a deliciously warm sun. It should have been perfection but Lilly was blind with misery.
“Want a guide, Miss?” A young black boy smiled broadly at her. “My uncle is a priest at the Temple of Kalabsha. I can give you a special tour.”
“Thank you, no,” Lilly smiled automatically.
“Want to take a cruise? See the crocodiles? Catch Nile perch? My other uncle has the best boat on Lake Nasser. I can arrange something special for you!”
“No thanks!”
“Handicrafts? My aunt has a wonderful shop.”
Irritated by the tough sell, Lilly frowned and turned away without answering. She knew the boy was just trying to make a living. Her instinct was to give him some money but a nasty experience at Luxor where she’d almost been trampled by a horde of beggars demanding money had taught her to stifle any generous instinct.
Egypt was nothing like she had imagined. Lilly had marvelled at the pyramids at Giza and gawked at the Great Temple at Abu Simbel before becoming rapidly confused by the dozens of statues, tombs and temples, all of which were Treasures of the Ancient World.
She didn’t want to admit it but she was fed up with culture. Lilly no longer gave a toss about erections extolling the virtues of Mekhu, Sabni, Sarenput, Harkhuf, Hekaib or some other ancient king.
Erection. That is the real problem, Lilly’s secret self whispered slyly. If Ashton had been with you, it would have been different.
Ashton. Wonderful, tall, handsome Ashton. Ashton, who should have been here with her. Ashton, who should have been her husband.
But he didn’t want you, did he?
Lilly winced as inner voice reminded her of the scathing truth.
Her father had pounded it into her over the years that she should always show a smiling face. Turning the other cheek had been his favourite mantra. Lilly could govern her outer self perfectly but her inner self refused to be repressed.
Like it or not, the Lilly on the inside was right. Ashton had made it perfectly clear in the most publicly humiliating way that he didn’t want her.
Just thinking about Ashton made her stomach churn. Either that or it was the chicken rice she’d had for lunch. It had seemed OK at first but she’d realised halfway through the meal that those little dark crunchy things hadn’t been raisins but pieces of a large dead cockroach.
Just thinking about it made her nauseous. Surely she would be sick again? She’d thrown up twice already. There just couldn’t be anything left in her stomach. Or could there?
Feeling dizzy and sick, Lilly spotted a large rock lying a few meters off the path. She made her way to it but the moment she sat down, she felt sweat drench her body. Her stomach knotted ominously.
“Oh God! Please not here and not now,” Lilly moaned. She’d had the runs in Cairo as well as Luxor. These episodes had turned her into an unwilling expert in diarrhoea.
Looking through the trees she realised she’d wandered farther than she had meant to. She couldn’t see the hotel anymore. Worse, the sun was beginning to set. It would be dark soon. She had to get back.
As her stomach knotted, Lilly groaned. She pushed herself away from the rock. She had to get back to the hotel. If she ran, she might make it. Her stomach muscles clenched. Maybe it would be better to find a bush - just in case.
Groaning, Lilly stumbled along the path, totally heedless to the fact that she was heading in the wrong direction. The path ended suddenly. Bewildered, Lilly looked around. She was standing at the curve of the lake. In the distance she spotted the gleaming white walls of her hotel.
“Oh... SUGAR!” The second she said it, she felt stupid. “Grow up, Lilly!” she whispered fiercely. “Not sugar. Shit. This is definitely a time where you can swear.” Anyway, it wasn’t like anyone could hear her. The lakeside was deserted.
She estimated the hotel to be two or three kilometres away. In her state, it would take her the best part of an hour to make it back and the sun was setting rapidly. She was certainly in a mess. Another vicious cramp made her squeal and bend over her stomach protectively. She vaguely noticed that she’d dropped her handbag but was too weak to pick it up.
Another cramp brought her to her knees. “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!” The swearing helped. Breathing carefully, Lilly waited for the cramp to pass. When it did, she would force herself up and run to the hotel.
Lilly breathed, willing the cramps to go away. Gradually she felt calmer. As her muscles relaxed, she became aware of the gentle lapping of water, of singing in the distance and of the insects buzzing about.
The lapping of the water was particularly soothing. Feeling better, Lilly relaxed a little and looked up. Two meters in front of her, lying half out of the water, his tail gently setting the water rippling, was the most enormous Nile crocodile she had ever seen.
Lilly froze. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard her inner self say, “See what happens when you sin? You said shit and now you’re in it.”
As if it heard her inner bitch, the crocodile raised its head. It looked Lilly straight in the eye, opened its mouth and coughed.
Lilly was off like the bullet from a starting gun. She scrambled backwards, somersaulted and ran pell-mell along the shore of the lake.
She had never been much good at school sports but this time she could have outrun Usain Bolt.
Frantic for help, she spotted a boat lying on the shore. She made for it, convinced that if she slacked for a moment or looked behind her, the beast would get her.
As she raced for the boat, she could see two men. They were fishing. Lilly threw herself into the boat causing both of them to yell in fright.
“Croc... crocodile,” Lilly gasped. The sw
eat ran into her eyes. She couldn’t see. But she could hear the men’s gasps of surprise. An exchange of words she didn’t understand, followed by the roar of an engine. To her relief the boat began to move rapidly.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” Lilly gasped. “I was so afraid. I thought it was going to get me.”
Lilly sat up cautiously and looked around her. The two fishermen were grinning at her. They were Nubians, both with the same beautiful bone structure as the ancient statues dotted all around Abu Simbel.
As they grinned and looked her over, there was something about their smiles that struck Lilly as wrong. She smiled tentatively, “Could I possibly ask you for a lift back to the hotel?”
From their looks they didn’t understand a word she was saying. Looking over her shoulder, Lilly saw her hotel vanish in the distance. Fighting down a rising feeling of panic, she pointed urgently behind her.
“That is my hotel! Can we go there? To the hotel?” The men grinned at her but they didn’t change course. Lilly pointed again. The sun was setting rapidly, making it hard to see.
When she turned back to the men, she was surprised to see that one of them had picked up a rifle. Before she could think or move, he swung the weapon at her. She felt it knock the middle of her chin. It felt like a tiny knock but as it connected, she felt herself black out.
Her last thought, as she faded away, was that her stomach wasn’t bothering her anymore. It wasn’t as big a relief as it might have been.
Chapter Two
Auction
Hafiq decided that if anywhere could be nominated the armpit of Africa, it was Atbara.
His two-day trip had turned into a week. He was bored, wearing his last clean shirt and completely out of bottled water. That morning he’d hesitated before brushing his teeth with Coke but the brownish trickle from the tap convinced him that tooth decay was preferable to risking the water.
“Boss!” Ali, his local contact, was standing on the pavement, grinning up at him. “The shipment has arrived. You ready?”
Finally! Hafiq looked at his watch. His case was packed and the bill paid. If he could wrap up the deal in the next hour, he could catch the midday express back to Port Sudan.
Ali was smiling happily. He knew Hafiq was edgy after a five-day wait. With a bit of luck, he would be so keen to get back to his home on the coast that, he would not be over-zealous about bargaining.
As they walked smartly along the road to the big warehouse at the edge of the town, Ali pondered that while money was short, time was free. If he played his cards right, he might be able to push for a 10% increase in price.
They skirted the market, dodging cattle and carts loaded with vegetables. An unusually large crowd was gathering around a low wooden platform. Loud cheers and raucous whistles made Hafiq pause. For a moment he didn’t believe his eyes.
It was a girl. She was wearing the remains of a ragged T-shirt and not much else. A pair of ripped Bermudas lay at her feet. Although she was covered with mud and dust, Hafiq could see patches of pink and white skin. Two men were holding her up; showing her to the crowd that had gathered.
Without thinking, Hafiq pushed his case into Ali’s hands and joined the crowd. Pushing his way through to the front, he took a good look at her. She was definitely white. And angry.
“Get the fuck off me!”
And English by the sound of her accent.
The auctioneer was trying to cut the t-shirt away with a knife while avoiding being kicked.
She was a brave girl, Hafiq noted. While the auctioneer hacked at her clothes, another man held on to a chain linked to a metal collar round her neck with one hand and to a rope halter that bound her elbows high and tight behind her back with the other. It must have hurt but she lashed out anyway.
Hafiq was overwhelmed by a wave of lust. He had sent Ngam packing three months ago. Beautiful, submissive, eager to please and very, very boring Ngam. In contrast, this girl oozed passion. Hafiq was certain she’d never be dull. He felt a powerful urge to possess her.
The knife finally did its work. The t-shirt ripped away, revealing perfect round breasts. Swearing furiously, the girl took her attention off the auctioneer and kicked backwards at his partner. She might as well have kicked an elephant for all the harm it did. Grinning, he lifted her up until she stood on her tiptoes, preventing her from kicking. The auctioneer took a cautionary step sideways but loudly continued to proclaim her charms.
“Untouched! A virgin! A bargain for any discerning buyer!” He spoke Arabic, the common language of commerce but his accent spoke clearly of his Nubian home in the north.
“How much?” Hafiq asked.
The auctioneer turned to him with a wide grin. “This girl is not for sale, boss!”
“Then why the sales pitch?”
“We are selling the girl’s favours! What would you pay to be her first?”
Hafiq laughed. “She? A virgin? If that’s so, she’s the only one in Atbara!”
The auctioneer giggled, an odd sound for such a big man. “It’s true! I swear it on my mother’s grave. We haven’t touched her, have we, Khalil?”
From the way the two men giggled, Hafiq realised they were homosexual. Instinctively he drew away, then realised the advantage of the situation. The girl would be unharmed.
“We don’t want her for ourselves,” the auctioneer leered, “and there isn’t enough money in all Atbara to buy a girl like this but we are businessmen! There will be many customers, each willing to pay to possess her for a little time.”
Hafiq looked at the girl again. She stood totally still, staring at him. For a moment he was confused by the look in her eyes. They were dark green, he noted. The way she was looking at him, it was like she was asking him for help.
Idris, the auctioneer, grinned as he took in Hafiq’s interest in the girl, his gold watch and finally the Vector SMG hanging from his shoulder. This was a man with money.
Idris rubbed his hands together in anticipation. It had been the impulse of a moment to take the girl after she been foolish enough to jump into his boat but the prospect of the money she could make for him was just too tempting. Now he was certain the gamble had been a good one.
It was impossible to sell a white girl in Egypt. While Atbara was a safe market, Idris was well aware that if he wasn’t careful, he and Khalil might find themselves on the block. They were strong and there was a pressing need for field workers in Sudan and the farmers weren’t fussy about using slave labour.
Idris and his partner, Khalil, had been prepared to hang around for a week or two in order to make a profit on this girl; if she lasted that long. However, if this man offered a reasonable price, Idris intended to take the money and hightail it back up the Blue Nile as fast as possible.
Hafiq vaulted into the makeshift platform. Up close the girl smelled terrible. Her hair was black with dirt and matted into huge knots but the roots shone through dark copper. Her skin would be creamy white if it hadn’t been covered in scrapes, bruises and insect bites. Looking at her, Hafiq realised she was exhausted and close to collapse.
He half expected her to kick him and was surprised when she swayed towards him, coming to rest up against his chest. Despite the smell, Hafiq couldn’t stop himself from putting an arm around her waist.
Used to exquisitely small oriental girls, Hafiq was surprised to feel her head resting on his shoulder. He could feel her breath on his neck. Instantly he was sure. He wanted this girl.
Worried his prize product was worming her way into a position where she could kick this prize customer in the balls, Idris quickly grabbed hold of the girl’s collar and signalled Khalil to hold her tightly.
Lilly sucked in her breath with pain as her elbows were lifted high, almost dislocating her shoulders.
“Let go!” Suddenly furious, Hafiq pushed Idris and Khalil away, wrapping his arms around Lilly protectively. “I’ll take her,” he said. Digging into his money belt he hauled out 10 crisp hundred-dollar bills and thrust them
into the auctioneer’s hands.
Idris gasped. It was more money than he’d seen in his entire life. “We have a sale!” he announced loudly. Quickly, before anyone could see how much money he had, Idris sketched a bow at Hafiq, signalled urgently to Khalil and disappeared.
Aware that the show was over, the crowd drifted away. The only person left was Ali, looking open mouthed at Hafiq.
“Look in my bag and give me a shirt!” Hafiq commanded.
His fingers couldn’t untie the rope knotted around her elbows so he carefully cut them through with his knife. He thought the girl had fainted but as he wrapped a shirt around her, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Amazingly, she smiled.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Her voice was soft and sweet now that she wasn’t screaming like a devil.
“You’ll be all all right,” Hafiq said soothingly. “Let’s get you out of this place, ok?”
“You speak English?”
Hafiq smiled at her obvious surprise. “One of my mothers was English.”
“One of your mothers?” Lilly thought she couldn’t have heard him properly.
“That’s right. Come on, now, on your feet.”
She tried to stand but her knees buckled under her. There was nothing for it, Hafiq decided. Filthy as she was, he would have to carry her.
He took her by the wrist, placed it over the back of his neck, squatted and with one smooth lift hauled her over his shoulders. She was a dead weight. Luckily it wasn’t far to the warehouse.
“Who are you?” she whispered in his ear.
For a moment Hafiq hesitated. Shades of his ancestors. With a chuckle he realised he now knew what his great grandfather, Zubayr Pasha, the man the world had dubbed Africa’s Slaver King, must have felt like. “I am your master,” he said lightly.
