"What's he like?” she asked. “Cade, I mean."
Surah smiled, sitting back. “Inventive, single-minded, has a bit of a temper."
Laughing, Anneliese drank down half the ale then reached for another nut. She hadn't realized how hungry she'd been—the tray was almost empty.
"I'd best be getting back,” Surah said. “Pol becomes surly when he feels he's being ignored."
A flare of panic straightened Anneliese's back. “Wait,” she cried, “you haven't finished your drink."
Surah refilled Anneliese's mug and set the empty pitcher upon the tray. “Don't worry about the tab."
Anneliese stared at the older woman. She hadn't considered that there might be a charge. “Can you at least tell me where Cade is? I need to speak with him."
Amusement crossed Surah's face. She got to her feet. “Well, usually the games are closed to non-players, but I'm sure they'll make an exception for you. Below the balcony, just to the left of that staircase, there's a tunnel leading back. Go ahead and take your drink."
Then, tray in hand, Surah walked away.
Anneliese narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the passage Surah had indicated. Darkness showed beneath the staircase. Behind her, another roar came from the stage. Barbarians! She picked up the heavy mug, leaving the table.
The tunnel was narrow, the wall rough. Like a cave, she realized suddenly—the lounge was nothing more than a renovated cavern. She wiped her hand against her bodice, stepping into the passage. Noise cut off as if she'd slammed a door.
"Cade?” she called, her voice wavering.
Ale sloshed onto her hand. Ahead, a faint glow marked the tunnel's end. Anneliese hesitated. Words echoed through her thoughts: Cade telling her to wait at the table, Surah saying that non-players weren't allowed. She took a large gulp of the ale. Shaking back the weight of her hair, she continued down the corridor.
A cheer rose as Anneliese stepped into the gaming room. She froze, heart pounding, and then realized the excitement was directed elsewhere. Pressing against the wall, she edged away from the entrance. A man turned, looking at her. Anneliese took a quick swallow from her glass.
Dimness held the room—the only light came from multi-colored bars rimming the edges of the tables. Faces hovered over them, appearing ghostly and rapt. The players held luminescent cards. They slapped the cards onto the tabletops, cheering when their colors changed to match that of the light bars.
"You appear a bit out of place.” The man moved closer.
Anneliese looked away. Where was her husband?
The man motioned with his drink. “Rantobi is a game of skill. Body heat and the force of the drop influence the colors of the cards. Of course, one never knows when the table will turn. I can show you how it's done."
Anneliese inched along the wall. His breath tickled her face. “I'm with someone,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
"Pity.” He stroked her hair.
Revulsion rose like bile in her throat. Her eyes darted about the room. Then, at a back table, she glimpsed her husband.
"Excuse me,” she said, hurrying into the crowd.
Another shout circled the room then dropped back into a pervading murmur. Anneliese clutched her drink with both hands, trying not to spill it. Cade would take care of her, she told herself. He'd simply lost track of time. As soon as he saw how miserable she was, he'd rush to make amends.
Cade stood with his back to her, slapping his cards one by one onto the table. He was obviously engrossed in the game, oblivious to the entourage of people gathered about him, unaware of her.
A pang of jealousy robbed her of thought. She stared at him in silence, memorizing his stance against the table, the caress of his fingers upon each card, his eyes half-opened in an ecstasy of concentration. Was this why he had come to this planet?
Then, Prin looked up. “Hello, beauty."
Cade's shoulders stiffened. He turned. “What are you doing here?"
Retorts filled Anneliese's head—I was worried, I was lonely, I was about to ask you the same question—but something Surah had said stuck in her mind, and she told him, “I become surly when I feel I'm being ignored."
Cade's eyes flashed a warning. He set down his cards, then drew her a step away. “Lisa, you can't stay here. This room is only for players."
"Do you have any idea how long you've been away?” she asked.
"I know. I've had a bad run, but I'm sure I can break even."
Anneliese felt her resolve soften beneath his gaze. “But I want to be with you. Let's go back to the Resort."
"Just a little more time."
His final word echoed in her ears. She lifted her chin. “No. This is our honeymoon. You will attend to me."
Cade's mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. “And will there be anything else, your highness?"
"Don't call me that!"
"Enough! Go back to the lounge. I'll be there when I'm through.” Turning his back, Cade returned to the table.
Anneliese blinked in utter amazement. Sound rose and ebbed around her. Cade's friends chuckled as if at a joke.
Sudden rage swelled Anneliese's body. She shoved her way to Cade's side, raising the mug of ale overhead.
"I will not be dismissed!” she cried, bringing the glass down upon the table.
The heavy mug shattered the transparent tabletop. Light bars flickered and went out. Cade took a step away, mouth gaping.
Anneliese felt her arms shake. She raised the broken mug again. “How dare you leave me in such a place? How dare you order stegort?"
Fury constricted her throat, making her voice high and shrill. A hand grabbed her from behind. She pulled roughly away, swinging the jagged mug at Cade, catching him on the arm. A bright red line appeared upon his shirt.
Blood! She'd drawn blood! Part of her shied away, even as part swung the glass again.
"Damn it!” Cade said. “What do you think you're doing?"
A feral scream escaped her throat. “I'm getting your attention! Do you hear me, yet?"
Arms enfolded her from behind. Someone wrenched the mug from her grasp. Anneliese felt tears coming, but she would not cry. Would not! Cade inspected his ravaged sleeve.
Then, amazingly, he smiled. “You know, now I'll have to pay for that table, too."
Anneliese met his gaze, standing tall against the arms pinning her. She felt eyes upon her, everyone in the room stopping what they were doing.
Cade rummaged through his pocket. “Prin, do me a favor and take her back to the Resort. Lock her in her room.” He tossed the key into the air.
The arms holding Anneliese shifted—Prin catching the chip. Anneliese lowered her head. Her ears rang and her body trembled with spent rage.
"This way,” said Prin.
"Cade,” said Anneliese.
Cade kicked debris beneath the ruined table, turning his back.
* * * *
Starlight poured through the domed bedroom. Anneliese paced, swishing her nightgown behind her. Images from the gaming room played over her mind. Why did she attack him? Cade would never forgive her. She rubbed a tear roughly from her cheek.
Crossing to the bureau, she again brushed her hair, allowing the silvery strands to spill over her shoulders to her waist. Facing her image, she fluffed her ruffled neckline. Cade will return, she told herself. He'd bought such a lovely nightdress; he would want to see her in it.
She turned down the side of the bed, smoothing the fragrant sheets. Glancing up, she noticed the antique oil painting—a naked woman with moonlit wings soaring through a bank of clouds. How would it feel, Anneliese wondered, to be so free?
Cade, please come back.
She sat upon the bed. She could call service, she supposed, order a nice cup of tea.
You don't want to drink that, Surah had warned. Such a gracious lady. The next time Cade took her to the lounge, she would pay the woman for the meal.
If there was a next time.
Anneliese covered her face.
She had always believed that if she loved someone the way they wanted to be loved, they would love her, too. But the secret eluded her. That was why her father spent so much time away—she'd never learned to be what he wanted.
A sound came at the door. Anneliese jumped up. Wiping her cheeks, she hurried into the great room. The door opened slowly, casting a widening slice of light. Mr. Ahzgott stepped into the suite.
Anneliese gasped, slipping behind a chair. Ahzgott's dark face merged with the room's dimness. He held up a string of keychips. Behind him, several men entered the room. They carried sluice rifles.
Twinges of fear traveled Anneliese's spine. “What is this? How dare you?” Then she leaned forward, eyes wide. “Has something happened to my husband?"
Ahzgott bowed. “Madam Thielman, I must inform you that your husband has exceeded his stake playing rantobi."
"That's ridiculous. I am a very wealthy woman."
"There has been no mistake, Madam. His account is depleted, and as per our custom, repayment of his debt falls to you."
Anneliese's head spun. Depleted? How could that be? Then, the import of his words struck her—their custom! Images crowded her vision: a woman's face with hollow eyes, a hand reaching through the bars. Marginally, she was aware of the armed guards spreading through the room.
"Where is my husband?” she demanded.
"He is, no doubt, still in security."
Dear God! “I want to speak with him!"
"I'm sure he is aware of your wishes. You will come with us, now."
"I will do no such thing!"
Anneliese gripped the back of the chair, sinking her fingers into the tufted headrest. She glanced toward the bedroom door. If she could reach the safety of her bedroom, barricade herself inside....
Ahzgott nodded as if giving a signal. Anneliese ran. A guard caught her by the hair, yanking her backward. She screamed, raking her fingernails across his face.
The guards closed in. She heard the rumble of their laughter. Anger penetrated her fear and she struck out, using the heel of her hand as she had seen on the vid-screen.
For a moment, she thought she might break free; then pain bloomed in the back of her head. Her legs crumpled. Sound grew around her then faded away as she fell into darkness.
CHAPTER 7
Anneliese awoke to the taste of blood. The back of her head hurt. She rolled onto her side, blinking into the darkness. Where was she?
Voices buzzed like insipid insects. She got to her feet then walked, arms outstretched, straight ahead. Her fingers encountered bars. She pulled back, gasping as if they were hot.
Dear God! She was in a cage!
Memories flooded back to her: Ahzgott, the guards. A scream gurgled at the back of her throat, and she crammed her fingers into her mouth to silence it. What madness was this? Where was Cade?
Shapes coalesced from the darkness, figures passing the platform. Someone spoke in Standard, and she threw herself against the bars.
"Help me!” she cried. “There's been a terrible mistake!"
Laughter met her pleas. Something struck the side of the cage. Anneliese jumped back, and then froze. What if they thought she was trying to entice them?
Someone approached the cage. Anneliese stood in rigid terror, staring. Her heart pounded and she willed it to stop, as if the sound would betray her.
Go away. Please go away.
A new shadow moved. She sensed their eyes, their lurid expectations. Her vision wavered and she thought that she might faint.
"You say you need some help?"
Anneliese jumped, startled by the voice. “Yes,” she said. “I wish to speak with Harmadeur-Fezzan-Gendarme, Master of Security for the Resort."
Laughter rang outside the cage.
"If we should cross his path, we'll let him know,” the voice said.
The laughter moved away. Anneliese strained her ears, afraid to breathe, afraid to move. How could this be happening?
What if they returned?
Suddenly, she dropped to her knees and vomited. Her throat burned with bitter bile. She crawled from the stench, then curled into a ball, sobbing. She imagined strange men touching her, rough hands upon her breasts, forcing their lips upon her own....
Cade, where are you? Her body heaved, convulsing with tears.
Just then, an explosion lit the sky. A thunderous concussion shook the stone beneath her. Anneliese covered her ears. Standing unsteadily, she pressed her face against the metal bars. A large brazier burned a distance away, and in its light, people ran in all directions. Voices cried in confusion.
"What is happening?” she called. “Can anybody hear me?"
Panic eroded her caution. She moved along the edge of the pen, shaking the cage, searching for a door. In the darkness, she tripped over a bowl on the floor, and then stumbled through a tray of straw. A curtain billowed outward like a blood-bat seeking to enfold her, and she tore at the fabric, trying to rip it down.
"Let me out! You can't keep me!” she cried.
Dry sobs racked her body. She buried her face in the dusty folds.
A sound caught her attention—the whir of a lock.
Anneliese spun about. “Cade?"
But it was not Cade. A hulking figure entered the cage.
Anneliese gasped, moving deeper into the curtain. “There's been a mistake,” she said. “I'm not supposed to be here."
The figure shifted, breathing heavily. Watching her. Waiting.
"I'm a married woman.” Anneliese lifted her chin. “My husband's a personal friend of the Master of Security.... “Her voice cracked and she fought to steady it. “We are patrons of the Resort."
The man removed his robe, unbuckling a belt from across his chest and dropping it to the floor.
Tears filled Anneliese's eyes. “Please. Please don't do this. I can pay you. My father is rich."
She held out her hands, pleading. Her arms trembled. This man, she thought, would take all from her, even that which she longed to give Cade. She lowered her arms to her sides.
"Get out,” she said.
Silence stood in answer. Brazened by her boldness, Anneliese stepped forward. The stone bowl rattled against her foot. Suddenly, she picked up the bowl, hurling it at the darkened figure.
"Get out of here!” she screamed. “I don't want you!” She launched herself at the man, striking him with her fists.
A crashing blow threw her against the side of the cage. Anneliese held her head, shaking it, looked up in time to see the shadow looming over her.
"No!” she cried, swiping the air with clawed fingers.
Another slap sent her sprawling. Run! her mind screamed. Dazed, she got to her feet. Heavy fingers caught the back of her nightdress, ripping it. Anneliese twisted away, bouncing off the cell door.
A low chuckle emanated from the lumbering shadow. He swung again. At the last instant, Anneliese saw the movement, dodged out of the path of the blow. Grasping her assailant's arm with both hands, she sank her teeth into the muscled forearm.
Sudden movement rammed her against the bars. Anneliese tasted blood, felt a slow trickle down her chin. The man pressed his arm deeper into her mouth, widening her jaws. She wrenched her teeth away, gagging, and then slammed her elbow into his ribs.
"Help me!” she screamed. “Somebody help me!"
She ducked beneath his grasp, breaking free. He grabbed her hair and pulled, snapping her head back. With one hand twisted into the nape of her neck, he forced her lips to meet his own.
Anneliese reeled. She held her breath. His mouth pressed viciously, smearing her with saliva. His beard rasped against her face.
He shoved her against the bars, locking her in place by jamming his knee into her groin. With both hands, he ripped the front of her nightgown, exposing her breasts.
Anneliese trembled. “Please,” she sobbed. “I'll give you anything."
He ran his rough hands over her bosom, kneading the soft mounds, squeezing her nipples. She whimpered, looking
away, and again he kissed her, mashing her lips against her teeth, bruising her. Working his knee between her legs, he began a rhythmic assault, thrusting his pelvis against her hip.
Anneliese's body went limp. She felt detached, as if a part of her was rising, watching the scene from a distance. The shadowed man embraced her, crushing her face against his chest. He lifted the back of her gown.
"No!” she cried, striking out.
He chuckled, struggling with his hold on her, sinking his fingers into the flesh of her buttocks, then suddenly lifting her, spreading her thighs wide. Anneliese screamed, raking her fingers across the man's face. Turning, he threw her into the center of the cage.
Anneliese backed away, panting. One hand skidded upon the puddle of vomit. The shadow fell upon her, slamming her head against the stone floor. Stars of pain filled the darkness. She kicked and twisted, flailing her arms. Her assailant reared back, striking her across the face. He pulled her nightgown above her knees.
Anneliese winced against hot tears. She pummeled his chest with her fists. He caught her wrists, pinning them with one massive hand. Her gown ripped further as the other hand explored her breasts.
Dear God, don't let this be happening.
She willed herself to faint, begged herself to wake from this nightmare.
His weight shifted, crushing the breath from her body as he forced her legs apart. Then, with a single thrust, he rammed himself inside her.
Anneliese screamed. Searing pain engulfed her, arching her back and turning her limbs rigid. He thrust again, tearing. Blood gushed onto her thighs.
She wrenched her hands from his grasp, pushing against him, trying to lessen the blows. Again and again, he drove into her, until she thought she would go mad with agony.
Then he stiffened and shuddered. Anneliese's stomach turned, and as she drifted into unconsciousness, she heard his words....
"My little naifa."
CHAPTER 8
A swath of sunlight cut into the cage. Groggily, Anneliese shaded her eyes. Her lips felt caked and swollen, her tongue thick and dry. Lifting her head, she looked at her rent clothing.
Resort Debauch Page 5
