by Cathryn Cade
She dreamed that night that she was shopping again. The two blond men were at her side, smiling down at her indulgently as she chose, not the pink nightie and the flowered kimono she’d selected that day, but a child’s clothing—soft, sturdy knits and playfully embroidered woollens. She chattered to them, and they listened, smiling at each other and her.
But then their faces grew solemn, and they stepped back, leaving her to stand alone before an ornate door. She faced the door, her heart thumping not with physical fear, but with another kind of dread, for she knew beyond that door lay stricture and solemn ceremony. A prison, not of cerametal bars but of duty. The invisible bonds tightened until they became physical, and she couldn’t move, could only stand and fight for breath as the door slowly swung open.
She woke panting, to find herself wound in her blanket. She fought it off and lay there, the remnants of the dream bright and jagged. It had been so real. What had she been dreading?
Marriage? Or even incarceration? Maybe she hadn’t just been drugged by the slavers. Maybe she was mentally incompetent, and the two men were her keepers. She didn’t feel incompetent, but would one know?
The thump of a small, warm body on her pillow made her gasp, and then give a sob of pure relief. The mawwr was back. She curled her hand around it and tucked it under the curve of her chin, absorbing its warmth and softness, the reassurance of its purr.
“You always seem to know just when I need you, little friend,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Now she needed the creature give her courage, because the dream and the events of the evening before had shown her she could no longer just exist here in this place, waiting for her life to be revealed and sweep her back into it. If there was something to dread there, she wanted to know. She wanted to be the one to decide when and how she returned to it.
Joran Stark held the power here, in his camp. Only by knowing who she was, and where she fit into the galaxy could she hope to claim her own power.
And, she admitted, she wanted to know exactly what it was like to let him unleash all that rampant maleness. She petted the mawwr, breathing in its scent of fresh air and sweet grass, and imagined it was Joran’s powerful body under her hand.
“I will have him. Then, I will walk away from him, the way he walks away from women with whom he shares sexual relations,” she whispered to the mawwr. “I will be just like him. I will live free and wild, if I want to.”
She swallowed hard, wishing this notion didn’t sound quite so unfamiliar. That didn’t matter. She had learned to ride a cata; she could learn to be independent too—both sexually and in the rest of her life.
***
The Storm left early the next morning, with only a terse reminder to Zaë to stay close and mind Wega. She answered with a silent nod.He eyed her skeptically, then growled her name.
“I will stay close,” she snapped. Honestly, did everything have to be verbal with him?
He glowered at her and stalked out of the tont.
She scowled as his silver cruiser lifted off and disappeared into the vault of blue sky, free as a wild hawk in flight. Where were he and his crew off to today?
To rescue more slaves? Perhaps even to bring home another woman to take her place? He probably saw no reason to keep her around his tont any longer. Not that she wanted to stay. Every time she remembered the spanking, she got all hot, tingly and angry all over again.
The man was too accustomed to having his own way. She either needed to get her memories back and deal with him on her own terms, or get out of his tont and away from his masculine charms. She wanted him, but if she acted on those urges as his ‘pet’, this would make her just another one of his women, and that burned too deep to be endured.
No, her sexual awakening would be on her terms. He would be only the first of many men for her, and so she would tell him.
But not until she was whole. That meant the only way forward was through whatever physical pain it took to regain her self. It was possible—she had to believe that. Trying to decide how to go about it, she sat in front of the tont in the shade of a retractable awning and played absently with the mawwr, coaxing it to chase a piece of bright yarn she filched from one of the ornate throws on the divan.
Part of her was ready to force her memories, but part of her was afraid. She didn’t like pain, and the pain in her head caused by attempting to remember her life was bad enough to make her shudder in memory.
A trio of children ran by, kicking a sparkling ball back and forth. She was as aimless as the ball, and nowhere near as bright, she thought moodily. She propped her chin in her hand, watching as a cruiser took off from the other end of camp and disappeared into the sky.
She remembered being on another planet, Vardos, which meant she travelled. Maybe she’d been travelling here and had been kidnapped from somewhere on this planet.
Nera had mentioned holovids, so Zaë brought up one about Frontiera, going on a virtual tour of Frontiera City, a settlement to the north called Adamant, the huge boreal forests that spanned much of the far side of the planet, and then the tropical regions to the south, lush and wild and lovely. However, while fascinating, none of this sparked any memories.
The holovid over, she tried to coax the surly Wega to link Riley and ask when he would be free.Wega merely swung two eye-stalks her way and stared as she continued to play her game silently.
Wega accepted her offer of lunch, and even expressed surprise at the moonberry spread Zaë had concocted, eating three pieces of bread slathered with it. But afterward, the Occulan showed that she was done with guard duty. When Ringi walked by on her way to her own tont, and offered—with a wink at Zaë—to keep an eye on Zaë for the rest of the afternoon, Wega acquiesced with clear relief.
“And you’ll ask Riley when I can speak with him?” Zaë called after her.
The Occulan grunted something and disappeared around a tont.
Well, that was unhelpful. Still, she wasn’t altogether sorry to have an excuse to put off her painful plans. And after a day with Wega, she was hungry for friendly feminine companionship.
Zaë watched eagerly as the other women came in to Ringi and Pede’s tont, disposing themselves on divans, cushions and the carpets, and settled down to talk, their offspring playing around them. There was Ringi and her little girl. Ruth was a heavily pregnant woman with skin dark as bitter chocolate, a fluff of auburn hair and a flashing smile. She was partnered with another woman and a man.
Livie, a lively brunette, lived with two men. She had a black haired baby by one and a blonde toddler by the other. Dano, the slim man with beautiful eyes who had intervened between Zaë and Fee while shopping, was with another man.
“We’re all partnered with Stark’s crew,” Ringi told Zaë. “Which means we stick together, and we don’t hang out with the camp hangers.”
“Camp hangers?”
“Yeah, the women who hang around, have sex wherever, whenever, with whoever.”
“Bunch of whores,” Ilya said disdainfully.
“Nothing wrong with whoring,” Livie snapped. “I did it till I met Lasher and Iao. Girl’s gotta eat.”
“You’re classy, though,” Ilya said. “Fee and her girls aren’t.”
“Except Marzolle,” Dano corrected. “That woman is sheer class.”
Ilya shot Zaë a secretive look. “Stark seems to think so.”
Zaë flinched. “Not the blonde?”
Ilya hooted. “Oh, no. The blonde bitch is Fee. She’s after Stark like a catamount stalking a deerbbit. Thinks if he fucks her often enough, he’ll make her his woman. Since she also fucks every other man who moves, why would he bring that into his tont?”
“Not gonna happen,” Livie agreed.“And Marzolle doesn’t hang with her, anyway. Hey, Zaë, where are you from?”
Before she knew it, Zaë found herself confiding in them about her loss of memory from the drugs the slavers had given her.
“That’s rough, girl,” Livie said. “Well, at least you
landed with us, right?”
“We’re nice,” Ruth agreed with a wink, rubbing her belly as she lounged on a divan, her feet up.“Stark will keep you safe ‘til you can figure out where home is.”
“Nice? Speak for yourself,” Ilya retorted. “I’m a badass, and don’t forget it.”
Zaë laughed, then put a hand to her mouth in case this was impolite. A badass, she liked that. She would like to be a badass. Few would try to drug and kidnap the redoubtable Ilya.
“She’s a warrior and a partner,” Ringi told Zaë. “Ilya’s a whiz at numbers and anything tech. Her man Var is a warrior, and he’s an ace with weapons.”
“Your life sounds wonderful,” Zaë said to Ilya. She was a free woman, strong in her own right. Maybe Zaë could train to do some of those things, and stay here as one of the group. Her heart thumped with excitement and fear. How and where would she begin the process? Did she dare ask these women for help?
“Hey, you’re a bit of a badass yourself, girl,” Ruth said. “I saw the way you flipped Fee into the panties and bras.” She mimed the other woman’s look of shock, and the others laughed raucously.
“That was good,” Ringi agreed.
“But I don’t even know how I knew to do that,” Zaë said, her pleasure at their admiration gone.
“Well, maybe you could practice,” Livie suggested. “Work out, you know?”
“I was there when the slavers auctioned you off,” Ilya told Zaë. “You are damn lucky Stark bid on you. The other two that wanted you...well. You’d be in a brothel somewhere, or worse.”
Zaë couldn’t think of anything worse than being in a brothel, so she merely nodded.
“Well, you’re not, you’re here with us. Damn, hot today, isn’t it?” Ringi asked. Zaë gave her a smile, grateful for the change of subject. She would ask Ringi for advice, later.
“Not as hot as it was last lunar month,” Ruth said. “Thank the goddess summer is on the wane. Being pregnant in the Frontieran heat is no fun.”
“Will you give birth here in camp?” Zaë asked. She thought Ruth beautiful with her round belly and quiet glow of happiness. In her orange dress she looked like a ripe fruit.
“Oh, yeah. Riley’s an excellent medic, and Ringi has birth training.” Ruth patted her belly. “I’ll be glad to get this big baby out, though. Think I’m gonna give birth to a skrog.”
“You have gorgeous hair,” Dano commented to Zaë. “You always wear it braided like that?”
Zaë fingered her braid and blushed. “Um, no. Not always.”
“Nice to get it off your neck in this heat,” Ringi said, fingering her loose up-do. “Pede’s always bringing me hair ornaments like combs and such, Zaë. You can use some if you want to put your hair up.”
“Oh, let me do it,” Dano offered. “Please?”
Zaë didn’t know what to say, but Ringi was already moving to get a brush, comb and hair gadgets. In a few moments Dano kneeling behind her, carefully combing out her hair, and then fastening it up in sections with pretty combs.
“Now you need a sun dress,” Ruth said, eyeing Zaë’s clothing. “That outfit is nice, but a dress is cooler.”
Zaë had to admit the sleeveless, silk dresses the other woman wore looked cool and pretty. Ilya wore pants like Zaë, but with a low-cut tank top and vest.
“But I just purchased an outfit from the transport,” she said.
The others laughed as if she’d told a very good joke. “A woman can always use more pretty things.”
“Shopping network!” Dano said. He snapped his fingers. “Ringi, your com.”
“Stark has plenty of credit, honey,” Ringi assured her. “Besides, he told me you needed some new things. In blue,” she added with a significant look around at all of them. “To match those eyes of yours, I reckon.”
“I’m sorry,” Zaë said. She had gotten caught up in her shopping on the transport, but enough was enough. “But I cannot accept any more goods that are purchased with stolen credit.”
The tont went silent. Even the toddlers looked up from their blocks, and little Elliane gave an uncertain whimper.
Ringi reached down to soothe her, her gaze still on Zaë.
“Stolen credit?” she repeated. “Listen, Miss High and Mighty, what exactly do you think goes on here?”
Zaë’s face and throat pulsed with heat. She clenched her hands together in her lap. “I’m sorry to offend you.”
Dano yanked on a lock of her hair, and Zaë turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Honey,” he said. “You know Stark rescued you from the slavers?”
She nodded.
He nodded back sternly. “Right. Turn, I want to finish.”
She turned away obediently but lowered her gaze to avoid the unfriendly looks from the women.
Dano went back to work again as he talked. “Well, you’re not the only treasure they left the auction with. Ilya here is not just a good tech, she’s a tech genius, and she very skillfully relieved those evil slime-sucking bastards of nearly all of the profits from their auction.”
Ilya bowed graciously like a diva thanking her audience for applause, though she still glared at Zaë.
“Oh,” Zaë breathed. “So you—you steal from other thieves?”
“Now she’s getting it,” Ruth said.
Ringi was still frowning at her.
“I’m so sorry I offended you,” Zaë repeated. “But Stark simply said he was a thief and so I thought—I’ll go, if you wish me to.”
Ringi rolled her eyes. “Well. Reckon I understand now. Arrogant males, don’t think they need to explain anything. You don’t need to go anywhere, silly girl.”
“And, you haven’t known us but a couple of days,” Livie added. She gave Zaë a wry smile. “My mother’s a preacher, and my parents don’t think much of how I choose to live. They think reiving and stealing’s wrong, no matter who and how.”
This was true, but stealing from slavers and other thieves didn’t seem quite as bad to Zaë. That was like punishing them for their wrong-doing in a way, wasn’t it?
“Done,” Dano said with satisfaction. He brought up a mirror with his com and Zaë regarded her reflection in the holomirrors that surrounded her.
Her hair was coiled in intricate twists, the jeweled combs glinting among them. The style made her neck look slender and graceful, and emphasized the shape of her eyes, and the curve of her cheekbones. It also emphasized the collar.
“Thank you,” she said. “It looks very nice.” Even though she had to curl her hands tightly in her lap to quell the urge to yank it all down and pull it forward around her throat like a shawl.
“I am good,” Dano said smugly. He leaned forward and pressed a moist kiss to Zaë’s cheek. “Just tell Stark who to thank for your new look, sweetie.”
“We have a link,” Ringi said, snapping her fingers to draw attention to the holovid of a fashion boutique. “Time for some shopping, people.”
Ilya groaned. “If I have to watch you shop, I need a drink.”
Ringi brought out wine for everyone, and snacks and juice for Ruth and the children.
“That one,” Ruth called as a modelbot in a lovely blue gown the hue of water posed gracefully before them.
“Wait, wait.” Livie waved her arms to stop them. “I have a dress just like that. Not my color. It’s yours if you want it, Zaë.”
“Of course she wants it,” Dano said. “It will be perfect! So sexy, Stark won’t be able to resist you in that.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Zaë began, shaking her head. “I think he views me more like one of the baubles he has in his tont—he doesn’t like plain things. He’s not interested in me sexually at all.” She told them about Stark bringing Fee to his tont.
Ringi sneered. “Fee doesn’t count. And I don’t mean because she’s with a lot of men; who cares about that? But she made a play for my Pede. Let him know she was available, and she didn’t care that he’s with me.”
“That’s awful. What did Pede
do?”
“Oh, honey, it wasn’t what Pede did. I put a knife to her throat and told her I’d use it on her enhanced face if she ever so much as looked at my man again.”
“Oh, my.” Zaë wanted to cheer at Ringi’s fierceness.
Dano laughed. “Haven’t seen Fee trying it on with Pede again. Not that he would, anyway, with a delicious morsel like Ringi in his bed.” It hadn’t stopped her from taunting Zaë, though.
Ringi smiled at Dano and leaned over to give him a long kiss.
Zaë watched this with fascination.
Dano chuckled. “We’re shocking our little friend.”
Ringi winked at Zaë. “It’s okay. Pede knows Dano and I are close. In fact, we shared once—before Orson put his ink on Dano, of course. Orson is the jealous type.”
Dano chortled. “And you’re not?”
“Not with you, gorgeous.”
Zaë took another drink of wine—a long one. Then she tried not to gape at them as she pictured the two of them and the very masculine Pede together, perhaps in this very room. It was very arousing, which confused her. But then she shrugged. “That sounds very interesting. Did you enjoy it?
“Pede certainly did,” Ringi crooned. “That man nearly came unglued with both of us taking care of him. And he thanked me very nicely. Can’t even remember how many times I came.”
Blushing fierily, Zaë turned back to Dano. “Orson put his ink on you? What does that mean?”
He smiled roguishly and fluttered his thick lashes at her. “Want to see?”
She nodded, and his hands went to his belt.
“Ooh,” Ruth called. “Dano’s gonna show off his tattoos.”
“And our little immi’s eyes are gonna pop, they get any wider,” Ilya added.
The tont rang with laughter and calls of encouragement for Dano, who rose onto his knees to writhe sensually as he lowered his pants—just enough to display the design on one side of his groin.
