Sex Slaves 2: Waiting For Yesterday

by Lorie O'Clare

  “You might as well give up on me.” Dree shook her head, wiping her tears with the back of her dirt-covered hand, but unwilling to brush her hair from her face. She knew Borna was disappointed in her.

  Borna reached down, sliding her hands underneath Dree’s armpits. Slowly she lifted her, like a mother would lift a child who had fallen in play. Instead of helping her stand, she picked her up, cradling her in her arms.

  “The only way we give up is if you give up on yourself.” She turned toward the line of apartments, stepping silently across the small open field until they had reached the door to Dree’s small room. She carried Dree with little effort. This woman was obviously a lot stronger than she appeared. Never had she met anyone like Borna.

  Kicking the door open with her foot, Borna entered the dark room, placing Dree down on her bed. Already the stiffness had set in throughout her body, her muscles racked from abuse she wasn’t accustomed to. Borna leaned over her, adjusting the blanket, and covered her with the gentleness of a lover.

  “Tell me why you want to learn how to fight.” Borna sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair to the side of Dree’s face.

  Dree looked up at the warrior woman, dark hair falling in strands around her oval-shaped face. Borna had a creamy complexion, her muscles so relaxed, her emotions so masked, it made her beautiful and dangerous looking at the same time.

  She didn’t hide her voluptuous body with her shirt tied above her waist, and her full curves and colorful tattoos were more than a distraction. This was her best weapon though, her sex appeal luring and tempting. Dree had a feeling Borna could use her body as bait, and then easily destroy her enemy with her quick, deadly actions.

  “I think that is obvious.” It even hurt to smile. Dree wondered if she would even be able to move come morning. “I don’t know how, and need to be able to take care of myself.”

  The side of Borna’s mouth curved up, a small smile, her full lips moist although she ran her tongue over them anyway. “I think I like you, Dree of Torl. Marla said that I would.”

  “She did?” Even though she shouldn’t feel that unending bind to her former mistress, her heart swelled at the thought that Marla would say kind things about her.

  “Have you always been a sex slave?” Borna seemed comfortable on the edge of Dree’s bed, her hip nestled against Dree’s side. She reached out, running her finger down the side of Dree’s face, teasing the skin with a delicate touch. “Have you pleased your mistress before? Sexually, that is?”

  She could have told Borna that was none of her business. That was the first response that popped into her head. But this mysterious woman had offered her services, spent time working with her when she could have been doing something else.

  “Yes to both.” Dree knew there was no way she could offer Borna any pleasure tonight. Her body was too sore.

  Those dark eyes smoldered at the knowledge that Dree had been with a woman before, or maybe just knowing that she’d submitted sexually all of her life was the turn-on. Borna traced a path along Dree’s jawbone, and then down the curve of her neck.

  “It will be hard to overcome your submissive nature.” Her sultry tone was like enchanting music, soothing and beckoning.

  Dree would never admit how hard. She lazily raised her shoulder, attempting a shrug while lying there. “Tell me about you,” she suggested, deciding to change the subject.

  Borna raised one pencil-lined dark eyebrow.

  “What makes a warrior decide to farm?” she asked, hoping her question didn’t offend Borna.

  Borna lifted a strand of Dree’s hair, rubbing it between her fingers before letting it fall. She didn’t offer an immediate answer, the silence growing between them while the room seemed to grow darker.

  “That answer would terrify you.” Her words sent a chill through Dree’s body.

  She adjusted herself under the blanket, her body screaming in retaliation from soreness and bruises and scrapes. Suddenly she couldn’t get warm, Borna’s words making her worry as to what the truth might be.

  “Tell me,” she whispered, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “It was wrong of me to encourage your attacks earlier.” Borna spoke softly now, her voice as soothing as her touch, a gentle stroke of flesh against flesh.

  Her fingers were warm, the heat from her traveling through Dree, creating a flush on top of the chill. She couldn’t look away from that dark expression, her sensual gaze almost intoxicating.

  “You will never be able to defeat me.” Borna didn’t brag, just added the knowledge casually. “My people are warriors, surgically altered from birth onward as we mature, ensuring our best assets develop properly. I am designed to seduce and destroy. It’s in my nature. We are designed to conquer, taking what we want, offering no alternative other than submission.”

  Dree found it hard to swallow, her mouth suddenly too dry. Part of her wanted to tell Borna to stop, that she didn’t need to hear anymore. Yet the truth waited right around the corner. And she had a feeling it would do worse than terrify her.

  “Who are your people?” she asked, almost unable to form the words her mouth parched from her quick breaths.

  “I am Bortan, born and raised.” Borna stood quickly, as if she already knew how her words would affect Dree.

  But all Dree could do was stare at the woman who quickly faded into the dark shadows of the room, horror paralyzing her while she stared at her worst enemy.

  Chapter Twelve

  The matter shouldn’t be so complicated. Marc of Torin turned, feeling more than frustrated as he stared at the handful of some of his best officers.

  “What do you mean, you can’t find him?” He knew irritation ruled his tone. But damn it to all of the hells, this was ridiculous. “How can the King simply disappear?”

  “We’re sure his men have secured him somewhere, possibly in one of the homes in his kingdom.” Jax Raleer sounded just as frustrated as he felt.

  Marc knew the woman had family at home and wanted all of this to end as quickly as he did. She would never complain though. Jax was one of his best soldiers, as were the others in the room.

  “Or he could already be dead.” Porg Rihd stared out the window, taking over the spot where Marc had been before they had all entered for the debriefing.

  Marc sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “How can we not have a clue where the King is?”

  No one answered right away. Porg walked over to the table, the only piece of furniture in Marc’s makeshift office. He opened the porta-comm sitting there, the screen humming to life.

  “We attacked several places,” Porg began, his weather-beaten face looking tired when he looked at Marc. “But we weren’t able to penetrate the castle. And without wiping out hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent people, we won’t be able to.”

  “No one is coming or going from the castle though,” Jax added. “Their supplies are cut off and we have a fairly secure hold on the rest of the kingdom.”

  Marc nodded, his thoughts drifting to Dree and how concerned she was that her people get out of there and be given a chance at a new life.

  “Make it known that anyone who wants to leave the castle may do so. They will have to cross through our guards but do not harm any of them. We’ll starve the King out of there, I hope. I don’t want unnecessary bloodshed.”

  It wasn’t real clear if either of them agreed with his orders or not. But at the moment he didn’t care. It had been a long day and all he wanted right now was to see Dree.

  “There have been attacks outside the kingdom.” Jax twisted the long braid the fell over her shoulder. Tattoos of different geometric designs covered her arms. “The Bortan were working with King Sorale on obtaining certain rights on Benox.”

  “More like preparing to oust him and take over,” Porg said, his tone bordering on disgust.

  “Well I would have had no problem with them doing our dirty work for us,” Marc told them, “except we all know what th
e Bortan do once they remove power from a planet.”

  The two of them nodded, knowing King Sorale would become a very minor problem if the Bortan gained more say in the kingdom.

  “And we have reports of the King’s armies being close to Torin.” Jax pulled out one of the chairs from under the table and slid the porta-comm so that it faced her. “So far they haven’t made any action.”

  “The King’s men are waiting for his next order,” Marc guessed. “It’s a weak assumption but possibly he isn’t in a position to be giving orders.”

  “I think we need to worry more about the Bortan moving in while we are taking down the King.” Porg voiced Marc’s own worries.

  “Where were these attacks?” Marc asked Jax, his thoughts drifting once again to Dree. She’d better be safe or he would have the Gren’s neck.

  “Lengorc mainly.” Jax pressed a few keys on the pad while focusing on the screen in front of her. “It looks like we secured the situation fairly quickly. Only a couple deaths are reported.”

  Anger simmered through Marc, and he despised the King even more for allowing that brutal race on the planet. He rubbed the back of his neck, needing to ease the growing tension so he could stay focused. Trent Dar had been his friend for many years, and was an outstanding warrior. As hard as it had been to leave Dree, he knew there was no better protector for her than the Gren.

  “What about the other nations on the planet?” Porg asked. “It will only be a matter of time before the Bortan contact those leaders.”

  “I’ve already thought of that.” Marc moved behind Jax, looking over her shoulder at the small monitor. “Have one of the communications officers prepare a statement letting the rest of the planet know our standing. I’ll brief it before we send it out.”

  Jax nodded without looking up.

  Marc headed toward the door, needing to get out of there. He turned to look at his officers while reaching for the door handle. “And find that damned King,” he barked.

  Heading toward the glider he’d assigned to himself earlier, the last thing he wanted to do was ensure all troops were secure. Energy burned inside him, something dark and disturbing. King Sorale had inflicted a life of misery on the people of his kingdom. And the closer his nasty claws got to the house of Torin, the more Marc had wanted to take him down.

  But disappearing? Marc straddled the glider, bringing the machine around and forcing the motor underneath him to roar for a minute. He wanted to tear out of there, fly without direction while he sorted his thoughts. King Sorale didn’t just disappear. But where was the bastard? How had he managed to slip through their fingers? The people of Torin wouldn’t be pleased at all to know their warriors would be kept here, hounding these streets, until they found the King. They wanted a swift and merciful attack, not endless bloodshed.

  Marc adjusted his mouthpiece to his face before taking to flight. “Trent Dar,” he said into the small microphone, while accelerating away from the small group of houses where he’d set up his temporary headquarters inside the kingdom.

  There were a few almost inaudible clicks and then the line opened. “Dar here.”

  “Report.” And he wanted to know if Dree was okay. There was no need to ask. The Gren would tell him all he wanted to know.

  “Lengorc was attacked in five different locations. The King’s armies attacked two locations, and the Bortan attacked three. All were small raids and sustained in a short time.” Trent Dar offered little voice inflection, offering the summary without emotion.

  The Bortan seldom worked with another nation during battle. They were self-seeking slaughterers. And the King was a fool not to see that. The Bortan used him to move around his kingdom without questions. But Marc knew as soon as they thought they were stable on Benox, they would strike and take over the planet. They needed to be stopped soon.

  “And what about Dree? Is she with you?” He wanted to talk to her, needed to hear her voice. More than likely the attacks scared her to death. It ate him alive thinking she probably endured that fear alone. She’d had enough of that kind of hell in her life.

  “She ran away.”

  Trent Dar’s words hit him like a knife, digging painfully deep into his chest.

  “Gren.” Marc would have leveled the man to the ground if he’d been within his grasp. Anger fumed through him with the speed of lightning. He white-knuckled the handles on the glider, forcing the machine to accelerate. “Where the fuck is she?” he bellowed.

  “We followed her to Kopah-Torl.” Trent Dar’s tone didn’t change. None of Marc’s aggressions fazed him.

  “Kopah-Torl.” Marc barely realized he’d spoken out loud. The people from Poltar, who’d arrived less than a year ago with enough money to buy almost half of Benox. He knew little about them, other than they had purchased all the land west of the kingdom and Torin. Taking over a winery that had been run by thieves, their security was tight, and they kept to themselves. No one messed with them since they produced the best wine in the area, harvested and produced right there on Kopah-Torl.

  “She was picked up by one of their workers and hasn’t left the main house since she arrived.” At least the Gren had taken the initiative to ensure she remained safe. “She is with her own people.”

  “She was from Torl.” Something ripped at his heart. A dark, brooding jealousy that didn’t sit well with him at all.

  Mine. Although he had no formal rights to Dree, more than anything he wanted to barge into Kopah-Torl and demand she return with him. But the matter wasn’t that simple. The couple who ran the successful ranch had a small army protecting them from everyone on the outside. More than likely the disaster that had hit their home world had turned the successful sex breeders into paranoid recluses.

  Marc had never worried about them until now. He didn’t want Dree to find happiness there. Selfish as that might be, he wanted her to be happy with him.

  “I know their contact,” the Gren offered, obviously aware of how this knowledge tore at Marc. “We’ll speak with him soon and get an update on her.”

  Marc updated Trent on the standing of the kingdom, and how the King had disappeared.

  “The King won’t care if you destroy half of his people looking for him.” Trent Dar showed the first sign of bitterness in his tone. But then the Gren had no respect for those who showed no honor.

  “The Bortan will do it for us if we aren’t careful.” Marc had traveled over half of the kingdom so far.

  Glancing down while he spoke, he kept his eyes peeled for the silver carriers that the Bortan were known to travel in when on ground. There were none to be seen and for the most part, everything appeared calm—the calm before the storm.

  * * * * *

  By the end of the week, Marc was about ready to pull his hair out. A warrior didn’t do well sitting and waiting. And his troops wanted action.

  “Either we return to Torin, or we attack.” Porg had cut to the root. “Frustration levels are peaking, Marc.”

  “Prepare the troops.” Marc pushed buttons on his porta-comm, allowing a transmission to come through. “Cover every inch of that castle, but inform the men there will be no unnecessary killing.”

  Porg didn’t question him. The older man had been a warrior for too long. And Marc had no desire to share the mental promise he’d made Dree, even though she wasn’t here to tell. Her people were inside there, and if they were still alive, he would take them to Torin, give them a chance to lead better lives.

  One of his communication officers walked into the room before Porg reached the door. “Bortan battleships have been picked up by one of our satellites,” she informed them. “They should be in orbit before nightfall.”

  “Prepare evasive action.” Marc pushed away from the table, standing up quickly. “They cannot be allowed to enter our atmosphere.”

  The officer nodded and hurried out the door. Her computer was set up in one of the carriers. Marc hurried to the door, calling after her. “And prepare for departure. They will attack
the kingdom first. We return to Torin in the morning.”

  “And the attack on the castle?” Porg asked him.

  “Attack now. I want complete control of this kingdom before the Bortan come anywhere close to orbiting.”

  Porg nodded, his expression showing that he agreed.

  “Dar,” he almost yelled into his microphone after securing the communication device around his head. “We’re headed home.”

  “Understood.” The Gren never seemed to need to be filled in on any matter. Somehow the man already knew everything. “Lengorc is secure.”

  Marc didn’t wait for his troops to move into the castle. He knew Porg and Jax could handle the situation. Taking a small amount of warriors with him, he headed west, deciding to meet up with Trent Dar before returning to Torin.

  “We have two days before the Bortan will be in orbit,” Trent Dar said in way of greeting when Marc entered the room he’d reserved for them almost a week ago.

  The first thing he noticed was the large window where he’d seen Dree standing in that luscious gown. So damned beautiful, and so willing to fuck him.

  “Make contact with Kopah-Torl.” He didn’t bother with greetings either.

  And the Gren didn’t question him. He raised one eyebrow, and Marc swore he saw amusement in the man’s dark eyes before Trent looked down at his screen, pushing several buttons silently.

  Marc walked over to the window, looking down at the street. Everything appeared business as usual. Townsfolk moved leisurely in and out of the shops, children darting around their parents. He would see they continued to enjoy their prosperous lives here.

  “I have an open line with them now.” Trent Dar spoke from behind him.

  Marc turned, moving to the table and sliding the porta-comm away from the Gren. He sat down at one of the other chairs, Trent Dar not questioning his actions, although he kept a firm watch on him. Marc could feel those black eyes watching his every move.

  Marc pushed the button that would allow him to speak instead of type. He stared at the man on the screen, who he knew in turn watched him.