Page 4 of Commander's Slave
She watched wide-eyed as the crowd parted and the winning bidder emerged to grab his newly bought slave by the arm, leading him off to his new life of misery.
Oh God. I’m next.
Females fetched a higher price and incited boisterous bidding wars, and she trembled to think of the reason why. A rough hand propelled her toward the stone steps.
This is it.
Bawdy voices reached her ears, and she pushed them away as she climbed the steps to the block, her thighs aching from disuse after weeks spent in the small room aboard the slaveship. She could only imagine the disgusting things being shouted at her, and she glared at the crowd as anger and fear tightened in her chest, causing her breath to come in short gasps.
Why didn’t my father stop this?
Not for the first time, she wondered why her own father, the President of the United States—still a powerful man, despite the outcome of the war—hadn’t done more to help her. She felt as though he didn’t care. A sense of abandonment deepened her sorrow.
She had never felt so alone and so helpless as she did now, standing on an auction block in a primitive alien town.
Shouts rose above her self-pitying thoughts, and she glanced in shock at the numerous alien males who were bidding on her. Her auction had apparently begun without the auctioneer, and from the corner of her eye she saw him trying to keep up with the crowd, pointing from bidder to bidder as the price rose higher and higher.
The man who had waggled his disgusting tongue at her stood at the front of the crowd with his money bag held above his head, his hard gaze promising pain and despair.
Betsy’s ears rang and sweat dripped down her forehead and into her eyes. She blinked and scanned the crowd, praying for anyone but the pervert to win the auction.
There. She glimpsed a man seated atop a boulder on the outskirts of the crowd. Each time the pervert bid, the male on the boulder calmly raised his money bag and shouted something in Kall.
Betsy squinted, trying to make out the features of the second man as hope tempered her panic. A frightening purple scar marred the left side of his face, but he had a calm aura about him that spread over the noise and reached her, as if to sayeverything will be all right. How very strange. She couldn’t help but wonder about his identity. He nodded in her direction and smiled, but it wasn’t a lewd smile like the rest of the bidders.
She glanced from the scarred man to the pervert, and soon their voices rose above the throng. Though the pervert’s face reddened and his agitation increased, the scarred man remained calm, his voice booming confidently across the square each time he bid.
The moment the pervert lowered his money bag and stormed off, a cautious sense of relief spread through Betsy.
The scarred man had won.
He slipped off the boulder with slow movements and into what appeared to be a wheelchair, except it hovered over the ground without wheels. He navigated through the dispersing crowd and tossed a bag of coins at the auctioneer’s assistant. Then he floated closer to her and reached out a hand, beckoning her to step down from the auction block. The lines around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. He called out something in Kall, and one of the guards from theMerrinaapproached to remove her manacles.
Betsy rubbed her sore wrists, said a quick prayer, and then carefully descended the stone steps to approach her new master. He reached for her, and she instinctively placed her hand in his much larger one. Fear jolted through her, despite his kind expression and persistent smile, as she stared at his large hands.
What if his pleasant demeanor was a ruse? Would he be an exacting master? Would he hurt her?
“What is your name, human girl?”
She opened her mouth and then shut it, thinking it wise to keep her identity a secret. For a moment, she considered making up a false name, but she’d never been good at lying. She weighed her options. Should she risk getting into trouble for lying to her new master? Or would she get into less trouble for refusing to reveal her real name? Uncertainty crept through her.
He released her hand and sat back in his chair. “Never mind. You can tell me later. My name is Draken. I promise not to hurt you.” He gestured at a row of colorful buildings across the street. “Let’s get you some clothing, and then I will take you to my home on the mountain.”
I promise not to hurt you. Was he telling the truth? God, how she wanted to believe him.
As she followed him into a shop, past the curious stares of bystanders, she wondered why he’d shared his name. Shouldn’t he have ordered her to call him ‘Master?’ She recalled the rules the human counselor had told her shortly before she’d been drugged and taken aboard the slaveship. Her stomach flipped. One of those rules stated a slave must never look their master in the eye. She’d peered directly into Draken’s eyes several times now, but he hadn’t rebuked her for it.
Was he different from most of the other Kall, the ones she’d seen roughly handling their newly purchased slaves? She kept glancing at him, trying to figure him out. Why was his manner so relaxed? She’d never met a Kall so calm. Most were angry and forbidding and downright terrifying. And most held a bloodlust for humans.
The shop was cramped, with hardly enough space for Draken to navigate his floating chair, but at least there were no other patrons inside. Betsy followed close behind him, peeking up at the rows of clothing that were similar to attire on Earth. Dresses, shirts, and pants in many styles and colors hung on the walls and on long racks. The shopkeeper, a Kall male shorter than most she’d seen, strode toward Draken with a smile. The two conversed in their native tongue for a moment, before the shopkeeper selected a plain ivory dress from a nearby rack and tossed it at her.
She caught it and watched as Draken passed three gleaming gold coins to the other Kall. He turned in his chair and nodded.
“You may put the dress on now, human girl. The shoes, too.”
A second later, a pair of slip-on shoes were tossed in her direction. Relieved that she didn’t have to walk the streets naked again, she slipped the soft garment over her head and tugged it down over her hips. It fit perfectly.
She watched in surprise as the shopkeeper put five more dresses, including what appeared to be a nightgown, seven pairs of underwear, and a clear bag filled with toiletries into a sack and brought it to her. She accepted the sack, beyond grateful for the clothing and everything else. She hadn’t expected her new Master to provide her with such items. Unexpectedly, her throat burned with emotion.
