The Breaker's Concubine (22 page)

when they were reunited.

Now he just had to keep from counting every second until he buried himself inside her

again.

The Breaker’s Concubine

121

Chapter Eleven

Huddled in the corner of the cell, Melania wrapped her arms around her bruised body and

stared at the steel wall. She was on a ship headed for the trading base on the moon. Dressed in an

ugly bright green jumper, she plucked at the fabric with distaste. This was the color they made

the worst criminals wear, those who were considered dead to their families and no longer fit for

Kyrimia. Instead of being executed, she was being sent off to what was doubtlessly a life filled

with pain and sorrow. She would have almost preferred a quick death if it wasn’t for the faint

hope that Devnar was still alive.

Everything had happened so quickly, she still tried to figure out how she’d ended up here.

Obviously Lady Grenba had set Melania up to take the fall if things went wrong. The only part

she couldn’t figure out was how in the world Lord Mithrik thought she’d managed to get Devnar

onto the planet. She had no smuggling contacts or anything like it. The whole situation didn’t

make sense.

Denied a trial by the regulators, she’d been whipped in full view of the crowd at the arena

before being thrown into an Imperial prison. She had begged for Devnar’s life to be spared, but

her pleas only met with silence or more beatings. While her physical body hurt, it was nothing

compared to the pain of her heart.

She would have gladly confessed to anything, done anything to spare Devnar’s life, but it

was never given to her as an option. In fact, Lord Mithrik had her gagged soon after she arrived

at the prison. The only thing that kept her from losing her mind was the faint sense of Devnar.

Somewhere, he was still alive. She didn’t get the flashes of emotion she had when he was close,

but his spirit was a small, warm ember in her heart.

The door to her cell opened, and she turned her head, blinking against the lights of the

hallway. They must have arrived on the moon. Terror at actually being off her planet made a

stinging sweat break out over her skin. This was real. This was really happening.

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Two guards dressed in dark navy blue leathers sneered at her. “On your feet, traitor.”

She pushed herself up and moaned behind her gag as they pulled her to her feet. Since

arriving at the jail she had been beaten, often, and her body ached. Never enough to break the

skin or harm a bone, but enough so that she had spectacular bruises covering the exposed parts of

her body. Barefoot, she followed the men down the hallway to the air lock.

The door opened, and bright light from the trading post made her wince. White walls and

floors decorated with pictures of the empress and warnings lined the hallway. More guards

waited for them and gave her looks of disgust. “What do you have here?” the female guard with

gold braids asked in a brisk voice.

“Lord Mithrik has a new slave for auction.” He handed the woman a small disk that she

placed into the viewing screen on the table in front of her.

The blonde raised an eyebrow and examined Melania from head to toe. “She’s not much to

look at.”

“She’s a breaker.” The guard from the ship pushed her forward. “Traitorous bitch

smuggled an off-worlder onto Kyrimia.”

“Really?” The blonde gaped at her, and her lips thinned into a narrow line. The guard

scanned the screen and made a disgusted sound. “Her auction is to be held in one hour. Take her

to section 85B and hand her over to a man named Lord Gozil.”

Melania’s heart sank, and she bit back a moan of despair. Being sold into slavery to an off-

worlder was a punishment reserved for only the worst criminals. Horror stories of what happened

to slaves who were sold off planet had been the nightmares of her youth. Slavers from all over

the galaxy came for the auctions, and the slaves often ended up being sold to whorehouses,

where they were used until they died.

The whispered tales of torture and atrocities had her trying to jerk away from her captors

and run, though she knew it was useless. Kicking the guard next to her in the kneecap, she bolted

toward the door with the mindless panic of a trapped rabbit. Her mind tried to argue about where

she was going to run to on the moon, but her dread didn’t care.

“Stun her,” the blonde said in a bored voice. “I don’t want her disturbing the post.”

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123

A jolt of pain followed by numbness filled her body, and she fell to the floor. With a grunt,

the guard on her right picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “Don’t know who they’re

going to get to bid on her. Ugly and scrawny. Lord Mithrik will be lucky if he can find a buyer.”

Tears of humiliation ran down her face as she bounced against the guard’s shoulder. The

little warmth inside her she associated with Devnar flared and then went quiet again. Still there

but fainter now. The blood rushing to her head pounded in her ears, and she had trouble

breathing.

Voices, clanks of metal, and the smell of antiseptics gave her the only hints of the world

beyond the guard’s back. She had never been to the trader colony before and felt a surge of

empathy for Devnar. Was this what he’d felt like when he was captured? He certainly didn’t act

like it. Wishing she was as strong as he was, she tried to blink away her tears and clear her mind.

A man’s silken voice said, “What is that nasty creature you’re bringing me? It can’t be the

breaker Lord Mithrik sent word of. Looks more like an ugly boy with long hair.”

The world spun, and her head throbbed as she was set on the floor. She blinked rapidly to

try to clear the tears clouding her eyes, and had a watery impression of a short, pale man dressed

in brick red robes. Other than his stature, Lord Gozil bore a strong resemblance to Lord Mithrik.

Those same dark hazel eyes stared down at her with disgust.

“It is, your lordship.” The guards stepped away from her as if she were something foul.

Curling, she readied herself for the punch or kick that was surely coming.

“Not much to work with. Her auction is in forty minutes.” He clapped his hands and

nodded to a lush brunette woman in a soft silver robe. “Belina, take the slave and clean her up as

best you can. Put some cellular repair cream on her bruises and wash her. Oh, and her gag stays

on. If she tries to resist you, cut her tongue out.”

“Yes, your lordship.” Belina tugged her to her feet by her hair and wrinkled her nose.

Shivering, Melania gave a useless jerk of her head and grimaced as the woman tightened her fist.

Lord Gozil laughed and said to the guards, “Thank you; we’ll take good care of the

treacherous bitch.”

* * *

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Ann Mayburn

“Ten ounces of zanthin,” a mechanical voice said from the speaker above her head.

Standing in the center of a darkened room, unable to make out anything past the glare of the

bright lights shining on her, Melania strained to see who was out there bidding on her.

Dressed now in a soft bronze gown slit up the sides to her armpits and held in place by a

brown leather belt, she stiffened her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance. The metal collar

around her throat dug into the back of her neck, but she refused to lower her head. If the buyers

thought she would be hard to tame, she might be able to avoid being purchased by a whorehouse.

All her years as a breaker served her now as she schooled her body to communicate her

will. She would not shrink like a beaten puppy or give any hint of the weakness that attracted

predators. The memory of Devnar’s ability to dominate a room briefly hurt her heart, but she

tried to push the thought away.

Hopefully she would get a new owner, someone unused to slaves and what to do with

them. Then all it would take was one opening, and she would escape and find Devnar. With the

bond between them, there was nowhere in the universe they could hide him that she couldn’t find

him. The irony of her thoughts made her lips twist into a bitter smile as the bids continued to

rise. Was this how Devnar had felt when he’d been captured? No wonder he’d been so angry

with her when they first met. It was truly a miracle that he had moved beyond his hate to love

her. She would prove worthy of that gift. She would be brave and strong and be the one to rescue

him.

The mechanical voice interrupted her planning, and she rubbed at a healing bruise on her

cheek. “Going once, going twice, sold for nineteen ounces of zanthin.”

The amount made her raise her eyebrows in shock, but she quickly schooled her face into a

bored expression. That was a great amount of money, especially for a slave. Though she had no

idea what zanthin was worth to her owner, on her planet that amount would be enough to run her

household for years. Too bad whoever bought her had just made the worst deal of their life.

The cellular reconstruction cream itched as it worked on the gash going down her left

forearm. Almost healed, the bruises were fading away as well and had gone from black to an

ugly yellow. Tension filled her body, and she waited for the door to open and her new owner to

claim her.

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125

She began to pace in her little room. The light fabric of the dress fluttered around her, and

she clasped her hands together, frowning at the metal cuffs encircling her wrists. Was it only

days ago Devnar had wanted her to wear his cuffs? To stretch out beneath him and let him use

her body any way he wanted.

Tears threatened to spill over again, and she gave her arm a cruel pinch. No more tears, not

where they could see her. To show weakness now would be a mistake. Devnar was waiting for

her, relying on her. The only consolation she could give herself was that Lord Mithrik wouldn’t

give him to Lady Grenba. Even if Devnar was an off-worlder, Lord Mithrik would never let

Lady Grenba keep him. Not with the addictive effects of his pheromones.

The door at the end of the room opened, and Belina appeared again. “Your new Master is

ready. Hurry up.”

Master. Her new owner was male. She followed Belina down the hallway toward where

Lord Gozil waited for them. After examining her from head to toe, he nodded at Belina, and she

left them alone together.

He twirled a length of red silk between his hands and said, “You’ve fetched quite a price.”

She said nothing, letting her eyes wander around the room as if bored. His chuckle let her

know she wasn’t fooling anyone. “I suppose it’s not that unusual. Once word spread that a real

breaker was coming up for auction, we had bidders coming in from all over the galaxy. If I had

my way, we would have delayed your sale. But Lord Mithrik wants you away from this planet as

soon as possible.”

She clenched her hands into fists and fought for control as a brush of anticipation filled

her. It pushed past her fear, and she had a moment to ponder it before Lord Gozil snapped her

wrist cuffs together. “Your new Master has requested you be blindfolded.”

“Why?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop herself. That was a stupid

question she already knew the answer to. “Because he owns me, and he wishes it so.”

The silk wrapped over her eyes, and she tried to tilt her head to see if she could peek under

or around it. Lord Gozil sighed, and she silently cursed him for tying such a good blindfold. The

snick
of a leash fastening to her collar made her stomach clench. She attempted to breathe past

her nausea.

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Ann Mayburn

“Easy,” Lord Gozil murmured.

She had a moment to wonder why he was being so kind with her before a sharp burn

pinched her arm. She jerked away and tried to rub her arm with her bound hands. “What did you

give me?”

“A mild aphrodisiac and sedative.” He gave her a pat on the head like one would give a

pet. “You’re new Master paid a lot for you. I want you giving him a good ride.”

“You bastard.” She tried to fight the effects of the sedative as her muscles relaxed against

her will. Warmth flowed through her body, and blood pooled in her groin. The drug traveled

through her system, both awakening her and relaxing her. Now she knew why Devnar had hated

the aphrodisiacs so much. Being robbed of her ability to choose to feel pleasure was an invasion

of the worst kind. Her lower lip trembled as she fought back the despair. No tears. They wouldn’t

get them from her.

Another man said in a low voice, “I’ll take it from here.”

She strained against the tug of her leash for a moment before following. Her muscles were

slow to respond, and she found her anger slipping away. Contentment flowed through her,

followed by a rush of joy. She tried to push past these chemical-induced emotions and focus on