Slaves of Love (8 page)

A rumbling started, and the vehicle lurched forward, slamming Shena against one of the newcomers, who hit the door with a thud. The floor bounced below them. Shena pressed her hand against the door and eased herself to the floor, as did the other two women.

The slaver ship lay about a hundred meters ahead. Big, flat, dull silver. The hull, which had always appeared smooth from a distance, was made up of all kinds of panels with handles and devices jutting out. The ships had always looked so tiny up in the sky, but this one seemed gigantic, with its yawning door and the darkness within.

The guards herded the women onto the ramp leading to the door. Shena’s knees almost buckled as she realized her father’s nightmare threat had finally become a reality.

She had been sold to the slavers.

The large hatch closed behind them, blocking out the setting sun and probably her last view of her world.

Shena and the others were led to a large open area just inside the ship’s entrance. One by one, their chains were removed, and they were left standing there for a long time. Finally, a tall, bearded man followed by two guards came and led them into a narrow corridor. After a few turns left and right, one of the guards opened a door to an empty room about fifteen feet square. The women plodded inside, glancing around. In the walls, there were niches about six feet long and two feet high. They were stacked six high, about twenty-four in all. Shena did a quick count of the women. Twenty-two including herself.

“I think that’s where we sleep,” one woman whispered.

“Silence.” The tall, bearded man strode into the center of the room. A guard closed the door.

“Most of you will be taken to E’Le’Dor, where you will be sold as slaves. Along the way, we will stop at two more worlds, where we will pick up more slaves. When we are on planet, many of you will be loaned to the local brothels.”

“What happens to the ones who aren’t taken to E’Le’Dor?” a woman to his right asked.

Shena didn’t see exactly what happened, but she did see the woman fall to the floor, writhing in pain, one of the guards standing over her.

Ignoring the woman’s wails, the speaker continued. “I didn’t say you could ask questions.”

He paced a few feet, then back again.

“Once you are sold, your new owner can do anything he wants to you. He can touch you anywhere. He can fuck you anywhere. He can make you suffer in any way he likes. He can even kill you.”

He stared at them with steely eyes. “Get used to the fact that your body is his. Learn to pleasure him, and you may survive longer.”

She glanced up at the black rod he held in front of him. He shifted it in front of his face, stopping in front of his eyes. Her gaze met his for a brief instant.

“I told you never to make eye contact!” he snapped.

He pointed the rod at her again. This time, the pain became completely immobilizing. She fell to the floor, writhing. Her limbs flung outward and her body twitched involuntarily as every nerve-end, every muscle, every organ felt as though it would explode. She prayed for anything, even death, to end the excruciating torture.

Shena’s heart thumped loudly as she glanced at the close walls around her. She felt like she was in a coffin. Could it get any worse than this?

A few moments later, the lights went out, leaving her in pitch-black darkness. She felt as though she’d been buried alive.

The next morning, Shena awoke exhausted, but relieved to climb out of the tiny sleeping space and thankful to find her limbs working fine again, if a little stiff. Most of the night she’d lain awake, despair coursing through her at the thought of Keern’s death.

She and the other women were handed bowls of warm, tasteless food that didn’t quite fill their stomachs. Then they were led outside the ship to a large, fenced area with over a hundred women inside. Shena’s group consisted of the women taken in yesterday. The other women had been with the slavers longer, she realized, as evidenced by their downcast eyes and dirty, bedraggled appearance.

Once inside the pen, Shena stayed away from the fences. There were several men in the area, some loading and unloading wagons or performing various other tasks and some just milling about. One was reading a newspaper, and the word “Herrington” caught her eye. It was in the front-page headline. She stared, trying to make out the rest, but with the way he had it folded, the only parts she could make out were “Herrington” and “Wak.” The man shifted the paper, and the word “Dead” became visible.

Her heart thundered in her chest. The paper held the answer to the question she so desperately wanted answered. Was Keern still alive?

“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t see the mark.” The woman’s gaze had come to rest on the circle on Shena’s arm. “You’d get in big trouble for that.”

The woman glanced at the man with the paper. “Is it really important to you?”

Shena nodded.

The woman called out to the guy. “Hey, you. With the newspaper.” The man glanced toward her. “I’d love a little news. How ’bout you give me that paper?”

“I can see lots of those for free when the
graebers
come bribin’ ye with food.”

One of the other women whispered in Shena’s ear. “Part of the payoff to the local police for the slavers to operate here is that they let them come and offer food in exchange for favors from the women.” She pointed to places in the fence with holes large enough for things to be passed in and out.

Shena’s new friend opened the buttons of her top, slowly, then parted the fabric enough to show a little cleavage. The man’s gaze locked on her fleshy curves.

One of the other women who had overheard Shena’s desire to see the paper leaned close to him and said in a muffled whisper that Shena could just barely hear, “She only wants the fashion section. Give her a page at a time.”

He smiled, then said, “Show me all of ’em, and I’ll give you the first page.”

The dark-haired woman pulled open her top, and his jaw dropped. She had the largest breasts Shena had ever seen. He shoved the first page through the bars. The woman who’d whispered grabbed the page and carried it over to Shena.

He grabbed one of the women through the bars and dragged her against the fence, but one of the guards pushed him away. The women laughed, which made the guy angrier, but the guards prodded him on his way.

Shena pulled the page open and began to read the article, which revealed that her father had gone after the Herringtons and killed one of them. Her heart lurched as she read the words, until she saw the first name.

Will. Not Keern.

She relaxed, relieved, yet knowing Keern must be suffering the loss of his brother. The words blurred as she read how her father had killed him and the eldest remaining brother, Keern, had killed her father.

Her father was dead, and she felt nothing for him. Only a coldness deep inside.

The article went on to say Keern blamed the daughter for his brother’s death because she’d lied about an encounter between them, after which, according to the reporter, she’d claimed Keern had raped her.

She remembered his tender touch and the way he’d brought her exquisite pleasure. He must feel mortally wounded believing she would call such a thing rape.

The words at the bottom of the page indicated that the article continued on a later page, which Shena did not have. The paper dropped from her hands.

A fist tightened around her heart as she thought about the pain Keern must be in.

He blamed her for his brother’s death. And rightly so. Although she hadn’t told her father Keern had raped her, she had verified his identity to her father. Maybe if she had lied ... Maybe if she had held her tongue ...

If only she could change things so that she and Keern had never met.

Her soul ached as she could almost feel his hatred gripping her.

* * * * *

Two days after Will’s funeral, Keern and his family sat in court. He and the chief constable had gone back to the Wakefield house and tried to find Shena, but no one knew her whereabouts, or so they had claimed. As the judge entered the courtroom and sat at his desk, Keern glanced around. Still no Shena.

After listening to all the statements from Keern’s family and their men, the chief constable had agreed they had acted in self-defense, but with so many rumors bouncing around about the reason for Wakefield’s attack, this hearing was being held to determine if Keern would be tried for the rape of Shena Wakefield and possibly the murder of Henry Wakefield. Since Shena was the key witness, Keern was amazed she wasn’t here.

As the proceedings progressed, he kept an eye on the door and another on the clock, wondering when she would make her entrance. As the minutes ticked away, he began to realize she wasn’t coming. His gut twisted as he wondered if something had happened to her -- and cursed himself for caring.

The judge glanced through his glasses at the papers on his desk. He cleared his throat, the sound reverberating through the large wood-paneled room.

“Mr. Herrington, in your statement, you say that Mr. Wakefield attacked your family and killed your elder brother, Will, and in turn, you killed Wakefield. Since he was the one who instigated the attack, you claim you acted in self-defense and the defense of your family.”