Читать книгу The Bid - JAX - Страница 10

Vejhon staggered to his feet entirely on principle.

He fell back against the wall that had just spit him out and continued to gasp for breath. His body still quaked with shock and exhaustion, so he gave himself the luxury of a minute to pull himself together.

He had to admit…he had no idea what to think or what to feel. He’d run through every extreme emotion there was in the past hour or so, not to mention being on a nonstop high of hatred and wrath whenever he’d been given the luxury of consciousness these past months. His body felt as though it had been pushed through every military endurance test of his lifetime, except it was as though he’d tackled them back to back to back. He looked down at his wrists first. Oddly enough, he hadn’t seen them bare in months, so there was something extremely surreal about the absence of the imprisoning cuffs. He also hadn’t realized he’d developed both scars and callouses on both of them. Probably his ankles as well. The thigh, chest, and biceps restraints had been used much less frequently once he’d been submerged in stasis, so the damage from them was minimal.

At the moment, however, each of those contact points were bleeding, except there had been no biceps restraints in place here. No doubt so that blue-skinned bitch could collar his arm as if he were a prized pet.

Vejhon reached for the band and examined it, tugging at it even though he already knew it was anchored firmly in place. If there was a trick to it, he’d have to figure it out later. Right then, he needed to wrap his head around a few other things first.

For example, why had he been set free? The room was loaded with windows along one side, some of the glass appearing to be plate. Granted, it was likely to be “unbreakable,” but in his experience, if it had a seam, it had a weakness. Fortified by this prospect, Vejhon tried a few steps across the room. Again, that surreal sensation. Like stepping on solid land after sailing or riding space, it felt queer to move his weight forward without having it instantly restrained.

He made his way to the first window, laying a hand on the smooth surface and looking out at the planet that was trying to claim him. What he saw was a vast sweep of well-tended grounds that led to a fortified wall. Sentries walked the top of the wall and along the lawns, and were stationed at the one gate he could see. Vejhon’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out if all of that was to keep people in, keep people out, or both. For the time being, he voted on both. After all, it was a slave-driven economy from what he had gathered, and you couldn’t have your assets escaping.

He also could see that House Drakoulous was situated high enough on a hill to afford a spectacular view of the enormous and densely populated city all around it. From what he could see, there were a few big houses up high like this and the size and manner of housing decreased the lower into the city you went.

It never ceased to amaze him how standard things could be from culture to culture, even with vast amounts of stars and black space lying between them. Vejhon had actually never traveled away from Wite until the wars. Into those years he had been forced to concentrate a good deal of experience in xenoculture. It hadn’t been so hard once he had figured out the constants. Most cultures had a class or caste system, most had an economy, and many were populated by humanoids. Upright walking bipedals were a recurring theme no matter how strange the stage.

Though he had to admit, this was the first time he’d been to a culture where everyone was blue. Most of the guards were blue skinned, and from what he could see of the pedestrians walking the city pathways, his captor had been telling the truth when she’d warned him how easily he would stand out.

As Vejhon ran his hand over the glass of the window, inspecting it for a weakness, he tried not to think about Hanna Drakoulous. The things she had said and the things she had done only jumbled up his brain and his emotions, and he needed to focus on basic survival at the moment. Beauty, lust, and treachery could wait for a while.

There was no actual window, he quickly realized. All of the “windows” were made of stone. It was a fascinating piece of engineering and clearly of optical technology. What better way to see the world outside, yet maintain total privacy? Perhaps cameras outside of the windows reflected back the view, because as he moved from window to window the vista was flawless in depth and perspective. He’d never seen anything like it.

Vejhon’s travels along the wall of windows had brought him to the section of the room dedicated to grooming and bathing. The deep oval tub suddenly looked appealing, his wrist and ankle joints whining for some heat and clean water to ease their woes. After all, it had been next to forever since he’d bathed; since he’d done much of anything really. Eat. Sleep a real sleep. See the out-of-doors. Be in the out-of-doors. And since he doubted that last one was going to occur anytime soon, maybe he was best off taking advantage of the opportunity to rest and gather his strength and wits. Gods knew he had to figure out what kind of game it was that Hanna was trying to play on him. Then he had to figure out how to suffocate the life out of the manipulative piece of xenotrash. Once he covered all of that, he’d haul ass off of this planet as fast as possible.

He walked toward the tub, examining it in order to figure out how it worked. Wite had used ultraviolet cleansing technology for a while now, but he’d experienced the luxury of water baths before. Vejhon took a step down to get a better look and instantly the sound of sliding stone sounded as two portals opened in the far side of the tub and water surged out of them at incredible speed. Before he knew it, the tub was full and hot and he was experiencing the first act of civilization he’d been allowed since this had all started. The simplistic right to take a bath. It galled him that he recalled Hanna ordering him to do exactly that before she had left, but not enough to be stubborn about it.

In truth, the woman was right about one thing: he wasn’t the man he had been when he’d last had a foot on Wite. Nothing would change the fact that at heart he was a soldier…and a stone-cold killer when he had to be, but that man would never have paused to bathe and think before all of this. The diehard soldier would have been throwing himself around like a trapped animal trying to escape.

But if he’d learned anything from this experience, it was that anyone could be brought down in value to absolute nothingness, and it was humbling to know he wasn’t as invincible as he’d always thought he was. So now he would think. Rest, build strength, bide time and information, and work it all out right. It had to be right. He’d never make it out of the city alive if it wasn’t, never mind off the planet. The truth was he knew next to nothing about where he was and how things worked. It was vital he learned, even if it meant playing nice with his enemy for a while.

The very idea of cozying up to the woman who had violated and humiliated him left a taste like acid in his mouth and sparked his banked anger. He rubbed his temple as pain lanced through his head in response. He forced himself to resist the urge to spend time wishing seven kinds of death on her. It would be a waste of time and energy, and it certainly wouldn’t make him feel any better about what had happened. He focused instead on washing away all remaining evidence of her crime against him, as well as the haunting echo of her touch on his flesh.

Female Masters of High Houses wear these everywhere. They never go anywhere without them.

That is what she had said about that thrice-damned ring she’d used.

Except…she hadn’t been wearing it. Not when she had arrived and not when she had left. Still, if this was her playroom, why would she need to wear it anywhere else? It made sense that she could keep it here to be used only with her latest toys.

Vejhon exited the bath feeling a bit more grounded and truly refreshed. The aches in his muscles had been eased away by the heat of the water and his wounds were cleansed. He found some medic patches on the countertop with the towels. He dried himself and tended his wounds. Best of all, the towel became the first thing like clothing he had worn in a hell of a long time.

He ignored the bed for the moment, deciding to explore everything more thoroughly. The room wasn’t obviously bugged or monitored from what he could find, but he didn’t take it for granted. There was technology here that he’d never seen before and anything was possible. He peeked in the small cabinets and drawers of the furnishings scattered about, and then made his way to the large wardrobe near her chest of jewelry and trickery. Honestly, between the rack of hooks and that chest of subversive baubles, he was expecting the worst when he found the doors to the wardrobe unlocked and pulled them open.

What he found was clothing. A lot of it. Rich fabrics, top to bottom, inside and out, everything he could need and amazingly all in his size. Clearly, Hanna had gone to great trouble to be prepared for him. Vejhon shut the doors and turned his back on the finery. Oh, he’d need it eventually if he was going to get out of there, but at the moment he didn’t feel like dressing up for the bitch like some pretty, well-behaved doll.

Like Najir. The clothes were similar to what he’d seen on the other slave.

Man. Other man. Vejhon was no slave and refused to refer to himself that way. She said it was inevitable and that he’d have to accept it? Well, fine. Let the inevitable find him. He wasn’t going to make it easy. So he decided to head over to the bed and, after pulling everything back and inspecting it sternly, he chose to lie down. Or to be more honest, his body decided for him. Between his draining ordeal and the drawing heat of his bath, he was asleep before his head hit the pillows.

“Good morning, Master Drakoulous.”

Hanna drew to a halt and turned with perfect poise and posture to face her greeter. She felt Najir come to a stop behind her, the tension rippling through his body a force of energy she could almost taste. However, she trusted Najir not to show any outward signs of his hostile emotions as the Baron of Majum House approached them.

“Good morning, Baron,” she returned, smiling pleasantly as she exchanged politeness with the enemy of her House. The Feuds were ended, and she would obey the law, but she knew Majum would not. The man had murdered her parents and countless others. He had a taste for it and a talent for it and people like that didn’t just stop. Neither did they let go of lifelong grudges and feelings of vendetta.

“How do you find your new toy, my dear? I must say, I hope he was worth the bid. As envious as I am, no mere flesh is worth such a price.” The Baron walked up so that he was close enough for her senses to absorb the smaller details about him. It might not deceive her, but it always amazed her that such handsomeness and appearance of refinement could be grown over so foul a soil.

“Oh, he was worth the price,” she assured him, meeting his dark eyes with all her honest pleasure pouring out of her. “He was worth the price and so much more. Najir has been amply rewarded for his keen eye and quick bidding on my behalf.”

“I’ll bet he was,” the Baron said, his air unsuccessful in hiding his sudden stiffening. “Perhaps now that you have a new confection, you will consider selling the old. He’s getting a bit long in years, isn’t he?”

“Najir?” She laughed as though it were the most ridiculous concept on the planet. “Najir is as fit and fine as the day I bought him.”

“Out from under me as well, if I recall,” he said with a chuckle that sounded as forced as it was.

“The perils of an open auction I am afraid, Baron,” was her sweetly polite reply. “No, Baron, Najir will make a fine match to the new slave. I plan them to be the finest pair of studs ever seen, the envy of every woman in High City.”

The Baron’s false smile faded as he stepped a little closer and lowered his voice for her ears alone. “Tell me, Hanna, why do you persist in baiting me? You know I will find a way to wound you.” He raised his voice again. “I am curious why I have not seen your brother Kaino around in so many months. He is sorely missed at all the clubs.”

Hanna felt the strike go through her chest, her heart pounding hard from the pain of it as she narrowed eyes on the Baron. She wondered if he realized how very hard she resisted the instinctual urge she had to rip his throat out. The Baron knew very well that Kaino had gone off on a journey to “find himself.” The idea had been that he would travel the world and see how others lived and thrived. Other cultures had always fascinated him. However, despite his promises to keep in touch, Kaino’s communications had abruptly ceased only two months after he had left. Ever since then, Majum had persisted in dropping these poisonous hints that he’d had something to do with that…and that she wasn’t likely to hear from Kaino ever again.

“I believe I mentioned before that he is traveling. He is a grown man with a taste for adventure, and I doubt I will be able to lure him back here anytime soon when there is a world to be explored. Of course, he is only third in line to inherit, so he even has the option of going offworld.” Hanna did not lower her voice as she delivered her counterstrike. In fact, she raised it. “I thank you for asking after my family, Baron. Tell me, how does your nephew fare? You must be so delighted that in only two years he will reach majority and no longer be in need of your guardianship. He will finally be able to take all of your burdens as acting Master to House Majum away from you as he claims his rightful inheritance. Is he well?” Again her quick, cunning smile of perfect pleasantness. “I would hate for some mysterious illness to affect him as it did his poor sister. What a tragedy for you to lose the girl while she was in your care! I know you must be striving with all effort to see your nephew arrives healthy and happy at his waiting seat in the Chamber of Masters.”

“He’s quite healthy I assure you.” The Baron made his assurance through tight teeth as he glanced around at the other Masters who stood nearby on the steps to the Chamber of Masters. They were observing the exchange with interest…some even with unconcealed amusement. “When he takes his seat, it will be as though I am right there beside him. I’m training him well.”

“I’m sure you are teaching him everything you possibly can.”

To anyone who knew the Baron, the implication was clear. Since everyone at hand was a peer, few felt the remark slip past them without understanding.

“My Lady,” Najir interrupted softly at her back. “The Chamber convenes in five minutes.”

“So it does. Well, we shouldn’t be late, Majum. I will take my seat, and you will take your nephew’s for now. Business as usual, then.”

She nodded a farewell and went to leave, but she had barely moved a step when the Baron’s hand clamped like a vice around her arm. He found her ear as he jerked her shoulder hard against his chest.

“Beware that clever tongue, Hanna, or I will cut it out and lay it beside your brother’s. Or perhaps I will take your heir’s first and leave your House without succession. I hear your sister Ashanna is impossible for you to control these days, and I would hate to cut apart one Drakoulous bitch only to have her replaced with another. I already made that mistake with your mother.”

Hanna turned her head slowly and met the Baron’s black eyes with cold contempt and fury in hers. This time she joined him in his whispers.

“Now let me warn you, Wheyn,” she hissed, his name dripping from her lips like spit-out poison, “that unlike my mother, my nature is not so peaceful. Pray your taunts about my brother are never proven, because if I discover you touched even the air around him, I will eviscerate you. I will bathe my face in your blood and then lick away every drop with ultimate pleasure afterwards.”

Her threat was so unexpectedly vivid and vicious that the Baron released her arm and took a step back. The believability Vejhon had discovered in her eyes was not exclusive to him. Majum could see the coldness of her truth and the honesty of her threat. He had never realized that the daughter of so temperate a woman as her mother could ever be so ruthless. Where had she learned it from? And where did she hide it? Even he couldn’t help exposing his less savory side in public now and then. In her eight years as Master of her House, she had given no clue at all to her bloodthirsty nature. Should he believe her? It was more than likely a bluff…

Wheyn flicked his eyes to Najir. The slave had stood passive the entire time, although he had been close enough to catch some of the exchange. The slave would pay with his life if he attacked a free man of any rank without permission to protect his Master’s life, but the big bastard looked as though he didn’t much care. Najir clearly wanted to rip Wheyn’s head from his body.

Impressive. If Majum hadn’t hated the bitch with such a passion, he’d ask her how she managed to control the brute, even when it was obvious he did not wish to be in control of himself. Whatever her technique, he was beginning to think that she might even be able to break in her new confection as well one day. As he watched her walk off, Najir in tow, he forced himself to master the furious scream of jealousy the idea sent ripping through him.