Bound: The Inland Slave (2 page)

She had no idea what flaying meant but she nodded, and gave her word. They were quiet as they winded up the many hills back home. Katja got the impression he was holding his tongue, and silently wishing she’d remain faithful to her word she rushed to give. She did not intend to break it, if the punishment meant his death.

When she brought the slave to her room, she had her servant, Annett, draw a bath. After her slave washed away the dirt from the fields and wore fresh clothes, he looked proper, except taller and far more muscular than any gentleman she’d ever met. She took him to the kitchen, and she sent a message to her father as he polished off three bowls of soup.

“If you really were sold to someone else, I suggest you hide for the night, find me in my room tomorrow morning, and leave my father to me. He may tell me one thing, to get me to stop arguing, but then do the opposite.”

With her warning, he abandoned the soup without a word and hid out of sight. He disappeared only minutes before her father rushed home, pale with worry. His color returned after Katja told her father the entirety of the meeting with her slave. But with each passing hour as the slave went missing, Cade began to think the warrior ran off despite sounding eager to stay with Katja.

“He will be back, father.” Katja stressed, as he listened for sounds outside while he stoked the fire from within the sitting room.

“If he comes back, he’s yours. That was what I wanted all along. The savage won’t listen to me, and brawls like a drunkard. But if he so much as removes a hair on your head in violence, I’ll throw him into a hungry lion pit.”

“He will come back, and
I choose
what happens to him—including all his punishments.”

“Very well.” With a dismissive nod, her father seemed complacent, which was a good sign he would stick with his promise to leave him be.

2

Before dawn, Katja woke up with the slave in her room. Apparently he’d slept all night under her bed without her aware of it. He dreaded her father flaying him, slipped into her room, and hid. He never admitted where he was sneaking off to each evening, but she didn’t have to ask. She discover his hiding place a month later, when he apparently began to feel comfortable enough to sleep through the night, and began to have nightmares of war and being tortured. His low groans from under her bed gave him away, but she let him stay.

Night after night, she slowly began to like the sound of a man close. His gruff mutter and occasional soft snore was soothing. Mostly he barked commands to men that fought under his leadership, but occasionally he whimpered from pain. She dreaded the nights he dreamt of torture, because she could hear the torment in his voice and the description was so terrifying it haunted her.

His horrific dreams seemed to be getting worse as he relived his past when he slept. He sounded broken compared to the slave she saw during the day. While awake, he was a strong tower, quiet, and demanding when he was watching over her, going everywhere she went. And she watched him closely, finding more and more she liked to keep her eyes on him; if he’d catch her staring, she’d simply smile while not bothering to turn away, because she owned him. She had every right to stare at him. Her slave rarely said anything, and when he did, he’d tell her to take him to the kitchen so he could eat or he wanted her to leave the house so he wasn’t idle. He didn’t like to rest, but in the quiet still of night, she understood why.

One night, when his whimpers woke her, and she could no longer let him stay under his bed alone, Katja hung her head over the side of the bed, letting her curly, honey-golden hair sweep the floor as she peered under the frame where he slept. In the glow of the dying firelight, she could see the shadow of his massive body lying flat on the cold floor, but he kept twitching his legs as he groaned. No matter how many times her father told her that she should dehumanize the slave, he certainly looked like a man to her.

She slid sideways off the bed, quietly lowered herself to the floor, and then slipped under the frame. She reached out for him, and a second later, she screamed but no sound escaped. Once she touched him, he suddenly awoke and clinched his fingers tightly around her neck. He pinned her down with his palm while compressing her windpipe so she couldn’t even scream. In panic, she flailed her legs as she scratched at his hand. His stormy eyes were cold, and he looked like he would murder her in misplaced rage. She kicked him hard, and slowly he realized what he was doing before he loosened his grasp. When she struck him again, he slid two feet from her, and for a moment, they stared at each other. Katja fell still, paralyzed in fear, and she hoped he’d keep his distance.

When he didn’t move, she managed to whisper, “You’re not okay.” She rubbed her tender throat. He didn’t reply, but stared at her. “I…was going to sleep down here with you, so we could rest well instead of you dream terrible things.” Again, he remained silent, but he lay his head down again and stretched out his arm.

Now that he was awake and knew her intent, she didn’t feel like moving in closer to him—not after choking her. They didn’t talk much in the last month, and he was still a stranger to her, a beautiful stranger that she slowly realized had gorgeous gray eyes. As he commanded her to him, simply by locking his gaze on her, she decided to turn her back to him so she didn’t have to see the man who terrified her one minute and fascinated her the other. She put her head on his hand, staying as far from him as possible. Once she did however, he put his arm around her waist as if it belonged there.

She held her breath, and peered down to his hand. He’d touched her before; he’d handed her books from tall shelves as his fingers grazed hers, lifted her as she mounted her mare, and even carried her across mud puddles when it rained. But his steady hand on her waist, pressing low against her belly, felt remarkably different. His touch warmed her from the inside, and surprisingly she wanted him to keep his thrilling contact on her belly all night. She even wished he’d explore more of her, by rubbing up her arms or down her legs. But he didn’t, and because she wanted his still hands to move with such desperation, she had a hard time falling asleep.

Katja almost dozed off when he roused her. Possibly, he thought she was sleeping when he whispered: “I keep dreaming of my village burning down with my two young kids inside our home. I was trying to save them when the king’s men captured me. I lost a quarter of my army that day, only to find out my wife was already dead and it was a trap.” That was all he said, and she was glad he didn’t divulge more. For some reason she didn’t like hearing he had a family in his previous life. He was the first man she’d come across, but she wasn’t the first woman he’d met. She closed her eyes and wondered if she should say she was sorry that he saw more hardship than anyone should have to endure, but he slid her to his chest and breathed warm air on the nape of her neck, taking any comfort he needed. Katja was pleasantly surprised how much she loved her slave holding her while they slept, and soon drifted to sleep with the warmth of his body. As she hoped, he slept soundly, too.

“I CAN DO THAT, Annett.” Katja said to her servant as she put ointment onto her slaves back. Katja didn’t like another woman touching him, even if Annett had white hair or vowed never to love another man when her partner died after forty years of happy life with him.

Katja took the stinky ointment from Annett and excused her from the room. She waited until Annett left before she faced her slave, but didn’t look him in the eye. She shyly waited for him to turn around.

“Your branding is almost unrecognizable, and your back is mending nicely. Your skin is pink and tight, but other than that it looks perfectly healed.” She dipped her finger into the ointment and smeared it onto his largest scar that felt tough.

“I’m mending nicely, besides all the scars.” He contradicted.

“Yes, but they don’t look
too
bad.” She lied. Truthfully, the old, puffy wounds that covered his back were painful to look at—a true eyesore.

“They look better than being dead.”

She was surprised that after seeing so much, and losing everything he still valued his life. She wondered what he had to look forward to in his bleak future. “You’re a slave. You exist to serve me. How can you find pleasure in that? I would think you hopeless, and not view the days ahead as positive.”

She rubbed his back, and slowed her fingers when she realized how much she liked touching him. Holding her all night had an effect on her. Katja daringly smeared ointment to his side, and the only part of his back that was smooth and soft. For a moment, she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers into his sides before drawing them toward his spine. She liked his thick body, and tall build.

When she opened her eyes, she watched him turn his head, and glance in her direction over his shoulder. “I’m your slave, yes, but one day you will be mine.”

She took a step back from him, and didn’t hide her offence. “I would
never
be a slave to an inland warrior. You’re a traitor. I hear you’re not even a man. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not human.”

“Trust me. I’m a hot-blooded man like every other in this world. I
will
rule you, and all that I ask in private you’ll demand as your desire. Once you sleep with me, I’ll own you. You will never marry and leave me to another master who’d beat me daily. With my life on the line, my motivation is unstoppable. You’re as good as mine, and I knew that when you came to me last night. You’re half in love with me already, but you haven’t decided to give in to your feelings.” He turned around so she’d continue to put ointment on him.

“You’re entirely wrong!
Get out
!” She yelled and pointed to her room door.

“And our trip to the market?” He faced her and grinned, but she had no idea why. Her only guess was he was a cocky son of a bitch.

“Get out!” When he didn’t, she stomped out of the room, and told Annett to finish treating his back. She was still aggravated as she made her way downstairs in a huff, and found her father eating soft-boiled eggs from within the shell.

“What is wrong, my darling?”

“My slave seems to think he is in charge.” She collapsed in a chair and snatched an apple from the bowl in the middle of the table. The woman sitting by her father’s side was Noreen Braun, one of three women that frequently stayed the night in lieu of paying taxes. Noreen glanced at Katja with a suppressed a smile that mocked her troubles as if Katja had none.

“If you don’t want him beat, Katja, of course he’ll think that.” Her father said.

“If you won’t strike him, use sex to control him. Any man would crumble.” Noreen advised. Katja’s mouth dropped. She didn’t think Noreen could possibly be serious, but Noreen herself had very loose rules of conduct. Widowed women usually all thought the same way. They did what they needed to survive in a world where men were supposed to provide for women, and everyone else turned a blind eye instead of imprisoning them for their immoral behavior.

Her shocking statement was nearly as perplexing as the contradictory statement to what her slave said. She was about to ask how sex controlled a man, but then Noreen added, “It’s effective. And he’ll take better care of you.”

“Noreen, don’t put ideas in my daughter’s head. It’s scandalous for to her sleep with anyone before she’s wed.”

“Yet I sleep with you.” Noreen interrupted her father, and then put a hand on Katja’s knee as she confided, “And it’s not without benefit.”

“You’re also a widow, and it’s not scandalous considering I am a widower. She’ll end up having his child and…I don’t want to think about it! Don’t say such things! She needs paired with a suitable partner as soon as possible, and learn to beat her slave. She will learn.”

Katja flushed red when her slave came downstairs and passed the dining room doorway, heading to the kitchens for breakfast where the servants ate. She squirmed in her seat, hoping he didn’t hear what her father or his lover said. “You could give your slave to me if you want him disciplined.”

“No, father! He is my slave! Don’t touch him!” She stood from her chair, deciding she’d leave them to their breakfast.

3

Katja skipped a few stairs as she hurried outside with every intention of going on a long walk. She treaded along the stream that eventually spilled into the wide river heading out to sea. Despite the cool day, the sun was bright as the wind blew. She sped along to keep warm.

To her dismay, it wasn’t long before she spotted her slave trailing behind her. She didn’t stop, but hiked faster around thick trees and tall brushes to escape him. He quickly gained ground with each passing minute, and she couldn’t successfully throw him off course to lose him. Soon avoiding him was impossible, and she turned around, tapping her foot until he caught up.

“Go away. I didn’t ask you to come here.”

“Your father told me to follow you.”

“Since when do you answer to him?”

“Since I decided I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Go away. I’m serious, slave. I have no use for you.”

“I could show you what to do with me.” This time he had a suggestive grin and no decency to remove it. She shoved him as hard as she could, but he stood unfazed.

“I want to push you downriver, that’s something I could do with you.”

Suddenly he cupped her face, and kissed her hard. She felt his teeth crash into her, and when she opened her mouth in protest, he licked the tip of her tongue before sealing their lips together. Katja escaped his arms and then slapped him. “How dare you! You have
no right
kissing me!” He searched her eyes, and watched her bring her fingers to her lips. She hoped he didn’t see that a small part of her wished he’d do it again. The lingering tingle on her lips from his kiss confused her. She liked him taking her as he had, but he had a plan to use her and she didn’t like his determination. “You can’t just haul off a kiss a girl!”

“Why are you fighting me, Katja? You either don’t want me or you’re a virgin.”