Kept: An Erotic Anthology (44 page)

“Aye.” He looked me up and down. “First rule, keep your head down. Don’t speak to anyone without my permission. Stand a foot behind me unless I tell you otherwise. Obey me straight away, no matter what.”

Panic welled up in my chest again. “That’s a lot of rules.”

“If you mess up, it’s okay. I’ll correct you. But if you backtalk me, I’ll have to punish you.”

I had a feeling he didn’t mean a lecture or time-out. I also got the feeling he didn’t mind the idea of punishing me.

Asking for details about that would only cause more anxiety so I ignored it for now and made a mental note not to backtalk. “Okay.”

“I can pass you for a new slave, but being mouthy will no’ be tolerated.”

“I get it. I’ll do whatever you say. Should I call you ‘sir’ too?” I’d meant to be sarcastic but he grinned wickedly.

“Aye. Sir or Master.”

I scowled at him. “Sir is…tolerable.” Barely.

He chuckled lightly. “And you’ll be ‘girl.’ Make sure you respond to it.” Turning from me, he rifled through his bag.

“Aye,” I said, copying his accent then I giggled. “Aye, aye, captain.”

“Get it out now, girl.” When he turned back around, his fist was closed around something I couldn’t see. “In a few minutes, you’ll have to hold your tongue.” His gaze swept over me once, twice then he grinned. The wickedness even reached his eyes. “Come here.”

Shakily, I walked to him. What now?

He uncurled his fist and a braided leather cord sat in his palm. “Lift your hair.”

“Why?”

Arching a brow, he
tsked
me. “Are you supposed to question me, little one?”

I rolled my eyes. “We haven’t started yet.”

Heaving a sigh, he held out the cord-like necklace and explained, “You need to wear a mark of ownership. Something that tells the other males you’re taken.” Looking a little ashamed, he added, “This is all I have. If I had more time, I’d have gotten something nicer.”

“That’s silly. You barely know me.”

“Women deserve pretty things. Any man worth his kilt knows that.”

Unable to help myself, I grinned up at him. Jeez. Had my relationships been so bad in the past that I was actually enamored with a man about to make me his slave? That didn’t bode well for my future…or my sanity.

“It’s a nice necklace anyway.”

“Collar.”

“What?”

He stepped back after tying it on then stared at it. “It’s a collar.”

“Like a dog?” I grimaced.

“Like something to be protected.”

“Some
thing
?”

“You see it as objectification.” He fingered the cord, making goose bumps rise on my skin. “We see it as an intense and consensual relationship. Women are held in high esteem. We collar them to mark them and protect them.” His eyes glinted with mischief and he smiled. “Nobody
fooks
with a collared woman.”

It took me a moment before I realized he’d dropped the f-bomb. Then I broke into laughter. “And you say I have a nasty mouth.”

“Aye, you do.” He let go of the cord and chucked me under the chin. “You curse too much for such a pretty girl.”

“I’m not pretty,” I mumbled under my breath. I was average. No, worse. I was a jackass magnet.

Baen went back to his bag and sorted through it again. This time he pulled out a green kilt.

“Are you serious? A kilt?”

He nodded and started untying his boots. Next, he unbuttoned his jeans. I swallowed hard and realized I couldn’t look away. Just before he pulled them down, he looked at me and froze.

“Just remember, if you’re goin’ to watch me get undressed, I’m goin’ to watch you later. Fair’s fair.”

I tore my gaze from him and spun around. His cocky chuckle echoed in my ears. When had laughter ever sounded so sexy? Since I couldn’t watch, I imagined it in my mind. Were his legs thick like tree trunks? Probably. It matched the rest of him. I’d bet his chest and biceps were lickable too. Even through his shirt, I’d been able to see the definition of his muscles.

“You can turn ‘round now,” he breathed in my ear, scaring the bejeesus out of me.

I jumped then spun around, flushed and angry. “You scared the shit out of me!” On instinct, I went to smack him, but he caught my wrist in the air.

“Don’t you think to strike me, lass,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “You won’t like what happens.”

Flutters took off in my stomach. A thrill rushed from there to my pussy, where I felt all warm and gooey. Fuck. Why did these threats keep turning me on? Annoyed at my reaction, I tried to yank free from his grip.

He merely held me harder and arched a brow. “What do you say, girl?”

Pride demanded I let loose a few more curse words, but my head reminded me this was good practice for later. I needed to learn so I could avoid punishment, and more importantly, angering the Order. Plus, I was pretty sure my libido was in charge right now, and she wanted to fuck him up against the tree.

I ventured a guess at the most submissive-like response. “I’m sorry, Sir?” It came out quiet and obedient-like instead of sarcastic like I’d meant it to. How could I want to simultaneously kick him, rape him, and simper up at him all at the same time? It was maddening.

He gave a curt nod and released me. “Don’t say it with a question next time.”

Space. I needed space. Time to think, to regain my balance. I backed away a few steps. “Well, I wasn’t sure if it was the right answer. You haven’t exactly given me a handbook or anything.”

I finally caught a long look at him in the kilt. Considering it was basically a skirt, I didn’t expect it to look so sexy. Somehow he’d managed to take something feminine and make it one of the most masculine things I’d ever seen. From his shaggy hair and bare chest down to his boots laced up around his thick calves, he looked like a warrior from another time. Or like a model about to do a photo shoot for some new kind of rugged cologne inspired by the Highlands. A horse could gallop by any minute and I’d expect him to grab its reins then hop on while telling me Evian’s new vitamin water gives him the power he needs to fight the Kingdom of England in the war for independence.

I told myself to swallow so I wouldn’t drool. His mouth was moving. Was he talking to me?

“Apologizing is a safe bet when you’re unsure of what to say,” he said. “You could also say, ‘this slave is deeply sorry for any trouble it’s caused its master.’”

That snapped me from my lust-induced haze.

He looked at me expectantly. I was starting to recognize his teasing face. His eyes crinkled a tiny bit at the corners.

“I’m
not
referring to myself in the third person. Do you know how mixed up I’d get with that? It’d be a disaster.”

He chuckled then held out the pen transporter thingy. “Time to go.”

My stomach dropped upon seeing that awful device. “Do we have to use that thing again? My back still hurts from landing badly the first time.”

“I’ll hold onto you better this time.”

That’d been an option the first time? I stared at him, grimacing.

He cracked a smile. “Come on, little slave girl. Don’t let your courage fail you now.”

Grumbling, I walked to him. He dropped his arm on my shoulders, making me feel small but protected. Then he grabbed the bag off the ground, pressed the button, and the scenery faded away.

Chapter 3

“Why wasn’t it that easy the first time?” I practically shouted, upon landing lightly on my feet.

“Sorry. You fought me last time and I lost my grip.”

Oh. Somewhere in the realm of all things possible, where I now lived, that made sense. I stepped out from under his arm and took a look around. The scenery resembled that of our last stop – the green hills and cloudy sky – except that a short distance away a tent camp sat next to a brook.

Smoke rose up from between the big canvas tents here and there. The tents themselves reminded me of circus tents, only smaller. There were no solid buildings in the little camp that I could see.

I groaned. So much for a luxurious stay at a hotel. Or even a warm and cozy wood cabin. We’d be camping. Glorious, dirty, no plumbing camping. Great.

“Why do you look so upset?” Baen asked as he reached into his bag again. This time he pulled out a thick belt with a sheath attached.

“I wasn’t expecting a camp site,” I answered numbly as I watched him buckle it on. “What the fuck else do you have in your Mary Poppins bag?”

Worry grew in his eyes and he took a quick look around us. No one was nearby. I’d already checked. “Watch your language, girl. No slave of mine speaks like a hooligan.”

“Did you really just say ‘hooligan’?” I laughed then stopped when I saw he didn’t share my sense of humor. “Relax. Nobody can hear us yet.”

He grunted in displeasure then placed a giant sword, which he’d extracted from the bag, in the scabbard now tied at his waist. “Just remember what’s at stake. No’ only saving your people with the Clypeom, but you want to avoid punishment. Trust me on that, lass.” As if making a point, he yanked on the leather sword belt as he said it.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was punishment cutting off a finger or something? Off with her head?

I opened my mouth to question him but he was already walking toward camp. I rushed to catch up. When I reached his side, he pushed me slightly behind him. To protect me or because that was my place? It seemed like the two were entwined.

In camp, it was hard to follow the first rule. My curiosity outweighed my fear and I yearned to look around, study everything I saw. It was so different from home. Well, what I could tell from my peripheral vision. Despite my curious nature, I did keep my head down, as instructed.

It felt like we were walking straight through a Highland movie set. Only more…alive. Most men wore kilts, it looked like. Dogs barked and ran wild. Children chased them. The women, from the few I could see, didn’t wear old fashioned clothes like the men. Simple cotton dresses, some indecently short, seemed popular. It felt warmer here suddenly and I unbuttoned my coat.

As for Baen, he maneuvered through camp confidently. Other men either grunted in greeting or gave curt welcomes and hellos. Baen didn’t introduce me and I couldn’t tell if anyone even noticed me. I was used to being invisible so it suited me fine.

The camp was alive with noise. Even without seeing much except the ground, I could deduce what was going on by the sounds. Swords clashing. Women chatting. Something cooking on a grill. In the distance, I heard bagpipes and the sounds of men laughing.

When Baen had talked of slavery and concubines, I’d expected wailing and misery. But this place seemed…merry. As we weaved our way through the camp, it sunk in how enormous the place was. Like a small village.

And in the center, the brook turned into a steaming river. Smoke furled up from the water, creating wet, foggy air. What on earth? Between the heat coming off the water and the small fires dotting along the path, I was starting to sweat. I took off my coat for the first time since I’d left work. Still feeling hot, I pulled off my purple sweater too so I was left in a fitted black t-shirt and a pair of old jeans.

Baen glanced behind him. “Geothermal heating,” he yelled over the noise, pointing at the stream. “It’s from magma under the earth.”

“So is the water really hot?” I froze. Shit. I wasn’t supposed to speak. Panicked, I peered up at him.

Fuck! Was I not supposed to look at him too? Way to screw things up already!

He smiled warmly. “It’s okay.”

I exhaled in relief. No punishment.

“And yes, it’s the same temperature as your American hot tubs.”

I wished I had my bathing suit. Head down, biting my stupid tongue, I resumed my trek. I thought I heard Baen chuckle but I could’ve been wrong. I let my mind go blank as I continued walking robotically behind Baen, following his footsteps closely. It was almost a game, seeing how close I could make it into his soggy boot prints on the ground.

He stopped suddenly and I almost plowed into his back. “Here we are.”

I glanced up. We were on the outskirts of the busy part of camp now. Baen held open the flap to a tent identical to the others and motioned me in.

“Your castle, princess.”

“Princess?” I arched a brow then slid inside in front of him. For all the rough talk about rules and punishment, he was being kinda sweet. “Why do you live in tents?”

“T’rell insists on it. So we can pack up and leave at a moment’s notice if need be.”

“Who’s T’rell?”

“Our leader.”

The inside of the tent was bigger than it looked from the outside. The space was broken off into three parts. The furthest part looked like a sleeping area – a mattress topped with a beautiful gold and green quilt took up most of the space. On the other side, was a table low to the ground. A few wooden bowls and plates sat stacked on one side. So that was the eating area. The third area, just to the right of the door, contained two chairs, a few pillows, and empty space. I assumed this was for leisure or whatever else one required while living in a tent forever. There was no TV or anything. Maybe they played board games or…killed things or whatever burly Scottish men did.

The floor was covered in thick rugs – mostly greens and golds to match the bed. It was beautiful, in a homey rustic way. Almost medieval looking. Very Scottish. But there was a warmth and coziness there. The bed looked especially inviting. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d thought.

“Strip,” he ordered, from behind me.

I spun to face him then looked for signs he was joking. He met my gaze with the steadiness of a man who meant what he said. No crinkled corners.

“Great.” I sighed. “Just when I was starting to say nice things about you in my head you start with the orders.”

“If you’re lucky, I’ll give you even nicer things to say about me.” He winked.

Against my will, my cheeks heated. Why was his cockiness so sexy? I hated egomaniacs. They were selfish and immature. But Baen was…different. The way he checked me out wasn’t like some random asshole on the street, sizing me up like a piece of meat. When Baen did it, it made me feel desired. Not in a gross way – like I was fodder for someone’s spank bank – but like I was a prize to be won. That was the kind of love I sought. I wanted a man who wanted me, deeply.