The Whore (2 page)

Ayla scowled. “You know that’s not funny. My brother is a perfect example. He became a pirate, and now I never see him.”

“That’s because we can’t see anyone. We’re stuck behind these brothel walls.” Bryn tied off the boot and started on the other one. Each second that ticked by the urge to flee grew, causing her heart to beat with anxiety. She
needed
to go. “I’ve done this a million times. Don’t worry so.” She stood, crossed the room and gave her Sister a kiss on the forehead.

Ayla took her hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of her wrist, followed by a gentle lick from her warm tongue. As usual, Bryn’s sex swelled. She closed her eyes as Ayla moved Bryn’s hand to cup her breast. Bryn could feel Ayla’s hard nipple through the soft fabric of her sleeping gown, and she took the beaded flesh in her fingers.

Ayla sighed. “Please. Stay.”

For a moment she considered it. Ayla knew Bryn’s body, knew her desires, more so than the other Roses. So many men... The only way Bryn enjoyed sex was to lay with her fellow prostitutes.

Sex was a job, a requirement. She didn’t enjoy being forced to have sex with anyone who could afford it, but it hadn’t ruined her own sexual appetite. Bryn refused to let her destiny ruin her body’s desires.

Right now she desired Ayla. As her chamber-mate continued to rub her nipple with her fingers, Bryn’s pussy dampened, started to throb.

Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss on Ayla’s lips. “I’ll be back,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Ayla leaned back onto the bed and lifted the fabric of her sleeping dress, pulling it to her waist. She opened her legs to reveal her smooth, glistening pussy. Reaching down, she dipped her index finger into the pink folds. “I’ll be waiting.”

It was difficult to pull herself away, but she did. Had to. Sex wasn’t exactly difficult to come by—she lived in a brothel. Sex would be there when she returned. The desire to escape the walls of her fortress had been escalating with each passing second, leaving her with little choice but to fulfill that particular desire. Her escapes were the only thing that kept her from going mad.

She used the tunnels to reach the surface. Behind the walls of the brothel was a labyrinth of small passages. Hollow, narrow corridors that led to hundreds of exits. It was time for the servants’ evening meal, so Bryn expected barely any encounters as she made her way to the street.

Still, her heart raced. Although she tried to appear calm around Ayla, Bryn was well aware of how dangerous her actions were. If the Madam caught her sneaking outside the walls, she would be punished. Of course, a Rose couldn’t have any visible marks of punishment. However, they had other methods. There were rooms located underground where Roses were punished for misdeeds. Like the sensory deprivation room. A woman was stripped nude, her wrists and ankles bound, and she was locked in a room of total darkness for forty-eight hours. All a person could hear in that room was the sound of her own breathing. Each time Bryn had seen a girl come out of such a punishment she’d had such an expression of insanity on her face—it made Bryn’s blood run cold to think of it.

The punishment for leaving the brothel walls would be much worse than two days in the deprivation chamber. A year of penalty. Naked and chained. Spread-eagle on a table in the entry of the brothel. Each day, from sunrise to sunset. The small amount of freedom she knew would be taken away from her. She’d be nothing more than a receptacle. Anyone could touch her. Any servant could climb onto the table, kneel between her legs and fuck her. A group of men could surround her, stroke their cocks and shoot their come on to her naked flesh, where it would stay until she was released at night. Once the word spread that a Rose had fallen, there would be a line of men waiting their turn for a free fuck. She would have men sticking their cocks in her mouth and pussy and ass all day long—often simultaneously. No man would be turned away.

They said it was to ensure a Rose understood the dangers of being a woman alone in the Wasteland. Bryn thought it was a cruel joke. There was nothing in the barren lands that could be worse than what she found each day inside her prison walls.

Chapter Two

So, yeah. She had a lot to lose. Yet, here she was. Peeking through a tunnel door, her hands shook as she watched a group of men walking down the hallway in her direction, their voices and the sounds of their boot steps echoing through the corridor. When they had passed she quietly emerged, staying close enough so she seemed to be a part of their group as they strolled past the guards and into the street.

No one gave them a second look. It truly amazed her how much freedom a cock gave a person.

Dodging through the crowd, she went for a few blocks before dipping into an alley. She leaned her back against the side of a building. Her heart raced, beating so hard in her chest she could nearly feel it hammering against her breastbone. Taking deep breaths, she counted to twenty, then thirty. But she had to go up to fifty before her pulse began to slow. And then, her body lost some of its anxiety.

The energy of the city started to bleed into her, making her feel as if she’d taken a drag of a hemp arre’te. Tension drained from her body. The traders, the fishermen, the citizens—all exuded an unforeseen force that seeped into her, thrilling her. Freedom. For a few hours she had what they did. And it was exhilarating.

Pushing herself off the wall, she meandered toward the docks. She took her time. She paused to peruse a tray of sea stones a man had strapped to his chest. In awe, she watched a man wearing what could only be a coat made of leather, and straddling something even more rare—a horse—ride down the street. This was only the second time she’d seen such a creature in person, and the beautiful animal was so rare and expensive, four armed guards surrounded the rider and beast.

If she were free, maybe she could have worked hard enough to obtain something as magnificent as a horse.

If she were free.

You are, if only for a few hours.

With a sigh, she continued on her way. Closer to the water, the air became heavy and damp. Salty. She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Oh, how she longed to ride the sea. The sea was endless. No roads, no houses carved into the earth. She imagined herself on a boat, drifting day to day. Coming ashore only when a piece of land looked attractive.

A young man stopped directly in front of her. Two other boys flanked him. They looked dirty and poor and desperate. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

The one in the middle had shiny, sandy hair and a mean glint in his eye. He pointed to the jewel screwed to her earlobe. “Nice earbob.”

A shiver of fear trickled up her spine, and she put her head down to step around them. But they intercepted her, moving to stand directly in her path.

“Where you off to in such a hurry?”

She met his gaze. One thing she’d learned was to show no fear. “To the docks. Now let me pass.”

But his stare had gone once again to her ear, and she mentally kicked herself for being stupid. She should have worn a scarf, as she normally did. She reached inside her blazer to palm the dagger strapped to her side. She didn’t think she could take the three of them. However, winning a fight wasn’t her biggest concern. Any scene-making altercation, on the other hand, could be a problem. A big problem.

She fisted the knife’s handle. “I don’t want any trouble.”

The sandy-haired boy reached out once again. “Then just give us your jewel, and you won’t have any.”

Fuck. She’d happily hand it over, but then her tattoo would be exposed. Again, she cursed her stupidity. Now, she had no choice but to fight. She drew the dagger out of her jacket and tried to look confident. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The boys came at her, surrounding her. Her eyes darted between the three figures as she took a fighting stance. She’d watched the Sun Guards exercise, and had practiced their defenses. But that had been alone. Pretend. This was real.

She would lose.

Naked, chained to a table, a living fuck-toy.

No. You can not lose.

Backing up, she tried to lure them into an alley. The last thing she needed was to draw an audience. With her free hand, she beckoned them to her.

The leader came first. He swung a fist toward her head, but Bryn jerked backward, causing him to miss. She seized the opportunity. Gripping her knife, she stabbed him in the shoulder. He howled.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

Then the two others came at her. Fuck, she couldn’t take all three.

But she could try.

They swarmed. She backed up. One of the boys pulled his arm back and was about to swing at her. She thought she could duck again—

He was on the ground. She barely knew what happened. It couldn’t have been more than five seconds before she realized her attackers were the ones under siege. Two men were making quick work of the boys. Breathing heavily, she watched as a man with white-blond hair in a long braid down his back punched the sandy-haired man in the jaw. Three punches and the boy was on the ground, unconscious.

The blond man appeared utterly unfazed as he quickly drew up a leg and spun around to plant the bottom of his leather boot in the second boy’s chest. Apparently the boy had gotten back to his feet. That ended quickly as the boy flew backward, landing with a thud on the other side of the alley.

Her gaze landed on the blond man’s companion. Tall and lean, he had brown hair and a handsome face. Like the blond man, he wore a brown tunic, tan breeches and leather boots. Each man had telltale shells woven into their hair. Pirates.

Pirates.
They embodied everything she craved. Freedom. The sea. Power.

The brown-haired man held two daggers. Casually spinning the knives in his hands, he smiled at the third boy, who now had his back to the wall. Still focused on the boy, the man jerked a nod at Bryn. “You giving this chap a hard time?”

The fucker’s eyes were wide, scared. “No—I just wanted his—”

Bryn barely saw the knife fly out of the man’s hand. She heard a whiz, and then the dagger was stuck in the side of the building, barely an inch from the boy’s head.

His voice was high and full of fright. “Please...I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

The boy who’d wanted her jewel needed no further invitation. Seizing the moment, he fled, his footsteps falling hard and fast as he exited the alley.

Then, silence. The other two boys were unconscious lumps on the ground, leaving Bryn alone in the alley. With the two men. Facing them, she clutched her dagger to her chest. However, these were men—these were pirates. Fighters. She knew she wouldn’t have a chance.

“Don’t worry, boy,” the blond man said. “We won’t hurt you.” In the dim light, she could see his wide blue eyes and thick black lashes. His face looked as chiseled as the exterior of the brothel walls, and a jolt of awareness shot through her.

Shaking it away, she looked to his friend. That was a mistake. A second jolt of awareness struck her, this time like lightning. In the moonlight, his shaggy brown hair flashed with sun-kissed tones. He possessed a tall, sturdy build and had an easy manner about him. But based on the way he’d overtaken the men who’d attacked her, she had a feeling his demeanor was deceiving.

He plucked the knife out of the side of the alley wall. “Fucking punks. I suppose they wanted your earbob.”

Her fist clenched around the hilt of her knife. Eventually, she nodded.

“No worries, chap,” the blond man said. His gaze raked over her and even though it was dark, she saw a glimmer in his eyes. “We won’t hurt you.”

She believed him. For some reason she believed him. But what did they want?

“Be safe,” the brown-haired man said. Then, with one last glance he draped his arm over the shoulders of his companion, and they walked away.

Clutching her knife, she stared after them. If Bryn knew about one thing, it was sex. And, as she watched how they interacted—their constant physical contact, the way the blond man brushed a lock of hair out of his friend’s face—she was quite certain they were more than friends. They were lovers.

That hot awareness from earlier? Yeah, it had just landed in her gut. Of course, all men lay together. She’d never been picked to participate in a ménage. However, on several occasions Bryn had spied on Roses who had participated in such scenarios. She’d found the scenes shockingly erotic, and had gone as far as to spy through a balcony window while she touched herself.

A hot flush crept up her neck at the memory. It was the one thing she’d actually wanted to do with a man. It was the one thing she’d seen men do that aroused her. She’d seen a Rose sandwiched between two men, both her holes filled at once. There’d been a tenderness in that encounter Bryn had never experienced. The ménages were always talked about with reverence, as the most desirable Jahns. They treated a Rose with respect and always gave her pleasure.

Watching the men kiss had been the most exciting thing. She wasn’t sure why. Especially when they kissed each other while fucking the Rose…

It was a fantasy she’d held close to her heart, one she often played out in her mind while she touched herself…

The pirates were nearly out of her vision before she took off. She scrambled through the fishermen and traders, making her way across the dirty, twisting street until she was a few steps behind the pirates. Until she could overhear their words.

The blond man had long legs and an elegant gait. He said, “Half the crew has disappeared, Captain.”

The man next to him—the Captain—was his opposite. His gait was more of a swagger. From behind, he seemed even taller than she’d originally thought. Her gaze roamed over his brown trousers, which hugged what even someone as jaded as Bryn would have to admit was a fabulous ass. Worn, knee-high boots hit the ground with sturdy steps.

She stepped up her own speed, listening to their conversation. She wasn’t sure what drew her to them, but she was free, for the moment. So she didn’t deny herself. And she wanted to know why half their crew had disappeared.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Good thing she wasn’t a cat.

The skinny man said, “Word reached the ship about the Payer, and five crew members were gone within the span of fifteen minutes.”

“Fucking traitors.”

“Mainly the new boys we picked up in G’huana. Probably would have jumped the second we reached Kroy Wren anyway.”

The Captain ran his hand over his brown hair, which resulted in a bunch of chucks sticking up chaotically. “True. Still, I want to get the hell out of here tonight. Crew or no crew.”

They dodged a group of traders carrying coils of hemp rope. “It’s most likely going to be a skeleton crew, sir. Of course, we still have our core group. And a few citizens have inquired about passage.”

“I suppose the deck swab is gone.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

The Captain shook his head. “Damn. I hate a dirty ship.”

“I’m aware of that, Captain.”

“Fucker.”

“I can clean.”

As the men stopped and turned to face her, Bryn slapped a hand over her mouth. What the hell had she just said? Not only was the idea of working on a ship insane, but she’d never held a broom.

The Captain nailed her with his gaze, and her heart stopped. Brown eyes. Direct and intense and sparkling with intelligence.

She took a step back. “Or not…”

The skinny man gave her a slow once-over. Normally, such an obvious assessment would have disgusted her, but, oddly, it didn’t. As his gaze roamed her body, a shiver of something went through her. Something she couldn’t quite identify. Unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

Strange, that.

“You looking for a job?” the thin man said.

She nodded her head. “Yes.”

Their expressions were amused. The Captain stepped forward, and her heart skipped as he dipped his head to look her in the eye.

What were these men doing to her? Had she actually inhaled something intoxicating and was now suffering a contact high? That one trader’s incense had smelled a bit funny...

The Captain put a hand on his hip. She noticed that hand was marked. A burn mark. And it appeared fresh.

Okaaay. That didn’t look too good.

He said, “Yes or no, boy? We don’t have all night.”

Her hands clenched at her sides as her palms went damp. Her pulse hammered and her head spun. Was this really happening? Were they offering her a chance for escape?

She’d never cleaned a floor in her life.

She was posing as a man.

The ship was probably full of nefarious characters and big danger.

No one was more surprised than she was to hear herself say, “Yes. I am in need of a job, and I can clean. If you think you can take me on. On the ship, I mean.”

The Captain’s all-assessing gaze was much quicker than his friend’s but it sent a shiver up her spine.

He gave her a quirked grin. “Oh, I think I can take you, boy. Now let’s go.”

What the hell was she doing?

As she walked up the pier and the gangplank to the ship, the men flanked her. Her blood rushed with nerves as doubt threatened to overwhelm her. Was she really doing this? Was she really going to just walk away from her life and pose as a man on a pirate ship?

She was. But there was something she needed to do before they set sail.

Set sail.

Never, not in a million years, did Bryn consider ever saying those words.

Her stomach lurched as they stepped aboard. Despite her nerves, a flash of excitement shot through her. She was, for the first time in her twenty-five years of life, standing on the water. The air seemed to leave salt on her skin, and she licked her lips. She glanced to the men beside her, and a shiver of responsiveness heightened her already-edgy nerves. She had spent much time with men, but it was never her choice. To be doing so now seemed odd...and oddly exciting. Something about the Captain and his friend was different than anyone she’d known thus far. She felt strangely safe with them, and she was well aware that fear should force her to run back home.

Except she’d never considered the Rose home. It had been a prison, a place where she was forced to spread her legs and open her mouth and service men. It wasn’t a choice. Now, she was making a choice. It could very well turn out to be the most disastrous choice of her life, but at least she was able to make it for herself. For once.