Geared for Pleasure (3 page)

The brazen comment was followed by a wave of disdain and lust that crawled over Dare’s skin like snakes, telling her it was time to move on. She turned to find not one, but two squat, heavyset men, both of them looking at her with a cruel intent that matched the energy they were sending without restraint in her direction.

Dare held up a hand, not out of fear, but obligation. Wode protocol demanded she warn them. Even the lowest-born criminal deserved that much before punishment was meted out. “Step aside now, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

In answer, the men laughed and lunged for her.

Perhaps she would have been wiser to duck away from their grasping hands and run. It would be more in keeping with her disguise than her ultimatum had been. But she found herself growing angry instead, unable to keep up the pretense in the face of her outrage.

This was still Her Majesty’s land. Could a person not walk through it unaccosted? A mere boy? A woman alone? And where were the Wode charged with maintaining order in the square? They were meant to protect the innocent. To ensure safe commerce.

The first man tore her frayed jacket sleeve and half her shirt with one sharp tug. “Lookit ’er skin. So white and soft. Bet ’er tits and bits are just as fine. We should sample ’er before we sell ’er.”

Sell
her? To whom? A red fog colored the edges of her vision at his words, but she tamped it down. She may be outnumbered and outsized, but her formative days had been spent training with men
and
women far bigger and stronger. These lowborns made a mistake to underestimate her because of her small stature.

The sleeve of her jacket dangled, and she let it drop to the ground, revealing the pearl-handled dagger strapped to her right forearm.
Cyrus had shown her how to conceal a weapon for an instance such as this. An instance when fighting fairly would get her killed. One twist of her wrist and it was in her hand. Then her body tensed, prepared for battle.

The shorter man’s eyes narrowed. “Nettles, she has a knife. Watch yourself.”

He took a step back, though he was still blocking her avenue for escape. Surprised but unconcerned, Nettles licked his lips, and Dare sensed a twisted, more sinister thread running through his emotions.
He enjoyed the idea of hurting her
.

Dare glared scornfully, making it clear she doubted his abilities. He sneered at her expression as expected, and attacked. It was obvious in moments that this would not be a difficult fight. His big body was lumbering and slow. It was fair to say he was no match for her.

She ducked beneath his hands and struck his midsection with the hilt of her dagger, knocking the air from his lungs. Spinning low to the ground, she swept her leg out and snagged his booted ankles, felling him like a thick oak.

Before the dust could settle around him she was kneeling on his chest and slamming the heel of her hand into his nose. He howled with rage as it gushed blood, flinging up an arm to protect himself. Dare grabbed his wrist in a ruthless grip and bent his arm back on itself until it snapped with a satisfying crack.

The man bucked in agony, but before he could toss her off, she had her dagger behind her back, pressing it threateningly against the seam between his legs. She spared a glance for the man still standing. “He would
not
thank you if you took a step closer.”

She flinched at Nettles’ suffering when it reached her senses, but did not allow herself to be distracted by it. He deserved no pity. “I apologize for your pain, though I should unman you for your wicked thoughts.” She let every ounce of loathing she felt show in her voice and her eyes. “Instead, I will leave you for the authorities, safe in the
knowledge they will agree with the punishment I have dealt. A reminder not to touch what does not belong to you. If a shield guard learned you sought pleasure with an unwilling partner again, you may wish you’d turned away when you had the use of both arms.”

Dare felt a sharp prick sting her neck and covered it with her free hand. Turning in shock, she saw Lucy Thrice beside her, holding a tiny thorn-shaped needle between her dirty fingers.

“What have you done?”

The woman shook her mane of tangled brown hair. “You should have come to have a nip with me, child. Your head wouldn’t ache so much after if you’d had my tonic instead. And if your family had been smart, they’d have told you that the Wode in Trader’s Square can be bought for a sip of my more pleasurable mixtures… and that you ought not to walk around alone.”

When Dare swayed, the woman cooed, “It’ll be all right now, Lucy Thrice is here. You want to experience something new? A better life?” She tsked. “You came to the wrong place. If you think about it, I’m really doing you a favor.”

Dare’s cheek hit the dirt beside the groaning Nettles, and she felt her body twitch as she struggled to move. Her limbs were going numb, her mind scrambling in panic.

The other man turned her onto her back, wrenched the dagger from her hand, and knocked off her woolen hat with his boot.

“By the two moons!” Lucy crowed. “Special bird indeed. You’ll make twice the fortune for Lucy Thrice as she thought. Damn Wode,” she added, a look of true disgust crossing the unscarred side her of face. “Shields, they call themselves. Break most of the rules they imprison or kill us for breaking, don’t they? And yet one of those bastards must have had his way with someone outside his line to make such a small, strange-looking thing as you. No wonder you fight like you do. Come by it natural, eh?”

Then she smiled down into Dare’s eyes. “Now you
will
thank me.
Someday you surely will. Best life you could have if someone was to see what you were here, bastard and all, would be a vessel for their hate. Least this way you’ll get paid for it and have a decent chance of surviving after.”

The horrifying picture the woman painted was the last image Dare saw before the world went black.

She woke when a cool, damp cloth was brushed across her forehead and placed over her eyes. Was she home? Her body ached as it did whenever Cyrus decided to show her a new sparring maneuver, and she was on a bed with sheets so soft they
could
have come from the palace.

But Cyrus was gone, and she was nowhere near Queen’s Hill. Or her queen. Dare would have sensed her presence as she always had before.

Her head throbbed, still recovering from whatever had been at the end of that needle. Unless she missed her guess, Lucy Thrice had succeeded in “saving” her. A favor Dare would pay back in kind as soon as she could.

Someone stood beside the bed, her thoughts and feelings in no way as convoluted as Lucy Thrice’s had been. Though still soft. Another woman, if Dare had to guess. She opened her mind and sensed only open curiosity, guilelessness, and compassion from the stranger. A fellow prisoner? A sympathetic servant?

Dare frowned in confusion. She knew there was only one other in
the room, and yet she could hear voices. Male and female voices. Laughter. Soft moans.

When she tried to reach up to remove the cloth from her eyes, wondering why her mind was deceiving her, she realized that her wrists were bound.

Her head jerked and knocked the cloth loose, sending it sliding onto the pillow beside her in a wet heap. Dare looked up at her left wrist. Chains. An attempt to move her right arm proved just as fruitless.

She was chained to the bed. The cuffs were lined with velvet, but there was no mistaking the iron it covered. Why would anyone go to so much trouble to make handcuffs comfortable?

Dare shifted beneath the cool white sheet. Her legs were free, which was a blessing, but she noticed an added impediment to the escape she was already planning—her nudity. All she owned had been stripped from her, including her weapons. She should never have turned her back on that manipulative tonic seller. Or thought her kind on the basis of her unfortunate face.

“There now. I know it looks bad. I told the boss my own self that he might’ve gone too far, you being as little as you please, and passing out from weakness and all. I told him a girl who looks like you should be treated decent for once in your life. But when he sets his mind to something, not a one of us can change it.”

Dare turned her narrowed gaze on the woman beside her. Her accent indicated she was from one of the smaller farming communities. It was clear the long-limbed girl meant her words to be supportive. Kind. Her blonde hair was fashionably upswept with violet ribbons, and her body was barely covered in a thin dress of darker purple. She wore her corset on the outside of her gown, and it pressed her tiny breasts up so that Dare, or anyone else who was looking, could see more flesh than modesty should have allowed.

She smiled at Dare. “They call me Lavender. The boss told me to watch over you until you came to.”

“My name is Dare and I’m pleased to meet you, Lavender. Now that we’ve been formally introduced, would it be possible for you to release me?” She tried to keep her voice calm as she subtly tested the thickness of her bonds.

Lavender’s mouth formed a moue of apology but she shook her head. “The boss was firm on that. When he realizes you couldn’t be a threat to anyone, I know he’ll make sure you are welcomed more warmly. This isn’t how he behaves as a rule. He’s been tense since he returned from the mainland on his errand, and I’m guessing rescuing you and tossing out one of his own men for accepting money for an unwilling girl made his day that much worse.” She patted Dare’s hip soothingly as she spoke without taking a breath. “Never you worry, Dare. Those two men who trussed you up to bring you here would be wishing they had been assigned to the mines… if they were still alive to wish. And if they were Felidae, of course. Neither of which is a possibility, is it?”

The mainland? Rescued? She must still be under the influence of Lucy’s drug. Nothing made sense. Perhaps if the sounds around her could be muffled, she could think. “Lavender, if I may ask,
where
is that noise coming from?”

The moaning had gotten louder, the voices rising as if in pain, yet Dare saw no one but Lavender in the room. Felt no presence but Lavender’s.

“You’re not afraid at all, are you? Just curious. I like that. The noise…” Lavender’s smile grew mischievous and knowing. “Since most of the private rooms are being used, and he isn’t willing to put you in the women’s suite yet, the boss decided to place you in the Echo Chamber. He has a wicked sense of humor.”

Dare stared at her blankly. “The Echo Chamber?”

In answer, Lavender placed another pillow beneath her head, affording her a clearer view of the room. It was luxurious, as lavish as any palace suite. She could see the finely crafted vanity and wardrobe, an exquisite hand-knotted rug on the floor, and red brocade curtains draping the walls, no doubt keeping out the light to ensure she could not gain her bearings.

Lavender pointed with one hand as the other slowly caressed Dare’s hair in a tender, almost absent fashion. “Do you see the statue in the corner?”

Dare studied the sculpture with a combination of awe and horror. What at first appeared to be a plaster jumble became arms and legs, breasts and hands. Three men surrounded a voluptuous woman, all caressing her as she rose nude from large waves frozen in time. “I see it.”

“There is a different statue in every corner of this room. When I first brought a man in here, I was near surprised as you. I mean, they don’t move at all, but it still seemed like they were watching.” She shrugged. “They
are
definitely listening. I’m not certain how they work, I only know they do. We can hear every bedroom from this spot, no matter where it is. ’Cept the boss’s, of course. And ours. No profit or pleasure to be had from listening in on
our
day-to-day. Boss already knows all our secrets.”

“The noise is coming from other
bed
rooms?” Dare felt the heat as blood rushed to her face. Those were not screams of pain, then. What kind of place
was
this?

Lavender laughed, not unkindly. “Some men enjoy doing, some watching. Others, for whatever reason, prefer the listening. When the last is true, we bring them here.”

Dare’s voice sounded high-pitched, even to her. “We? How many women has this boss of yours
saved
? Are you all forced to share yourselves against your will? Forced to indulge in perversions with strange men?”

The young blonde sighed blissfully. “He would never force a woman to do anything she had no desire to do. Not our captain. A hero, through and through, he is. He doesn’t care what side of the Hill you were born to, every woma—”

Dare felt a pang of guilt as Lavender fell into a limp heap on the floor. She had used the momentum gained from freeing her wrist to knock Lavender between the neck and shoulder, rendering her unconscious. She would have a headache when she woke, but no more than that.

There could be no help for it. It had to be done if she was going to escape this place. Wherever she was.

Dare rubbed one aching wrist thoughtfully, grateful that the cuffs had not been difficult to overcome. The lining’s material had made them easier for her to slip her way out of.

She rolled off the bed and stepped gingerly toward the wardrobe, forcing her bruised body to move. She must have been tossed around like a bag of feed while she was unconscious. Or Thrice had let the men get a few hits in. Was that why she still felt so sluggish?

Dare shook her head. Clothing first, then answers.

Lavender called her boss a captain, but Dare refused to believe he was the one she was looking for. The one she was told to trust. The Deviant
would
be an apt name for a ship made to indulge the sort of debauchery that was obviously occurring here, but Dare hardly thought any loyal servant of the queen would ally themselves with criminals.

A sound of frustration escaped her lips. One garish sarong the color of a blinding sunrise. Long enough to wrap around her, nowhere near enough material for adequate covering. She would use the sheet but it was far too voluminous to allow for freedom of movement, and Lavender might awaken if she were to attempt to remove her dress. Not that she had the height or narrow frame required to wear it. The sarong would have to do.