Moving Target (33 page)

The boy nodded again before whirling and bolting to where other boys and girls had stopped playing and were staring at Garran. Some waved and gave shy smiles and Garran acknowledged them with a slight incline of his head.

It was odd seeing Garran as more than a king and a warrior. A strange whirling gripped her insides and she had no idea why.

She let her gaze drift from Garran to the boys and girls. "They're beautiful."

"Children among Dark Elves are rare," he said softly, with what sounded like a touch of longing, and she moved her gaze toward him. "They are much treasured."

The distant look in his eyes surprised her for a moment before she realized he was probably thinking of his own daughter, Rhiannon, who had been raised among humans and kept far from him—in San Francisco. A part of her melted and it took a lot of effort to make herself return to the subject that still bothered her.

"You haven't explained this whole Master/slave thing," she said, and his attention cut to her.

"Our women are not slaves." His words had a hard edge to them and he had an even harder look in his eyes. "It is an exchange of power, protection, and pleasure, if you will."

Hannah frowned. "I'm not following you."

Garran folded his arms and leaned his hip against one of the larger boulders. "Our men are far stronger physically than our women. They rely on us for protection and to provide for them."

She crossed her own arms beneath her breasts and her frown turned into a scowl. "So the males make them walk around with hardly anything on, wearing collars, and calling them
Master
?"

"In turn," Garran continued as his gaze held hers, "the woman holds the power to give the man pleasure."

Her cheeks heated as her anger rose. "So this
is
all about sex."

He shook his head, his silvery-blue hair shimmering in the soft glow given off by the lichen above. "A Drow female who serves a Master has the power to please him in all aspects of his life. Family, home, and yes, sex."

Hannah huffed out her breath. "I don't get it."

Garran took her by the elbow again. They walked along a path and she tried to calm down about the whole woman-serving-a-man thing.
Barbaric
.

He came to a stop in front of another jeweler's display. He glanced at one of the gem-studded collars, then turned his gaze on her. "Wouldn't you enjoy belonging to someone, Hannah Wentworth?"

Belong to someone? Having a Master?
More heat flushed over her and her whole body tensed. "I want to talk to you,"

she said, nearly grinding her teeth as she spoke. "In private."

He winked and smiled, and she thought again about using her magic as a rope and collar.

As the heat in her body ramped up even more, she and Garran walked from the city through a honeycomb of passageways. They entered a dim hallway where arches opened in various directions, and he led her through one of the arches. The whole time they walked, Hannah's temper mounted.

They eventually reached the end of a short hall that led to a door on the right. The sound of rushing water met Hannah's ears as he drew her into a chamber.

A bedroom—likely his. In the far corner, water tumbled from a high rock, spilling into a pool the size of a sauna. Rich tapestries of Drow warriors in battle draped the walls. Rugs lay scattered on the floor in the same rich colors as the tapestries. On one wall hung swords, a quiver of arrows, and a bow, along with other weapons. All would be incredibly expensive in her world. The metals and gems glittered in the soft blue lighting shining from lichen on the ceiling over their heads.

A huge bed that looked as if it had been carved from an enormous round stone commanded the center of the room. "You sleep in a rock?" she muttered. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"Try it." Garran moved closer to her and she felt such power in his presence that it grasped hold of her like a tight embrace. "The bed is quite soft." He reached up and trailed the knuckles of one of his hands down her bare arm. "Almost as soft as your skin."

Immediately a jolt, like spellfire, shot through her body from the places he touched. Goose bumps pebbled her skin and she pushed his hand away as she backed up.

She let her anger replace her awareness of him as a man. Her voice lowered to a growl. "No wonder you were all sent to live underground. All of this woman serving a Master and who holds the power is crap. You're barbaric heathens."

Garran's eyes darkened, no amusement, no teasing left in his gaze. She almost took another step away from him as a chill traced her spine.

"It is not for you or any others to judge our lifestyle." His jaw tightened and the temperature in the room dropped as if winter had shrouded the last whispers of fall. "The Elders are judgmental, hypocritical bastards who had no right to do this to my people."

Hannah swallowed hard as she resisted rubbing her arms from the chill. The realization that he was right hit her like a snowball to her belly, icing her insides. She had always held to the strong belief that no one group had the right to judge what another race did, or to dictate what those people could or could not do, or banish the race because they were different.

As long as it was consensual, this Master thing was really none of her business or anyone else's. If it was true slavery, though, that was a whole different ball-game.