I’ve lived so much of my life in fear – and though the stakes have never been higher, the possessive way that Evander holds me against his body keeps me calm and reassured.
The poker dealer sits down at the head of the table and smiles politely as us. He’s a human male in his thirties, and he counts out chips in a practiced motion.
“International rules,” the dealer says coolly. “Each player has a minute for each decision and may communicate with his advisors. The format is a four-hundred, big-blind, deep-stack play – in the format of a cash game with no additional blinds. Players may negotiate additional funds.”
He might as well be speaking another language. I’ve never gambled before, and these terms he uses are meaningless to me.
I share a glance with Lisa, who is praying under her breath. She was just freed after that gamble at the fighting put – but she must already be imagining what will happen if the Bullfrogs win her back.
Toads are cruel enough as it is, if the rumors about them are true, but the Bullfrogs are on a whole different level of sadism and perversion.
I look across the table and make eye contact with Danielle. She’s silently crying, one wet tear rolling down her cheek.
She can’t hear my words – and for a moment I wish I shared the telepathy of the Aurelians.
You’re not going back with them, I try to wordlessly reassure her. I won’t let that happen.
If it comes down to it, I won’t even rely on the Aurelians. Without them, and without Danielle, I’d have nothing left to live for anyway.
If I had to, I’d try to find a weapon and free Danielle myself. Yes, it would be almost certain suicide to go up against those four lumbering Bullfrogs – but I’d made a promise to Danielle, and I won’t break it, no matter what. Even if we fail here today – even if it takes me more ten years to do so – I’ll set her free.
But for the time being, I need to trust in Evander’s plan.
Firstly, I need to know what’s going on in the game. Even pleasure slaves are allowed to speak – if they ask permission.
“Master,” I say, using a sultry voice that feels strangely natural to address Evander with. “Would you please tell me how this game works?”
Don Sloor narrows his eyes at me, slides his slimy hand over his chips. He leaves a green residue when he touches them, and I shudder at the sight of it.
Imagine those cold, slimy, warty hands leaving that residue across your bare skin.
The Bullfrog gurgles, and I realize he’s laughing. Those big, bulbous eyes look upwards, and Don Sloor gurgles: “It works like this: I get all the chips – then I get you.”
I shudder. Evander pulls me close.
“Don’t worry, my pet,” the gorgeous warrior reassures me. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you. We’ve agreed to a tournament – one with a large amount of chips compared to the blinds. That means that this will be a game of skill more than luck.”
That sounds reassuring…
…but what if the Bullfrog is more skilled?
The action starts. Cards are dealt, and chips fly into the middle of the table. The three subordinate Bullfrogs, who’d sat there silently up until this point, start talking to Don Sloor in their guttural, incomprehensible language.
Whatever they’re saying, it’s pretty heated. Spittle flies out from their mouths and their webbed hands splatter slime across the floor as they yell advice to their leader.
Behind us, in contrast, Augustus and Conan are still and silent.
Or, at least, silent to my ears. I realize that the rumors about the Aurelian species being able to communicate telepathically must be true; and the triad are doing so now.
After twenty minutes of play, the chips begin accumulating on Evander’s side of the table. Don Sloor is getting visibly furious by this turn of events.
He clutches the leash closer to him, and Danielle is pulled into his flabby bulk, struggling for breath.
My skin crawls with the urge to jump from Evander’s lap and rush to free her – but I know I’d have no chance.
But the sight of Don Sloor’s cruelty terrifies me. The laws of the city permit a slave owner to do anything they want to their property. Even if he accidentally suffocated her, Don Sloor would not be held liable.
Ironically, even animals and livestock on Reena have more legal protections than slaves do.
I watch in horror as Danielle face starts to turn purple. She clutches desperately at the collar, unable to speak.
I look up at Evander demurely, trying to hide the naked fear that I’m feeling in the pit of my belly.
I summon my sultry, pleasure slave voice.
“Master, you seem to be winning – but it looks as though your opponent may be damaging your future prize.”
Evander pauses. He was about to make a bet.
Instead, he looks up at Don Sloor, and growls:
“I’ll be taking ten-thousand credits in place of that one if you kill her. Five-thousand more, in addition to her, if she’s damaged to an unreasonable degree.”
Don Sloor yanks Danielle closer to him. She gasps, clawing at the collar as she’s lifted clean off her feet.
I watch in horror. That leash has become a noose – executing her slowly. I want to scream, and to jump forward and beat Don Sloor away from her with my bare fists. More than that, I ache for Evander to leap up angrily, and do something – anything – to help her…
…but he just sits there.
“She’s still my property. You haven’t won yet, Aurelian scum.”
Evander doesn’t flinch. He looks over at the dealer.
“Call the host. He needs to make a decision – I view this treatment as damaging my investment, and I want an official, binding resolution of the sum Don Sloor will pay me if the girl is damaged or killed.”
That works. With a snarl, Don Sloor reluctantly lets go of the collar, and Danielle drops to her
