Part 12 (2/2)

The males spoke in hushed voices to each other-virtually ignoring the females-bringing back memories of his life with the Death Valley Boys and the Slave Uprising. He shuddered as he remembered the day it had all started.

The terrorized screams of naked women being hauled out of their dwellings and forced onto the dusty ground. Laughing males, throwing themselves upon crying females, uncaring of their terror or pleas for mercy.

He'd never taken part in the rapes. He'd tried to stop some of them by yelling and fighting with the males, reminding them this was not the intention of their leader at the time-his friend Jarod.

They'd merely laughed at him.

Subsequently, he and Jarod had been recaptured by the female Cath. She had been one of the females who'd been gang raped...for days. She'd been changed by her experience. Upon her escape, she had turned bitter and evil. She'd begun sending out search parties to hunt down as many males as possible. He and Jarod had been caught, both of them tortured, forced to have s.e.x with Cath.

Jarod had lost his eye, a small payback from Cath. And Taylor's leg had been broken in several places when Cath had taken a long metal pole to his bound body. But the two of them-along with a friend, Blackie-managed to escape and had taken refuge with the Death Valley Boys.

Taylor came back to the present when a twig snapped lightly behind him. His hand went for the knife in his scabbard and he remembered he'd given it to Kayla. He hoped she was long gone as these males wouldn't think twice about raping her.

He sensed movement nearby and prepared to crouch lower into the ferns, but the kiss of a knife pressed against his throat.

s.h.i.+t. The curse came naturally, although he didn't like the word. He'd heard it repeated on several occasions, usually when a Hero brother had been angry.

”Not a sound, male. Move to the campfire,” a voice hissed in his ear.

Taylor recognized him. He was a brute who called himself King, but Taylor had never known the male's true name or from which hub he'd escaped.

Taylor swallowed against the unease clamping around him. He did not worry for his safety, but for Kayla's. If these males knew he was the one who escaped the breeders with Kayla, they would fan out and catch her.

He made a stab at diplomacy. ”I am unarmed.”

”And I am armed. Do as I say.”

So much for diplomacy.

Slowly he stepped through the ferns, treading carefully so as not to startle the party around the campfire. The instant he drew into the firelight, he braced himself as the two males immediately dove for their weapons. The females, on the other hand, did nothing. They both looked at him with blank stares, as if totally uncaring for their safety.

Many of the females ended up that way in captivity. Their loss of freedom and denial of any tenderness toward them by the males turned them into listless beings. Taylor tried hard not to care one way or another about the lost souls, but he could not stem the guilt, the raw pain or remorse for having been a part of the Slave Uprising-which had not gone according to Jarod's well-laid plan. A plan where no woman was supposed to have been injured in any way.

”Look what the G.o.ddess of Freedom has sent to us.” King chuckled as he shoved Taylor closer to the fire.

Recognition flared in one of the male's eyes. Samson, if Taylor remembered correctly. ”Taylor! Thought you were dead. And what of your friend, Jarod?” he asked.

He seemed genuinely pleased to see Taylor, but these males would easily kill if they chose, no matter how friendly they appeared. The fact he was inquiring after Jarod brought Taylor great relief. This meant his friend and the female had left and were most likely safe.

Most of the males who'd escaped during the Uprising held anger inside their hearts toward the females, but Taylor had been away from Death Valley and the rage for so long now, he'd almost forgotten how easily they did, in fact, hide their anger.

”We parted a long time ago,” he lied.

”Come and sit by the fire. We have females to tend to you.”

The one called King gave him another hard shove, making his weak leg almost collapse as he stumbled to the fire and sat where Samson patted the dusty ground beside him.

”Get this male some food and drink,” Sampson ordered the female closest to him.

Immediately she stood. She had been very young when the males had taken her in the Valley. A queen-in-training. A virgin. Her blue eyes looked haunted now. Her body thin, as if she hadn't eaten properly.

But these males didn't care. They ate until their bellies were full and left sc.r.a.ps for their females. Nausea rolled in his stomach as he noticed the thin lines woven through areas of the woman's body. Knife scars in intricate designs around her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her lower belly and thighs. She disappeared into the darkness without a word.

”Tend to this male's c.o.c.k while he waits for his meal,” King ordered the other female.

It was Death Valley tradition for a slave to give service. The females would tend to a guest anytime he pleased or anytime his host wished.

Taylor stiffened as the pet.i.te brunette scrambled over to sit beside him. She fared little better than the other female. Her short dark hair was tangled and matted. Her eyes gla.s.sed-over as she obediently reached for the strip of his breechclout.

He pushed her hands away.

The males grumbled angrily.

”I would prefer after the meal,” Taylor quipped, trying to keep his voice lighthearted. Truth was, he didn't want this female touching him-or any female except Kayla.

At the thought of her, frightened in the dark and unfamiliar surroundings, waiting for him to return, a jolt of unease gripped him. He hoped she did not come looking for him. Hoped she obeyed his instructions and began to follow the river. If she remembered how to get to it.

Stop it! She is a strong female and she will do what needs to be done to survive.

”Ah, here is the food,” the third male, whom Taylor didn't recall, muttered impatiently.

The female served all of them with an abundance of fruits, nuts and dried meat on wooden plates. Plates Taylor recognized as the ones Jarod had fas.h.i.+oned when they had first come to this place. It irritated him, having these nasty males using their dishes, but he maintained a cool outer calm. The Boys would soon ask him questions. Questions he preferred to avoid, but could not.

He ate quickly and quietly, hoping the female hadn't been instructed to put some sort of drug into his food. They could all be acting, knowing that Taylor was one of the escaped slaves. But he dare not refuse the food as per tradition. Denying food from the Boys was considered ruder than denying the female. The last thing he wanted to do was p.i.s.s them off. They looked tense enough already.

Three to one, not the best of odds. Then he had to consider the two females, who may have been trained to protect their captors.

They were halfway through the meal when the questions began.

”The Boys were very upset when you and Jarod decided to leave the way you did,” Samson said coolly.

”No one leaves the Boys,” the nameless one muttered angrily.

”You said that right, Dirk,” replied King, his gaze pinned to Taylor. Yes, this one was still very angry. Dangerous. It would be best if he escaped as quickly as possible, but he needed to give Kayla a bit of a head start. That is, if she'd decided to leave already.

”Once a Boy always a Boy. You knew that when we took you, Jarod and Blackie in after Cath and her women had their way with you.”

Taylor said nothing, opting to nod slowly in agreement and pretend he was enjoying the food too much to answer. But the Boys wouldn't let up.

”Jarod was in Death Valley many days ago,” King let the sentence hang and Taylor tried not to react as a cold chill ripped through him.

Were they telling the truth? Had Jarod gone to Death Valley? And what of the female Piper?

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