Authors: Evangeline Anderson
Brides of the Kindred
Book 14: Enslaved
* * * * *
Anderson Books on Kindle
Brides of the
Book 14: Enslaved
2015 by Evangeline Anderson
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Author’s Note #1:
To be the first to hear about new releases,
join my new
. I promise no
spam—you will only get email from me when a new book is out for either preorder
or for sale.
Author’s Note #2:
I'm very excited to let you know that I am
in the process of turning all of the Brides of the Kindred series into audio
books. The first book,
and is read by the award winning Anne Johnstonbrown. Readers are already raving
over her ability to get all the voices just right and she has also agreed to narrate
, which I hope to have in
audio by the beginning of April, 2015. If you've never tried an audio book,
they are very easy to download and great to listen to during long car trips and
commutes, working out at the gym, or just while you're cleaning the
kitchen.(Which is when I listen.) I find listening to a book gives it a whole
different dimension and I think if you enjoyed reading the Kindred series,
you'll love listening as well. So give it a try!
Author’s Note #3:
Please no piracy. The Kindred pay my
mortgage now and without them, I’d have to go back to doing MRI full time.
Since writing hot sex and complicated emotions is way more fun than shoving
people into a magnetic hole all day, I would ask that you please buy your book
instead of trying to find a pirated copy and encourage your friends to do the
same so that I can keep writing and you can keep reading. Thanks!
and Happy Reading
to you all,
Anderson January, 2015
Also by Evangeline
Brides of the Kindred
books (in order)
(coming soon as an audio book)
Born to Darkness
Ruby Shadows (coming as soon as my Muse gets over her mental
block. Sorry guys!)
Stand Alone novels and novellas
, writing as Emmaline Andrews
(includes Claimed, Hunted, Sought and Found all in one
can also find many other books by Evangeline at her
Table of Contents
Thrace S’ver was in the dark place. The
black place. The place where no light could shine. Behind him he heard the
slaver shouting out his wares, offering his goods to the highest bidder.
Me. I’m the fucking goods,
Just like I was back when—
No. Don’t think about it. Don’t let it in.
The internal voice sounded like his
Sire—the male who had raised him from the ages of six to sixteen cycles. He had
been in turns strict and compassionate, loving and stern and he had tried to
in the honorable and forthright ways of the Havoc. He had been Thrace’s
whole world. Until…
Until he fucking died in a place like
He tried to clamp down on the thought and
the memory that came with it but it was hard…so fucking hard. Especially with
the shouts of the slaver ringing in his ears.
“Slaves for sale! Fresh from the Carnal
Houses—slaves trained to fulfill your every wish and desire—your every
The slavers had injected his voice box
with a paralytic which made it impossible to speak—nonetheless, Thrace
gave a silent grunt of derision. Unless whoever bought him desired to die and
had fantasies of being ripped apart limb-from-limb that particular claim was
going to prove false.
He took a deep breath and then another.
Calm. He had to remain calm.
No one looking at Thrace would have known about his
homicidal plans. After a grim and completely silent struggle with the armed
slavers who had beaten and stunned him into submission, he had retreated into
himself. Outwardly he was calm to the point of catatonia—his eyes closed behind
the blindfold and his breathing controlled—but inside his mind churned.
Never should have docked on Padge. Never
should have taken a drink at that sleazy portside bar. Shouldn’t even be in
this part of the galaxy!
None of it mattered. All that mattered now
as getting out of here—getting his freedom back. After that he could return to
get his ship, The Empress, out of dry dock and mount a hunt for his First Mate,
he could spend some time taking the bartender who had
spiked his drink and the slavers who had captured him apart piece by leisurely
But none of that would be possible until
he got free—and with the pain collar around his neck and the manacles that held
his arms behind his back, that was impossible here. Better by far to wait until
he was sold. And then…
Then I’ll kill the son-of-a-bitch who buys
me and get the Seven Hells out of here,
he thought grimly.
Just like I did before.
* * * * *
Captain Lonarra Trin stopped in front of the platform where a
huge male knelt, bound and blindfolded. His sheer size was what caught her eye
at first—he had to be six foot eight if he was an inch and his massive bare
chest and broad shoulders were ripped with muscle. He had jet black hair, just
long enough to run your fingers through, if that was what you were after, with
deep blue highlights that only showed if the light shone on it a certain way.
His muscular arms were bound behind his back and his eyes were covered with a
Kindred maybe. Or something akin to one. Really quite gorgeous,
thought in a detached way.
But not for me. I need something a little
smaller—not so ostentatious.
Still, she lingered beside the raised round
platform where the massive slave knelt, not quite ready to go on for some
She was looking for a body-slave but not for the usual reasons
of the rich and indolent Mistresses of Yonnie Six. Trin was from Zetta Prime—a
colony that had broken off from the main planet of Yonnie Six years ago. But
though they were some light years away, the daughters of Zetta Prime, as they called
themselves, still considered the Yonnie Empress their ruler and kept to their
Zetta Prime, like Yonnie Six, was a matrilineal society with
little to no use for male input. It was ruled and peopled exclusively by
females who passed on their wealth and privilege to their daughters.
But the daughters of Zetta Prime didn’t hold with the Yonnie
practice of keeping a pet male around—a personal body-slave who would act as an
errand boy, body guard, and means of sexual gratification. Not that the
Yonnites ever allowed a male to penetrate them in any kind of sexual act. A
true Yonnie Six mistress much preferred to do the penetrating herself with a
strap-on rod which was inserted into the unfortunate male for punishment or
pleasure, depending on how you looked at it.
The females of Zetta Prime didn’t practice male slavery or
penetration. They simply believed in keeping their distance from males
altogether and indeed, most Zettites were lesbians, preferring to love only
Trin wasn’t interested in her own sex and never had been. But
neither did she crave a male to scratch her itch. She had her own two hands and
a more than adequate clitoral stimulator if that need arose. Unfortunately, as
a merchant and a diplomat for the Zetta Prime ruling body, she had to deal with
the haughty Yonnie Six society often. And when she showed up to one of the
ruling body’s meetings without a body-slave to back her up, she was looked down
upon and often as not, completely ignored.
That was the reason she was trolling the rows of slave for sale
at the Flesh Bazaar located on
known as the Hub. It had come to her, after Lady Malroth had snubbed her by
refusing to even show up for a diplomatic trade agreement, that she could
a male and train him to do as she wished. Which was mainly to
look imposing and pretend to kowtow to her every wish whenever she was on
If he did a good job, she would teach him
some useful skills—astral navigation perhaps if he was intelligent enough to
learn it—and grant him his freedom after a year or two. She hated to condone the
practice of slavery but it wasn’t like she actually
any males she
could offer the job of pretend body-slave to. There simply weren’t any on Zetta
It had seemed like a sound plan, lying in
the sleeping chamber in her quarters aboard her ship,
But now, walking up and down the rows and seeing the
misery and shame on so many faces, Trin wasn’t so sure. She wanted a willing
slave—one who had been raised to it from childhood and had known no other life.
Which was one reason the slaver’s cry of “Slavers fresh from the Carnal Houses”
had gotten her attention. She’d thought that such a male would be more
tractable and easier to train for her purposes.
Well this one doesn’t
look a bit tractable,
she admitted to
herself, still staring at the huge, gorgeous male displayed like a dangerous
beast in a menagerie. Like a beast, he was bound and wearing a collar—a pain
collar, she saw with some distaste. Such devices connected to the pain centers
of the wearer’s brain and forced them to feel agonizing shocks if the remote
was pressed or a certain punishment word was spoken. Trin swore to herself
never to use such a thing on whatever male she bought. But just the fact that
the slaver had decided this particular male needed a collar to keep him in line
let her know he wasn’t the one for her.
She started to walk on when the slaver in
question sidled up to her. He was
Xethian with the scaly green reptilian
skin and a long, blunt snout rather than a nose. He wore ridiculously rich
clothing as was the custom of his kind, showing off his wealth as a sign of
success. To Trin it just looked like a sign of bad taste.
“I sssee you are admiring my wares, Mistress.” He bowed
respectfully, a long, oily fringe of seaweed-like hair flopping over his narrow
shoulders as he did.
“Ah…yes. Yes, I was.” Trin could barely hide her distaste. It
took all her diplomatic training to keep from backing up, away from the
unctuous, fawning slaver. “Kindred, is he?” she asked, to make conversation and
take her mind off the swampy stench that was coming from under his ridiculously
rich golden robes.
“Havoc, actually,” the slaver replied. “A distant genetic
cousin to the Kindred with a few sssignificant differences. The most important
being, Havocs do not form sssoul bonds with their females—which eliminates the
concern of permanent ownership. If you don’t like him, you can sssimply get rid
a selling point,” Trin admitted. The idea
of buying a male for use as a pretend body-slave and then winding up
permanently bonded to him hadn’t even occurred to her. If it had, she probably
would have run screaming in the other direction.
have the sssame ssstrength, ssstamina, and
courage as their genetic cousins,” the slaver continued. “With the added bonus
of longevity. As long as a Havoc remains unbonded and unattached to any female,
he will live hundreds of cycles in perfect health.”
“Wait.” Trin held up her hand. “I thought you said they
“No, I sssaid they
not bond. The reason being that
the moment they tie themselves to a female, they reduce their own lifespan to
that of hers. Most are not willing to give up hundreds of cycles of life simply
for the sssake of love.”
“Can’t say I blame them there,” Trin murmured. “Well, thank you
for the interesting facts but I don’t think this male is for me. I just need a
common body-slave to stand by me when I go on diplomatic missions. But I’m
looking for something a little less…dangerous.”
“Oh, but this male is not dangerous—not a bit,” the slaver
“Is that right?” Trin put a hand on her hip. Xethians weren’t
exactly known for being the most truthful species in the universe. “Then why
the blindfold and pain collar?”
“For show—most of my customers are from Yonnie Sssix. While I
perceive you are…not?”
“What gave it away?” Trin said dryly. “The clothes or the color
of my skin?”
“Both,” the slaver said. “Most females who come here from
Yonnie Sssix looking for a body-ssslave are dressed much more…richly. And I
have never seen one with brown skin before.”
“I’m from Zetta Prime—we have no use for overly fancy
clothing,” Trin said motioning down at her plain black flight suit. “And my
mother decided to use exotic sperm from a small, little known planet in the
Milky Way galaxy when she conceived me at the Conception center. She was never
sorry she did—nor am I.”
She had never been ashamed of her creamy light brown skin or
her long, black hair. It wasn’t the Zetta Prime norm but Trin was proud of her
exotic heritage and it showed in the way she spoke and carried herself.
“Of course, of course,” the slaver said quickly. “Which is why
this male would be the perfect body-slave for you.”
“How do you figure that?” Trin raised an eyebrow at him. She
couldn’t wait to hear
“Think of it, my lady—you are already most…
yourself. Different I should sssay. That in itself can be a problem when trying
to deal with the denizens of Yonnie Sssix.”
“True, but how would having such a huge, ostentatious
body-slave help me blend in?”
“Ahh, but you do not
to blend in.” The slaver
raised one scaly finger for emphasis. “If you are going to ssstand out anyway,
you should make a ssstatement. And nothing commands respect on Yonnie Sssix
like a huge, imposing male who is obviously broken to your will.”
“Hmm.” Though Trin hated to admit it, the slaver made sense.
How many times had she seen the Mistresses of Yonnie Six parading around the
assembly halls with the biggest, baddest, most dangerous-looking male they
could find trailing on a leash behind them? And the Havoc male on the platform
was huge and imposing enough to put any other body-slave to shame.