The Captain’s Slave part 7

MALIK

Seven’s daring touch left my mind reeling all night. It sparked something in my chest that I’ve never felt before. It’s a terrifying beast.

I can still feel the warmth of her forehead against mine. She has carried on like nothing happened. Like she didn’t cross a line.

But I’ve realized something unique about her. She’s terrified of me, but still chases danger. She’s cautious but reckless at the same time. I’ve never met a female like her. And although she seems so simple, tragic, and defenseless, she has me by the balls, keeping me in anticipation.

What the fuck is it about her? How can she garner such power?

As I walk through the market, heads turn and whispers multiply. The people stare at me as if there’s no half-breed girl walking beside me. Seven is clearly part human, and yet they’re more taken by me, the fully Zolan man.

Maybe it has something to do with my scowl, or the jagged scars poking out of places that my tunic cannot hide. Like my hands and neck. Nasty scars I once foolishly thought I could cover with tattoos. It took me a long time to accept that war is something to embrace. I kill for a purpose; for the freedom of my people. There is no shame in defending the defenseless.

As I walk down the dirt path, passing merchants, I notice that I’ve been out of touch with society for a long time as I served the camp. The people look a lot different than they did when I was much younger.

There’s hunger practically growling in the air. Their eyes are sunk in, their bodies unwashed and so thin I feel like a giant amongst them.

Something isn’t right. How can a providence that’s protected by military camps be in such despair.? We ban their hunting to allow camps unlimited access to the forests, but we provide free and fresh meat to them. We even provide seeds for their farms to flourish.

What is happening to the people and why didn’t General War report such misery?

Seven walks closely beside me. Invisible to everyone but me.

“How long have the people been starving?” I ask her.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s hunger on these streets. Why is that?”

I glance at her, and she looks confused by the question. As if starvation is the norm amongst them.

“It has been this way for long as I can remember. Ever since people began disappearing, there’s been a food shortage.”

“Disappearing?”

“Yes. Kidnapped and sold to slavery.”

This makes no sense. The military camps are the ultimate power. They eliminated the uprisers of the last civil war. And now there are just rumors of a deranged man that proclaims to be a god. There is peace on Zolan. No one would dare to upset the camps by mobilizing slavery at a grand scale. We banned slavery a long time ago.

I stop before a food stand. Most of the vegetables look old and spoiled, and there’s no meat in sight.

“Is this all you have?” I ask the elder merchant, clearly displeased by the options.

The merchant sets down his flute and parchment, showing me his palms in a welcoming gesture.

“I have special selections for you, sire.”

His voice is shaky, and his eyes downcast. He’s terrified. But that’s nothing new.

The merchant pulls the cover from a crate and reveals colorful vegetables. “Take anything, free of charge.”

Free of charge?

I look at Seven, giving her silent permission to open her straw tote and stuff it full of vegetables.

She makes quick work of it, scanning the items with knowledgeable eyes. When her tote is full, I dig into my pocket and hand the merchant a generous payment.

Then I walk away before the man has a medical emergency. If his trembling knees are any indication, he’s praying to the gods to save him from my wrath and keep his piss in his bladder.

“Is that why there’s a shortage? They’re giving away goods as payment to avoid the slavers?”

“Yes, master Malik.”

This is fucked. The old man got one look at me and tried to bribe me for his freedom. He must have plenty of experience avoiding slavers.

I need to get to the bottom of this. I will send a report to my camp, but knowing how many other priorities General War has, he won’t be too worried about a few reports of slavery. Besides, the man wants to retire and dump the workload at someone else’s feet.

“Where is the flesh market?” I ask Seven, taking the bag from her and carrying it in a tight fist.

“T—thank you.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest as if not knowing what to do with them.

“There is no exact location for the flesh market. It’s all done in the dark. Some people simply go missing.”

I need to know how she ended up trapped as a slave. But I can already tell it won’t be an easy conversation to navigate. I will be resurfacing trauma, and the girl has already experienced plenty as she watched me murder her previous slaver.

“Seven?” A girl calls. Frail just like the rest of the townspeople, with scratches and tan lines at her wrists and neck—evidence of chains.

Seven keeps her head low, not acknowledging the other slave girl. I’m irritated to realize that she’s waiting for my permission to interact.

“Speak,” I tell Seven, my tone harsher than intended. I don’t want her to think I’m angry, but I cannot condone this meek attitude.

When will she understand that she’s not my plaything? Not my slave. I killed for her. We’re much more than master and slave now.

“Hi, Kitto,” she smiles weakly. “This is the new master of my house.”

Kitto bites her lip and stares at me with wide, teary eyes. Terrified.

I’m really starting to get sick of the unwarranted fear. I haven’t even broken anyone’s neck yet.

“Sorry for interrupting you. I was just surprised to see you,” Kitto says.

Surprised to see her with a new master, perhaps.

“Please excuse me.” Kitto takes a step backward, onto the incoming traffic of bustling carts.

I reach out and snatch the girl away from danger, her hands flattening on my chest for balance.

“Kitto!” An enraged male voice snarls.

He’s two heads shorter than me, wearing a white robe and gold collar like a sick mockery of the rusted collars slaves wear.

He reaches for Kitto, and I slap his hand away like he’s a naughty child. I’ll give him credit for not trembling in his boots like everyone else around me. But I’ve learned long ago that rage tends to triumph over sanity.

He scans me from head to toe, clutching his wrist. “Thank you for protecting my property, sir. Please return it to me.”

I glance at Kitto. Short black hair, dry lips and doe eyes so similar to Seven.

I sigh. Why do I have a thing for women in distress?

“How much to buy her?”

Both Seven and Kitto gasp.

“She’s not for sale.” He glances at Seven. “And you’ve ought to know that there’s another slaver feening for the flesh of this exotic whore. You should not be parading her before we snatch you just like you snatched mine.”

Well, I tried to bargain.

I set the bag of groceries down, and then straighten. My fist goes flying, ramming into the man’s gut and propelling him twenty feet backward into a hardware store. Shovels and hoes surround him, and he remains sprawled in the ground, probably dead.

At least whoever is in charge of burying him won’t have to search far for the shovels.

“Let’s go,” I tell the women.

“I…” Kitto stammers.

“Come. I just purchased you.”

The payment of course being a punch to the gut. The ugly bastard asked for it. I’ve got a strange affinity to Seven, and he threatened taking her from me.

I don’t know if it’s her mysteriousness that I’m so attracted to, and I’m not fucking interested in exploring the mess in my head, but I’ll be damned before the confusing and frustrating female is removed from my sight.

I glance at Seven, expecting to find fear. Maybe even some gratitude for saving her friend. But she’s not even looking at me. Her eyes are on Kitto. Expressing words I cannot read.

I hope she doesn’t get too hopeful. I have no interest in taking in another girl. After feeding and clothing Kitto, I will send her off. I’ll ensure she has room and board elsewhere as a free woman, but she cannot stay at my home permanently.

I’ve already got my hands full with Seven. There’s barely enough space for the two of us with all the tension between us.

Tension that’s very much sexually charged. I was practically salivating as I bathed her. The poor girl was surrounded by her old master’s blood, suffering as I lustfully stared at her soft glistening skin.

My cock twitches in my pants. I scowl and tug at my hunting belt.

What is wrong with my rotten soul? I murdered two men and got obsessed with a vulnerable girl in a matter of days. I never had such drama in the camp.

“Let’s go,” I huff, picking up the groceries.

“Y—yes, master,” Kitto says and follows my quick pace.

“Seven!” I call for her.

“Yes?”

“Talk to me about your plans for these ingredients. I want to hear every recipe to ensure nothing is wasted. The food cost me plenty.”

I don’t give a fuck about vegetables. I just want to hear her voice.

Joan was the closest I had to a female friend and I occasionally got tired of listening to her. But that’s not the case with Seven.

I want to know everything about her. She’s a closed book, and although I could easily demand she answer me, I don’t want to treat her like her previous master did. I don’t want fear from her. I want more. Not just pussy and those soft tits. I want to get under her foreign skin and find something I’ve never had before, although I’m not sure what.

“Crazy bastard,” I mutter under my breath, taking my dagger and slamming the metal hilt against my temple.

“I’m sorry. I won’t cook—“

“Not you,” I snarl at Seven.

“Master, I—I can also cook,” offers Kitto. “If you would like…”

“No,” I say with certainty and point at Seven with my dagger. “Start from the beginning. You said something about the bonbons. Yes, tell me more.”

READ PART 8>

A/N: do you think Seven will get jealous of the new girl?