A Warlord's Lady by Nicola E. Sheridan Read Free Book Online

across his face.
    ‘Like your slave.’ She choked, memories both bad and good swamping her heavily.
    ‘I’ve never called you that. Slave is a label you gave yourself, in that… book ’ he replied, eyes unreadable, but just the slightest tightening around his mouth.
    Sabra shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not going with you.’
    She heard Cain sigh heavily. ‘Don’t do this, Sabra.’
    Her name flowed from his mouth like liquid gold and she stifled a shiver.
    ‘Do what?’ she asked, holding his gaze as steadily as her body would allow, ‘Make you force me?’
    The accusation hung like fart in the air between them — smelly, dirty and embarrassing.
    ***
    [Excerpt from Memoirs of a Warlord’s Love Slave , Chapter 2]
    After Mags was killed I think I went wild, but in truth, I don’t clearly remember what happened. It’s still an evil jumble of scary memories. I remember the Warlord’s disbelieving expression, the faces of his men, startled and outraged. I remember the hot biting of their fingers on my exposed body as I writhed, desperate to escape. Don’t mistake me, they didn’t interfere with me sexually, but angry male hands on my reluctant body is a memory I’m not likely to forget or forgive. I remember crying out ’Leave me alone!’ repeatedly, and glimpses of the Warlord. His face had grown closed and I couldn’t read his impenetrable eyes. ‘Don’t make me force you,’ he said softly, and then it was calm.
    I think I must have fainted then because the next thing I remember was laying on a large, ornately carved four-poster bed. Mosquito nets were draped romantically around it, giving the room outside a misty, magical feel. For a long while I just lay there, feeling a new shot of adrenaline squirt through me, and my heart hammered once again. Where was I?
    I was a captive, I knew that, but it was the most unlikely prison I’d ever seen. On closer inspection it was more like a lavishly-appointed resort hotel. The loud thrumming of insects rang from outside an open bay window and I rose unsteadily to get a better look. Glancing down, I saw I was still naked, though my body had changed colour to match the pale mauve linens of the bed. There were darker patches all over my body. These marks spoke of brutal hands. At this stage I didn’t know if I’d been raped, beaten or simply bruised in the process of my capture. I presumed the latter. Hesitating to ensure I was still camouflaging, I walked to the bay doors and stepped out onto a balcony. My first thought was ‘Wow’. The balcony was several floors high, and looked over a valley of dense jungle. Clouds rippled down the mountains and hills around me. I turned and looked at the building. Made of stone, and liberally dressed with vines and ferns, it camouflaged into the jungle as well as I could. Impossible to see from the air, or land, the building was massive and absolutely beautiful. I stepped closer to the balustrade of the balcony; it was cloaked in moss and ferns, a small ecosystem existing on rain and sunlight. I looked down a dizzying drop to the jungle floor where small paths were woven through the thick undergrowth, and monkeys swung on the upper branches of the canopy.
    A humid wind blew past me, cloaking my grimy skin in moisture.
    I wanted a shower. I knew I’d feel stronger once the dirt and filth from the streets of Vientiane were washed from my skin.
    I waited for a moment, to see if anyone was going to enter my room. Everything was quiet, except for the rattle of insects in the jungle.
    I turned and surveyed the room; it was lovely, made for the likes of a princess, or the concubine I would become.
    To my left was a stone alcove and there a golden shower and plunge bath were nestled gently in the corner. Tentatively, I walked towards it, expecting someone to burst in upon me at any moment, but no one did.
    Without waiting any longer, I turned on the golden taps, climbed into the shower well, and huge heavy droplets of