Tuesday, October 9, 2012

WICKED BELOVED by Susanne Saville

WICKED BELOVED by Susanne Saville

Though warned of the Tellurian slave’s uncooperative nature, Guild Assassin Dzer-Jin Vonn is intrigued when the alluring redhead promises to obey him and be the best slave ever. Her prior owner misused her but did not quench her spirit; her tongue cuts with amusing precision.

Abducted from Earth by aliens, ripped from life as she knows it, she gives her new master only the label “slave” to call her by. She’s landed in a culture where violence is foreplay. Yet her sexy master stands apart from his peers; he shows compassion.

When Dzer-Jin is challenged to slice her skin for public titillation, she agrees to the display with no bonds but trust. He earns status for her obedience but she frets he’ll tire of his “pet” if she doesn’t service his sexual appetites. The passion seething between them terrifies her. Is her desire to escape to Earth stronger than her need to serve Dzer-Jin’s lust—or her own?

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~Excerpt~

Dzer-Jin Vonn, predator-class assassin, still could not believe he had allowed himself to be dragged inside Kefu port’s chattel shelter. Slaves from across the universe could be found here, and for a fraction of their market value, because these were the pre-owned ones, the ones who had been given up for one reason or another, the ones nobody wanted at auction. Lagi had begged Dzer-Jin to come shopping with him, and for their friendship’s sake he’d complied. Now he regretted it.
Pleas followed their progress down the cage-lined aisles.
“I’m good. I am, I’m good.”
“I’ll make you feel so, so special, baby.”
He shut his ears to the imploring cries. If the poor things didn’t convince someone of their merit, they’d be euthanized when their allotted time expired. He was certain death was kinder when it came unannounced. His assignments never suffered this sort of agony. They never knew what hit them. He hated the shelter.
Lagi was interacting with an Oide girl now. Like all her species, she had fine bones. Easily broken. Musculature unfit for fighting. Not a threat. Decorative, though. Purple stripes zigged across her skin.
She was telling Lagi what a good servant she would be for his latest hetaira, for both of them when he returned from long flights. Not that she could really say otherwise.
Attention wandering, Dzer-Jin let his gaze drift down the row of cages. A couple of barred doors down sat a female who appeared surprisingly un-alien. No stripes, no extra limbs, no antennae. She could walk the streets of Kefu and be taken for a native.
Only the unique color of her hair might make someone look twice. Thick, heavy, fiery orange waves of it fell to her shoulders. He couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, but they appraised him coldly in much the same way he was assessing her, and he found that both unexpected and amusing.
At his grin, her eyes widened. She immediately looked away. Her gaze repeatedly darted up to his and fled back to the floor while her cheeks turned a mottled pink. Unlike the others, she had said nothing this entire time. He started toward her cage and she scuttled to its back wall at his approach.
Drawn up in a ball with her arms hugging her knees, she peeked at him from beneath her bangs. Large bones. Well nourished. Muscles evident but lacking tone. Unlikely threat. Which made her earlier arrogance all the more interesting. She still had spirit though unable to defend herself. Foolhardy. But interesting.
She shifted, seeming uncomfortable under his relentless gaze, and he recognized the small square box of a universal translator embedded in the collar encircling her throat. She wasn’t local to any of the nine systems then. He wondered how far she’d been brought.
He waited. Hunting had taught him patience. Still she refused to interact with him. Her wary eyes watched, waiting for him to make the first move.
“Hey,” he said softly and gave her a small—he hoped unaggressive—smile.
She blinked rapidly, several times in succession, and he had the distinct impression she was startled, or maybe bewildered, by his greeting. Perhaps her translator wasn’t operating correctly.
Lagi bounded over, colliding against him with the playfulness of a small child. “What have you found?” He leaned toward the front of the cage and the female pressed herself back against the wall in response. He made a disappointed, chiding sound and wrinkled his nose. “Oh, no, you don’t want that. With your appetites, you need something with more life in it.”
Dzer-Jin shook his head. His own hetaira I’eke provided enough of a coital outlet, and pets required the sort of commitment he could not promise. “I’m not shopping here, you are.”
Lagi pulled a mocking face. “Oh, that’s right, you’re an uncompromising Palatin. You never play with used or broken toys.”
“I’m neither used nor broken.”The girl had spoken. Her voice was pleasant, low and reserved. But her eyes were glaring daggers at Lagi. She certainly wasn’t broken. No slave was allowed to look at anyone like that.
Lagi turned and smirked at him.“Looks like she’s just your type then.” He patted Dzer-Jin on the back before returning to the cage of the female with the purple stripes.
The flame-haired girl watched him go then swung her attention back to Dzer-Jin. Her eyes trapped his in a direct, unwavering stare and, still on her knees, she crawled to the front of her cage.

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