Read Online Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) by Rachael Slate - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rachael Slate
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them, she would need to be cleansed and prepared for her enslavement.
A sudden chill jolted her, causing the steamy water to swirl tepid against her skin. Was it to be tonight? The slaver had told her they wouldn’t reach his buyer’s port for weeks.
She would have told her slave the same lie.
No. Not yet, please don’t let it be time yet. This eve was too far from the full Moon and she hadn’t been allowed outside at night to take advantage of any Moonlight. She was drained. If they chained her, she’d be helpless. She’d be raped. Afterward, she’d never have her powers back, ever.
I’ll kill him if he tries to sell me. I have to.
The servants finished their inspection. Other than being cleansed, she hadn’t required much preparation. Female descendants only possessed hair on their heads. Males, like the slaver… She flushed at the memory of bathing him, and then groaned, shaking her head in her hands. “What is wrong with me?” She slid under the water in an attempt to block out everything but her mission.
She couldn’t afford any distractions.
Tonight, I will fight for my freedom.
***
“You wish to live in a brothel, Amazone ? I can arrange it,” Arsenius pounded on the door Kyme had locked from the inside.
“I will leave once someone has brought me a proper dress. I’ll not wear this in public.”
He frowned. The gown he’d chosen was a delicate green silk with long sleeves and a tapered waist adherent to the current fashion. Modest cleavage and the hem flowed well to the ground—unlike the Amazon’s tunic. She’d never seemed concerned with the propriety of her attire before.
“Your dress is fine. Let me in or I’ll break the door down.” He lowered his voice so the threat would permeate the air. After a few seconds of banging and knocking about on the other side, a click signified the lock unbolting.
He shoved open the door and swallowed hard as he caught sight of Kyme from across the room. The fabric draped perfectly about her curves and her chestnut hair curled around her shoulders, catching in the light. He raised his admiration from the delightful sway of her hips and scowled. Where he’d expected, and anticipated, a view of the perfect cream of her breasts, his appreciation met a haughty sash.
Why? He’d perused the entirety of her nude body, and gods knew her tunic wasn’t modest, so, why? Rather than argue, he strode forward. Before she anticipated his intention, he tore the sash from her chest.
Oh. Why hadn’t he considered this? Though she made a clumsy attempt to cover herself, he’d already seen too much. Her mark—the brand above her right breast—indicated she was an Amazon.
Her gaze slid to the floor as her chest rose and fell rapidly. A second later, she met his stare and in her indigo eyes was the ferocity and pride he’d grown accustomed to. That moment of vulnerability was gone. A sadness coated in regret tugged at his chest.
“I did not shame myself.”
Shame herself? No, of course his Kyme wouldn’t have. The coin-sized burn was deep. Whoever had given it to her must have held the hot iron to her skin good and hard. From the rumors he’d heard, initiates who made any sound, even a whimper, were refused entry into the sisterhood of the Amazons. The fallacy about them cutting off their right breast was a myth the humans had made up long ago. Even so, having a hot iron seared into one’s flesh must be equally painful.
He clenched his jaw as he examined the crescent Moon above Kyme’s right breast. To believe in an idea so strongly, to be so devoted one would brand one’s own skin… What would that be like?
“Nay, I can tell. Why then would you wish to hide it?” He crossed his arms and studied her.
Kyme shrugged. “I am not this dress.” She bit her lip. “This gown is not a reflection of who I am. Women of my race don’t wear such frivolous things. We despise them. This gown, it is too lovely for someone like me. I cannot wear
A sudden chill jolted her, causing the steamy water to swirl tepid against her skin. Was it to be tonight? The slaver had told her they wouldn’t reach his buyer’s port for weeks.
She would have told her slave the same lie.
No. Not yet, please don’t let it be time yet. This eve was too far from the full Moon and she hadn’t been allowed outside at night to take advantage of any Moonlight. She was drained. If they chained her, she’d be helpless. She’d be raped. Afterward, she’d never have her powers back, ever.
I’ll kill him if he tries to sell me. I have to.
The servants finished their inspection. Other than being cleansed, she hadn’t required much preparation. Female descendants only possessed hair on their heads. Males, like the slaver… She flushed at the memory of bathing him, and then groaned, shaking her head in her hands. “What is wrong with me?” She slid under the water in an attempt to block out everything but her mission.
She couldn’t afford any distractions.
Tonight, I will fight for my freedom.
***
“You wish to live in a brothel, Amazone ? I can arrange it,” Arsenius pounded on the door Kyme had locked from the inside.
“I will leave once someone has brought me a proper dress. I’ll not wear this in public.”
He frowned. The gown he’d chosen was a delicate green silk with long sleeves and a tapered waist adherent to the current fashion. Modest cleavage and the hem flowed well to the ground—unlike the Amazon’s tunic. She’d never seemed concerned with the propriety of her attire before.
“Your dress is fine. Let me in or I’ll break the door down.” He lowered his voice so the threat would permeate the air. After a few seconds of banging and knocking about on the other side, a click signified the lock unbolting.
He shoved open the door and swallowed hard as he caught sight of Kyme from across the room. The fabric draped perfectly about her curves and her chestnut hair curled around her shoulders, catching in the light. He raised his admiration from the delightful sway of her hips and scowled. Where he’d expected, and anticipated, a view of the perfect cream of her breasts, his appreciation met a haughty sash.
Why? He’d perused the entirety of her nude body, and gods knew her tunic wasn’t modest, so, why? Rather than argue, he strode forward. Before she anticipated his intention, he tore the sash from her chest.
Oh. Why hadn’t he considered this? Though she made a clumsy attempt to cover herself, he’d already seen too much. Her mark—the brand above her right breast—indicated she was an Amazon.
Her gaze slid to the floor as her chest rose and fell rapidly. A second later, she met his stare and in her indigo eyes was the ferocity and pride he’d grown accustomed to. That moment of vulnerability was gone. A sadness coated in regret tugged at his chest.
“I did not shame myself.”
Shame herself? No, of course his Kyme wouldn’t have. The coin-sized burn was deep. Whoever had given it to her must have held the hot iron to her skin good and hard. From the rumors he’d heard, initiates who made any sound, even a whimper, were refused entry into the sisterhood of the Amazons. The fallacy about them cutting off their right breast was a myth the humans had made up long ago. Even so, having a hot iron seared into one’s flesh must be equally painful.
He clenched his jaw as he examined the crescent Moon above Kyme’s right breast. To believe in an idea so strongly, to be so devoted one would brand one’s own skin… What would that be like?
“Nay, I can tell. Why then would you wish to hide it?” He crossed his arms and studied her.
Kyme shrugged. “I am not this dress.” She bit her lip. “This gown is not a reflection of who I am. Women of my race don’t wear such frivolous things. We despise them. This gown, it is too lovely for someone like me. I cannot wear
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