|The Swords of Gregara - Honora
Romance Fantasy Sci-Fi
They stole her love, her life and want to steal the secrets secured in her mind. Secrets that could topple world governments and decimate quadrant security forever. Now she’s on an epic quest to find out why and make those responsible pay.
Honora Reyestat gave up everything to become a member of the esteemed Gregarian Guard. No family, no friends, no connections--nothing that can ever be used against her. Captured and enslaved, she's become a prized gladiator for her master. Given the task of training a new slave, she recognizes a fellow Zolthor and the son of a tribal leader at that. Her mission changes from discovery of the enemy's tactics and secrets to returning Joridan to his people.
Drawn to this fierce woman as no other, Joridan Dolana tries to explain she is wrong. He's not Zolthor, he's Centauri. He was raised on Centauri with his sister. Faced with proof of a father's ultimate betrayal, he must choose between revenge and the protection of this woman who has sworn to never return his love.
“Oww” a woman’s voice awash with pain reached his ears.
“You disappoint me, Honora. You continue to try to escape me. When will you learn?” asked a whiney voiced man.
The whip struck flesh. Again the woman moaned but didn’t scream. She didn’t scream.
When he woke again he was not alone but the man with the whip was gone. Chained across the room from him, hung by her wrists, was a woman. He could see the lash marks on her back. Lash upon lash, new over old. They obstructed the beautiful tattoo of a dragon on her back. The blood hard to see within the red of the dragon.
Crawling to her he released her hands from the chains holding her up. She collapsed in a heap on the floor. He crawled back to his side of the room as darkness overtook him once more.
* * * * *
The dried blood on her back cracked with each movement, but she worked through the pain as she stretched. Breathed deep and accepted the pain. Her sword weighed heavier in her hand than usual. More evidence of the lashing two nights ago. She looked down at the unconscious man at her feet. A new recruit. A Zolthor, like herself. Another reason Perdor punished her for her attempted escape, her sixth try in as many months.
This last punishment was the worst. Five lashes. Not enough to incapacitate her but enough to make her remember. Perdor wanted her to be able to train the new slave. He wanted them to be a team, good enough to take on all contenders. He’d be the only owner with two Zolthor fighting for him. Not just one, but a team. He was practically wetting himself in anticipation of the beras that he’ll win with a team of Zolthor fighters.
Again she looked down on the naked man. Long brown lashes lay against his cheek. A nice contrast to his golden blond hair. What color eyes did they hide? Blue? Green? Brown perhaps. She’d find out soon enough.
He was a beautiful man. Well formed. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. Long muscular legs. He looked like a warrior. Would be a good fighter. Maybe even a good lover as he appeared well endowed there as well.
He’d awakened from the drug induced sleep long enough to crawl over and release her from the chains. For that she was grateful. Her wrists didn’t hurt as much as usual because of him. Using her blades was easier than it had been after her previous punishments.
Time to wake up the sleeping man and get him trained. Time was short and she intended to make the most of it. He would learn or he would die.