Claiming Their Slave (Barbarian Mates Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Additional Books in the Barbarian Mates Series

  More Stormy Night Books by Sue Lyndon

  Sue Lyndon Links

  Claiming Their Slave

  By

  Sue Lyndon

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Sue Lyndon

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Sue Lyndon

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Lyndon, Sue

  Claiming Their Slave

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by The Killion Group, 123RF/Milosh Kojadinovich, and 123RF/Petai Jantrapoon

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Chapter One

  For most of her life, Ava had wanted to run away.

  Every spring, she stood on her tiptoes and peered across the field of daisies that separated the village from the forest, gazing with longing at the thick green vegetation that stretched to the mountains. Sometimes she would gather her meager belongings in a sack and place it beneath her bed, preparing to sneak off in the middle of the night. However, she had yet to actually follow through with her plans.

  The stories she’d grown up hearing about monsters and bloodthirsty creatures that lurked in the woods always frightened her into staying. Huge bears with an appetite for human flesh. Two-headed wolves that could outrun the fastest man. Massive fierce cats that could leap upon you from the trees. Giant spiders and snakes whose venomous bites could leave one paralyzed and unable to move while being slowly eaten.

  Only skilled hunters had permission to venture into the forest. The Elders banned everyone else from leaving the village, and those caught walking beyond the perimeter of the community were usually put in the stocks or jailed for several days.

  The rules were intended to keep the inhabitants of the village safe, but having been born a slave and subject to her master’s whims, Ava had never quite felt safe.

  As scary as the forest was, it was her only chance at freedom.

  One day she would finally run away. She believed this in her heart. One day she would be brave enough to run off into the dark woods and never look back.

  Now that she was a young woman, she had to escape the village sooner, rather than later. At any time, her master could decide to breed her with another slave, and any children born of the union would also endure a life of slavery.

  She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  The afternoon sun blazed down, but after the harsh winter the village had suffered through, Ava welcomed the heat. She heaved a bucket of water to her hip and started the journey from the well to her master’s abode. Though her arms ached from the strain, she took the scenic route back, as she wanted to see the meadow of daisies again. Glimpsing her eventual path to freedom never failed to lift her spirits and fortify her bravery.

  One night, in the very near future, she would conquer the unknown. She would set off through that very field and run until she was breathless, run until she was so far away the hunters wouldn’t be able to track her down and drag her back.

  A curse from long ago had caused the forest to swallow up the roads and cut off all villages from one another, but she supposed if she traveled far enough, she could reach another community, where she could start her life anew. She could pretend she’d simply gotten lost in the woods and no one would realize she was a slave.

  Freedom. She would be free.

  Her throat burned with emotion, and she swallowed hard and approached the daisies. Still holding the bucket of water on one hip, she reached her free hand out and touched the tops of the flowers, allowing the soft petals to brush against her fingertips as she passed the field. A surge of courage swept through her, and perhaps it was only her imagination, but she suddenly felt physically stronger, as well as less frightened of the unknown that awaited her in the forest.

  “Maybe tonight,” she whispered, her gaze on the distant, mist-covered mountains.

  She returned to her master’s home and brought the bucket into the kitchen. She set about preparing the midday meal, vaguely wondering why her master wasn’t seated at the table already. He typically sat in the kitchen working on his wood carvings before the midday meal each day. He was a man of habit.

  Run away now, a little voice in the back of her mind whispered.

  Her stomach flipped. Did she dare? She peered out the window. No. She couldn’t. It was too nice a day, and the streets had been more crowded than usual. She would be spotted leaving and quickly chased down by a hunter, who would gladly return her to her master in hopes of a reward.

  Then she would be punished.

  Her master had never hit her, which was surprising, as most slaves weren’t treated well, but he did once place her in the stocks in the middle of the village. For two days, she’d been out in the open, where unkind villagers had tossed rotten vegetables at her and cruelly mocked her. Tears burned in her eyes at the memory. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed in frustration.

  A few generations ago, there hadn’t been any slaves in her village. But then the Elders decreed criminals convicted of serious crimes would not only forfeit their own lives, but their family’s freedom as well.

  Years ago, her father had killed a man during an argument, when her mother was pregnant with her. On the same day her father was hanged, her heavily pregnant mother was sold to her current master, with the money going to the victim’s family. Now, any children Ava had would be slaves, and their children as well. And so on down the line. All because of a father she’d never met. She released another sigh of frustration and set about concentrating on her tasks, needing the distraction of her chores to keep herself from wallowing in misery over a past she couldn’t change.

  After placing lunch on the table, she left the kitchen to go in search of her master. Perhaps he’d gone to lie down. She ventured upstairs and down the hallway, peering through doorways. A sense of foreboding made her legs move slower and her hands shake, but she shrugged the odd feeling off and continued on. Yet the breeze that entered the open windows left her colder and colder as it blew her hair haphazardly about her shoulders. Something was wrong.

  “Ava!” her master called, just as she reached the end of the hall, where her small bedroom—which had once been used as a storage closet—was located. “Ava! Get in here!”

  Her stomach flipped when she came to stand in the doorway. The old man was crouched on the floor next to her bed, rooting through her runaway bag. She’d filled it with fresh food and other supplies two days ago, hoping she would finally be brave enough to have need for it soon.

  Her mouth went dry and she started backing up.

  Goddess, what would he do to her?

  “Two of Monrock’s slaves ran away in the middle of night.” Spittle flew from his mouth. He glared up at her, his expression cold, his lips twisted in disgus
t. “He said I should be vigilant, in case my slave was planning the same, so I decided to reassure myself that you weren’t preparing to leave too. Imagine my surprise when I found this under your bed!” The last few words came out as a deafening roar that made Ava flinch.

  He turned the bag upside down and shook out the contents. Fruit, cured meat, cheese, flatbread, a small kitchen knife, and other supplies crashed to the floor. Two apples rolled past her feet.

  “Master, please,” she said, her hands already shaking. But she didn’t know what to say. When he looked at her, he saw a criminal who deserved to endure a life of slavery, despite the fact that her father had been the one to break the law.

  But Ava was tired of paying a penance for a father she’d never met. She was sick of wondering if her life would be cut as short as her mother’s. She was outraged that the slave owners in this village routinely bred their slaves to ensure their own children would have plenty of slaves for their households.

  “After all I’ve done for you,” he spat. “After how well I’ve treated you. You were born in this house. I am practically your father.”

  She drew herself up tall and placed her hands on her hips, giving her master the boldest look she could muster. “You are not my father. I have no father. And I have no mother anymore, thanks to you. When she became ill, you held off on calling a doctor until it was too late. I owe you nothing, and I will be free one day.” Inside, she was trembling, but Ava maintained her brave front and stood her ground as her master rose to his feet.

  Run, you fool, she thought. He was an old man, but he wasn’t feeble yet. He was much larger and stronger than her. If he got his hands on her, there was no telling what he might do. Slaves didn’t challenge their masters and get away with it.

  She took a few steps back, preparing to bolt into the hallway and rush downstairs, but he matched her step for step. The floorboards creaked under his feet. Fear clutched her heart. If he caught her, she would endure his punishment, but then she would run away the first moment she could manage, whether she had a bag of supplies packed or had to hurry across the meadow with nothing but the clothes on her back.

  Her mother used to tell her the institution of slavery had made the village a darker place than it had once been. The hearts of men had withered, and their shrinking hearts would only grow crueler with the passing of time. The merciless gleam in her master’s eyes only reinforced all her mother had told her, and a chill went down her spine.

  “Come here, slave.”

  Pulse pounding in her ears, Ava turned and fled into the hallway, then finally reached the steps. She heard the thumping of her master’s feet on the staircase. He was close behind her.

  “Stop! I swear, you will sorely regret this disobedience!”

  She might regret it, but she would always regret her hesitation and cowardice more. She should’ve left the village a long time ago, rather than playing at running away, staring across the meadow and keeping the bag under her bed stocked with fresh supplies, yet never daring to set foot on the path to freedom. All because she feared the monsters in the forest that she’d never actually seen.

  She reached the entryway of the house and yanked the front door open, only to collide with a huge solid body. The man, who reeked of alcohol, growled and grasped her upper arms, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. She struggled to escape his hold, but his grip only tightened. Peering up, she gasped to find Monrock, her master’s eldest son, had captured her.

  “Please please please let me go,” she whispered quickly.

  For a time, when they were both children, he had been like a playmate to her. Until one day when his father decreed they were no longer allowed to play together, and she hadn’t even been allowed to speak to him for years. The time she’d ended up in the stocks had been because his father had caught her trying to talk to Monrock, not long after her mother had passed away and she’d been so dreadfully sad and lonely that she’d risked it.

  Monrock’s eyes narrowed and he squeezed her arms harder, making her gasp in pain. Her heart sank. He wouldn’t help her. If anything, he would make her suffering worse. Though he’d been kind as a child, somewhere along the way he’d turned into a darker version of his father. She had no difficulty believing his slaves had had good reason to run away, and she hoped they survived in the woods and managed to find another village to call home.

  “What’s going on, Father?” he said, peering over Ava’s head.

  “She was indeed planning to run away. I found a bag packed with stolen supplies underneath her bed.” The old man’s breath came in ragged gasps for a long moment, before he took some deep inhales and more calmly said, “I wonder if she was preparing to run off at the same time as your slaves, Monrock, on purpose. Perhaps she knew of their plans all along and had intended to join them soon after their escape.”

  The fear churning through her amplified, her blood running cold and her insides quaking. “No, that’s not true. I had no knowledge of your slaves planning to run away, Monrock. I swear it.” She twisted in his hold, but to no avail. He wouldn’t let her go. At this point, she would be lucky to avoid the public whipping post. It was Monrock’s favorite place to punish his errant slaves. She grew even colder and trembled in his bruising grip.

  “Thomas was in the market earlier, inquiring about a slave to purchase. Perhaps you should put her up on the auction block and let the rich old man bid on her. With the profits, you could buy a dozen new loyal slaves to replace this bitch.”

  His words gutted her.

  Thomas was an Elder who was above the law in every way. Many of his slaves had mysteriously disappeared over the years, and it was rumored he’d beaten them to death. He also employed the whipping post more than any master in the village and had a reputation for impregnating his female slaves, then selling the children—his own flesh and blood—once they were old enough to leave their mothers.

  Ava couldn’t imagine a fate worse than belonging to Thomas.

  All her bravery fled and she stilled in Monrock’s arms. “Please, I’ll do anything. Don’t put me on the auction block. I’ll atone for what I’ve done. I promise.” She really should have run when she’d had the chance.

  Surely, the monsters in the village were worse than those in the forest.

  Her master yanked on her hair, forcing her head back. He put his mouth to her ear, his foul breath nearly making her gag. “I am not in a forgiving mood today, Ava. You will be sold to the highest bidder, and Thomas will likely be your new master before the day is over.”

  “You’ll get a fine price for her, Father, as she’s never been bred.” One of Monrock’s hands loosened on her arm and he traced her breast with his fingers, his gaze one of pure malice.

  Not for the first time, she wondered what had made Monrock so hard and merciless, when as a young child he’d been nothing but kind to her. Was it his mother dying in childbirth, when he was but eight years old? Was it his strict upbringing? Or was it something else that had happened to him that she wasn’t aware of? Maybe she was naïve, but she liked to think all men came into the world as a pure slate, but sometimes their hearts were darkened by horrible events that left a mark on them for life. But what did it matter now? There didn’t appear to be a speck of goodness left in Monrock.

  Her master released her hair and ventured back in the house, while she waited on the doorstep, still a captive of the man who’d once been her friend. Her heart ached, remembering what he’d once been. They used to stare at the field of daisies together and exchange stories about the monsters that lived within the forest. He used to sneak her sweetcakes in the middle of day, when his father was busy selling his woodcarvings and cured meat in the market. Once, he’d brought her a bouquet of daisies, the largest ones that grew further out, having snuck into the field in the dimness of the early morning to gather a bunch of her favorite flowers.

  Before he hardened, and before both of their mothers died, she used to think her future wouldn’t be so horrible.
She used to dream that one day he’d offer to buy her from his father, or perhaps he’d inherit her when his father passed away, and then he would take her as one of his wives. It wasn’t common for a slave to be taken as a wife, but sometimes the Elders approved such a union—as long as they were given a handsome bribe.

  But now the thought of becoming one of Monrock’s wives made her stomach roil. He had two wives, and she’d glimpsed both of them sporting bruises on their faces when they ventured to the village well. He didn’t treat his wives much more kindly than he treated his slaves.

  A heavy weight was suddenly placed on her neck. It took Ava a moment to realize her master had placed a slave collar on her. He tugged on a leash that was attached to the weighted metal chain, causing her head to jerk backward.

  Tears burned in her eyes. All her hopes and dreams crashed at her feet. When she envisioned the field of daisies, all the flowers were blackened, as if suddenly charred with despair.

  Monrock and his father led her toward the crowded market.

  * * *

  Jaxon peered through the trees at the human village. Raised voices and a multitude of people gathered around a platform caught his attention. Normally when he came across a village, he kept moving. He’d never interacted with a human before, but he’d heard they were weak, pathetic creatures. Deciding they posed no danger to him and curious about the increasing noise, he stepped out of the tree line and walked closer, through a meadow of daisies.

  His gaze immediately locked on a young human woman who stood on the platform, her hands bound to a wooden post behind her. She wore an expression of mounting fear.

  Tears shone in her pretty blue eyes, and she trembled on the platform. Yet her chin remained raised, as if she were trying to remain brave in the face of danger or injustice. Something in Jaxon’s chest tightened, and he felt an odd desire to ensure no harm came to this young woman.