Whyam I back here? I found the one I wanted. The only one I’ll ever want. So whyam I…?

The question died before she could answer it assomething caught her attention. It was Thrace…atleast she thought it was Thrace.

But something was different about him. He lookedyounger—much younger—only an adolescent.

Adolescent Thracewas tall and gangly and not nearly as muscular as the Thrace she knew. But his hair wasthe same inky blue-black and his eyes were the same startling silver-blue.

He was up on an auction block.

Trin had seen one or two of these private auctions.They were held for only the rarest and most desirable slaves and buyers had topay a hefty fee to even join the auction in the first place. Several of themwere bidding now, standing in front of the raised platform where the young Thracewas displayed, calling out prices, trying to win him as though he was a rarepet they wanted for their private zoo.

Once, Trin would have thought the same thing—that amale had no more feelings than a beast. But now her heart went out to the youngThrace.He stood proudly, his chin raised, his big hands curled into fists at hissides. He didn’t make a sound, even when the auctioneer, a Catara from theDengba system, raised the scanty cloth he wore wrapped around his waist anddisplayed the size of his shaft.

“A tasty young mmmorsel, my lords and ladies,” theauctioneer purred, his pointed ears swiveling to catch the various bids. “Andmmmost well endowed, as you can see. Now…what ammm I bid?”

“Ten thousand!” a female who was certainly amistress from Yonnie Six exclaimed.

“Twenty!” shouted another.

“Twenty once…twenty twice…do I hear thirty thousandcredits?” The Catara auctioneer’s long furry tail lashed from side to side withexcitement.

“Thirty thousand,” the first mistress declared.

“Thirty-five. I must have him for my privatecollection!” The second mistress glared at her.

“Thirty-eight and not a credit more,” declared thefirst.

“Thirty-eight,” the auctioneer purred. “Goingonce…going twice…”

“Fifty thousand credits.” The voice belonged to a mediumsized male with thinning gray hair and rings on every finger. His rich robes ofpurple halla-cloth were pulled tight over his round belly and there was ahungry glitter in his small, piggy eyes that made Trin fear for the adolescent Thrace.

Fifty thousand—that’s what I paid for him.An exorbitant fee for an ordinary slave. But Thrace was anything but ordinary.Trin could see why he had inspired such a high price…twice.

“Sold!To the Master from Gemma!” the Catara auctioneer shouted when no one elsecountered the bid.

Suddenly,there was a commotion a few rows down.

“No!”A large Havoc male, the same size Thrace was now, came chargingthrough the crowd, his silver-blue eyes burning. He had his hands bound behindhis back but he didn’t let that stop him. “No, you male-raping bastard,” heshouted at the surprised master from Gemma who had just won the auction. “Youshall not have him! Not my only son!”

Itlooked to Trin like he was going to bowl the middle aged, gray haired masterright over. But then the master surprised everyone by pulling a blaster from thefolds of his purple robes and firing it point-blank at the other male’s chest.

Theshot stopped the angry Havoc in his tracks. He halted at once and looked down,a look of surprise on his face as he viewed the gaping, bloody hole in hischest. Then he fell to his knees, swayed a moment more…and crumpled to theground.

“No!”The howl of pure agony came from the young Thrace. His silver-blue eyes werefilled with shock and disbelief. “No, Father…please!” he begged as the security Crangs dragged the bloody corpseaway.

“Sir,”began the slaver who had been rushing after the older Havoc. “I appreciate thatyou felt you were being attacked but that slave was a valuable piece ofmerchandize and I must protest—”

“Here.”The Master from Gemma threw a jingling bag of credit-coins at the slaver’sfeet. “For your trouble. I can’t stand mouthy slaves.”

Theslaver picked up the bag and hefted it expertly in one many-fingered hand. Atonce his expression changed from anger to avarice.

“Afair price. Most kind, Master.”

“Takeit and go.” The Master turned his greedy gaze on Thrace once more. “I have a newslave to attend to…”

Trinwatched in horror as Thracewas dragged away, still looking over his shoulder and shouting for hisfather…begging him to get up…to not be dead…to come back.

Oh Thrace, I’m so sorry…so terriblysorry…

Thescene was horrible—it made Trin feel like her heart was being twisted in aspiked glove. She wished she could do something but she was frozen in place,unable to move or go after the young Thrace. Unable to help him in anyway or do anything but watch.

I don’t want to watch this! Please, justlet me go…

Butshe couldn’t go and the worst was yet to come.

Thescene shifted to the young Thracein a bedchamber wearing only a thick leather belt with a few scraps of fabrichanging from it for cover. He had his arms tied behind his back and he waswearing a cruel black pain collar with silver agony conducting studs.

Trinwatched, her heart beating in her throat. What was happening now? At least theyoung Havoc seemed to be all alone. Maybe he would be all right. Maybe…justthen the gray haired master walked in.

“Areyou ready?” he demanded, with no preamble. He came to stand before Thrace andglared up at him. “Ready to say the words? Ready to kneel before me and acceptyour fate as a good slave should?”

“Never.”Thraceraised his chin, looking coolly down his nose at the master. Though he hadobviously yet to reach his full size, he was still bigger than he had been inthe auction scene. Clearly some months or maybe even a cycle had passed.“Never,” he said again, glaring boldly at the other male. “I’ll never bow toyou. Never acknowledge you as my master.”

“Biteyour tongue, boy.” The master glared at him. “Or else maybe I should cut itout. I’d do it without a second’s hesitation if it didn’t feel so good wrappedaround my shaft.”

“You’venever had me willingly and you never will,” Thrace growled. “You have to usethe force gag every time because if you don’t you know I’ll bite that tiny,shriveled piece of meat you call a shaft in two and spit it out.”

Themaster’s face grew scarlet with rage.

“Youdare!” he roared, advancing on Thrace.“You dare to speak so to your master when you ought to be kneeling before meinstead? When you ought to be taking the oath of fealty, swearing to be mineforever?”

“I’llnever be yours,” Thracespat. “You might own my body but you cannot own my soul. You killed my sire andsomeday I will repay the favor.”

“Youmouthy little bastard.” The master’s face was nearly puce now. “Take back thosewords and swear the oath of fealty to me nowor I swear by all the Gods I’ll make you sorry.”

“I’malready sorry,” Thracesnarled. “Sorry you’re too much of a coward to let me loose before you come atme. Come on, old man—give me a fair fight.”

“Thisis your last chance.” There was a note of warning in the gray haired master’svoice that sent a shiver down Trin’s spine. She wanted to tell Thracethat he ought to curb his tongue. He was tied up…helpless and wearing a paincollar. He shouldn’t provoke the male who held the remote.

“Yourlast chance,” the master repeated.“I’ve been waiting for you…waiting for months for you to develop the properfeelings of obedience and love towards me. Waiting to take you until you spokeyour oath to me. But I swear to you, boy, tonight the waiting ends. Swear youroath to me and I will take you gently. Do not and I will take you just thesame…but not nearly as tenderly as I had planned.”

“Youthink I fear you?” Thracesneered. “I fear no male. I am Havoc!”