To Command and Collar [Masters of the Shadowlands 6] Read Free Page A

Hollywood’s Dance of the Seven Veils—she was doing four, and that was that.
As the beat picked up, she began the undulating movements, ignoring the painful pulling of the barely healed muscles over her ribs. She concentrated on the dance, trying to ignore the men watching. All of them. The Overseer’s face had flushed with lust, and she concealed a shudder . Music. Think of the music.
One more veil and her breasts were bare. She shimmied as her teacher had taught. The middle-aged buyer swallowed and leaned forward. She turned her gaze away. Her body wanted to dance; her soul needed to flee. Her brain knew better and took control, forcing her feet closer to the darkly tanned buyer. Eyes down, she managed to smile appealingly and not grimace. Another spin. Move closer.
She lifted her head finally. Her eyes met his, and he trapped her gaze as tightly as he’d gripped her hair earlier. Yet his look was warm, so warm, and when he released her, he seemed to have taken off all the chains binding her muscles.
The music poured around her, rocking her in its embrace. She floated through the dance, the beat of the dumbek ruling her hips, the song of the mizmar moving her arms and shoulders. Each foot came down exactly right, the feeling indescribable.
Removing the last veil bared her completely, but the sound increased, pulling her after until it slowed and stopped.
She realized she’d knelt in front of Master R instead of in the center of the room. As if he’d keep her safe from the others. The murmur of conversation came from the other two buyers and the Overseer.
Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Out of shape. She hadn’t danced since before Lord Greville had… Since before. A film of moisture dampened her body, and the breeze was cool against her skin. Naked . She hated the feeling of being unclothed in front of men. Why hadn’t it seemed a problem in the clubs she’d visited in the past?
Because it had been her choice then. And she’d stripped to please and arouse whoever she was playing with. Right now, the thought of arousing anyone wasn’t at all appealing. Yet if she didn’t, the consequences…
She’d still been recovering during the last private sale—thank you, God—but after the buyers had left, one slave had remained, unwanted and unsold. The Overseer had given her to the staff. The woman’s shrill screams had eventually died, sometime late in the night, and the next day, she’d returned to the locked room. Not a person anymore; nothing lived behind her blank eyes. The Overseer had fined his staff a week’s wages for ruining the merchandise. And the slave had…disappeared.
Kim swallowed hard.
Sure fingers cupped her chin, lifting her face. The brown eyes that had been so cold at first now held the desire she wasn’t sure she wanted…and something else. Concern? “What is wrong, chiquita ?” he asked softly.
The question, the gentleness brought tears to her eyes. She tried to pull back, but his fingers tightened, keeping her face exposed to his scrutiny. To her horror, she realized she was close to crying. No . “Please. Don’t.”
His frown grew. Then he released her and looked away. When he turned back, his eyes were remote, his face like stone, chilling her inside as well as outside. For a moment, he’d almost seemed human.
Haven’t you learned anything, Kim? You really are a dumb slut like Lord Greville said.
“Gentlemen, if you are ready, the dungeon is waiting,” the Overseer announced.
The fat one made a pleased sound, face filling with lust.
The older one snapped, “About time.” He rose and grabbed Holly by her hair, dragging her behind him. She was half-bent over. Crying.
Kim’s wish to kill the cruel man almost…almost outweighed her common sense. But she’d learned. Painfully. Interfering meant the slavers would beat her—and the woman she tried to help as well. The short whip slicing across her back, then the shocking explosion of pain. The screaming of