Anything for you Mistress… Enslaved (Brides of the Kindred #14) by Evangeline Anderson

18+ From Goodreads: " New worlds , amazing adventures and yes very erotic encounters , add in an old enemy of the Kindred and this series just does not run out of steam. I thoroughly enjoy these books and cannot wait to find out what will happen next."

Description:

Enslaved is book number 14 in the Brides of the Kindred series. It is a plus-length novel of around 168,000 words

Anything for you Mistress…

Thrace S’ver is an unwilling slave. Drugged and bound, he is taken to the Flesh Bazaar and put up for sale to the highest bidder. But this is not the first time Thrace has been on the auction block—he has a past full of horrors he doesn’t intend to repeat. Desperate to be free, he swears he’ll kill whoever buys him.

Lonnara Trin is the Captain of a merchant ship from the all female planet of Zetta Prime where sexual relations with a male are considered unnatural and wrong. She has no use for males personally, but she needs a big, muscular slave or her business will suffer—Thrace fits the bill.

Soon Mistress and slave are embroiled in a desperate conflict which draws them intimately together. To her surprise, Trin actually begins to have feelings for her slave. And though Thrace swore to be free, he finds himself devoted to his new Mistress. When their differences threaten to tear them apart, Trin tries to grant Thrace his freedom. But she doesn’t realize that his heart has already been…Enslaved.

EXCERPT

“I don’t believe this,” Sidna said flatly. “You’re saying he’s staying on as your slave willingly? And he’s also willing to wear the collar—the one that almost killed him?”

“He is,” Trin said steadily, looking at Thrace though she was answering the medic. “Thrace volunteered to wear the pain collar so that you and the rest of the crew would know he is not a threat. I have the remote and I will use it if it looks like he is trying to harm any one of us.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Thrace said stolidly. He took a deep breath. There was nothing to do but get it over with. Taking a step towards her, he fell to his knees on the cold metal floor at her feet. “Mistress,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse and gravely. “I submit to you and offer my neck for your collar. I will serve you until I die or until you set me free.”

Trin cleared her throat. “And you submit to my collar and my will of your own volition?”

“I do,” Thrace said hoarsely. “I will belong to you body and soul. I will protect you with my life, shield you from harm in times of danger, and pleasure you in times of peace. To the last drop of my blood, I…am…yours.”

Those words…the words he had always refused to say. He said them to Trin now. They brought back more memories—an evil tide of poison from the past that threatened to drown him. Say it! the Master screamed. Say that you’re mine! Fucking say it, boy!

Thrace bowed his head, trying to drive the tide back, to banish the past. Gods…

“Thrace…” Trin reached out tentatively and stroked his hair. It was a gentle touch—the same way she might soothe an animal on the verge of panic. Thrace found himself soothed by it now.

He couldn’t help himself—the memories had undone him and for a long moment he couldn’t push them back. He leaned into her touch, looking for reassurance, needing her scent and the warmth of her hand to know it was safe to do this…safe to submit to the collar he had so hated in the past.

Not the Master, he told himself over and over. She’s not the Master.

Why the fuck are you putting yourself through this? demanded the sarcastic little voice in his brain. Why endure the pain and the rush of bad memories? Is it really just to pay a debt?

Again, he had no answers. He simply held still under her touch, breathing her warm, feminine scent and trying to calm his screaming nerves. Even surrounded by B’Rugh’s goons he hadn’t felt this fucked up—this threatened. In a moment he would be able to bury the past again. But for now, it was all he could do to hold still and let this happen, all he could do to submit to the collar for her sake though he still didn’t know why exactly he was doing it.

“Thrace,” Trin whispered again and her hand moved lower, caressing his cheek, cupping his jaw.

A warm current seemed to flow through him at the skin-to-skin touch and at last his labored breathing became easier.

Not the Master…The past began to recede.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Trin asked in a low voice, for his ears alone.

Thrace looked up at her. “I have to,” he murmured. “It’s the only way you can trust me.”

She looked troubled but at last she nodded.

“True. All right—here goes.”

Thrace held his breath and closed his eyes as she fastened the hated black collar around his throat, making sure it wasn’t too tight as she fit it in place. Not the Master…not the Master, not the Master…

“There.” She said at last, cupping his cheek again. “It’s done.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Thrace could barely get the words out. Turning his face, he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand. It was the final gesture of submission—kissing the hand that collared him.

He knew it was the correct gesture because it was what the old Master had demanded of him. But he had never given the old Master that satisfaction or said the words he had spoken to Trin, no matter how much the Master shouted and raved and hit. No matter what…other things he did.

Now he gave the gesture of submission to Trin without hesitation, just as he had given the words.

Why?

He still didn’t know.

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About the author:
Evangeline Anderson is a registered MRI tech who would rather be writing. She lives in Florida with her husband and son and enjoys reading, writing, baking, and playing Diablo II. (She has a barbarian named Giggles and a necromancer named Jimbo.) Despite her goofy hobbies, she writes smoking hot paranormal, sci-fi, and BDSM erotica

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