SICK HEART by Huss, JA (nice books to read TXT) 📗

old as twenty. That’s an amazing accomplishment for a sex slave.

She is not a whore. There is a very definite difference in these two things in the world of kings. Sex slaves are children and whores are women.

She might be turned in to one, if Udulf has his way. Pimped out to other kings. A prize, perhaps? For some favor. She might even make it to a breeder. She has a nice face, a perfect, athletic body, and she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

But that’s not really Udulf’s style. He doesn’t like to put his trophies on the shelf. He does not admire them. He uses them.

He will use her. Any way he feels fit.

I slip my shorts down my legs, turn towards the shower, and put Anya out of my mind. She is not your problem, Cort. You have your circle. You fought hard for them. They have fought hard for you. You drew a line, you made your choice, and now you are weeks away from freedom. Mere weeks. After twenty-seven years, you will finally, finally have your own life.

And I refuse to feel guilty about the ones I’m leaving behind.

I am no one’s savior.

I am no one’s hope.

And maybe Anya did help me that night on the ship, but I fought for her too. She is alive because of me. She is here, out of Udulf’s hands, because of me.

But she saved you too, Cort. And she might have a secret you can use.

No. I’m not getting caught up in her. I’m done with this shit. I turn the water on. Then I push her underneath it and step in next to her, wetting myself down, but just enough to coat our bodies with the water. Then I turn it off again, take her hand, squirt some shampoo into her palm, and then do the same for me.

We wash ourselves in silence. Me gazing one way, her the other. Pretending the other doesn’t exist.

I grab the dried-out bar of soap I brought up here last night and rub it over my skin. The scent reminds me of a hospital, which makes no sense, because I’ve never been to a real hospital. Every medical procedure I’ve ever had was done by Maart.

This makes me smile. I flip the water back on to rinse, but also to hide the smile.

Maart. He’s not a doctor, but he has saved my ass more times than I can count. Saving him back is the least I can do.

And Rainer has had my back in more underground training centers than I can count. You don’t start out fighting in the Ring of Fire. There are no cheering fans in the early days. You are dropped off at the event and if you win, you’re picked up when it’s over.

And trust me when I say this—when you’re in a third-world country, fighting a local rising star, the natives aren’t very happy when their ticket out dies.

I owe Rainer.

Evard never did anything for me but bring me a bottle of Lectra and then judge my bad behavior the next day.

I actually chuckle at that, then remember that Anya is behind me. I step out of the water and point for her to take my place. She is not looking at me, so I push her underneath the water.

I’m done, so I walk over to the pack I brought up and take out two towels. It’s still hot out tonight, but the sun is low on the horizon and the unbearable stuffiness has subsided until morning. By the time I’m dry and dressed in a clean pair of shorts, Anya is done. I shut the water off, throw her a towel, then point to the pack and walk away.

I don’t want to think about her.

She is not my problem. Hell, she’s damn lucky I talked Udulf out of taking her today. That will have consequences at some point. So the way I see it, she owes me. And I fully plan on getting her secrets before Udulf comes back. All of them.

In the kitchen I start the rice in the cooker and then lean against the counter, wishing I had started cooking before washing up so I didn’t have to wait for it.

To waste time, I go out onto the training floor, kinda looking for Anya, but not finding her. So she didn’t follow me down here. She probably senses my uneasiness and wants to stay as far away from me as she can. That’s how I’d be feeling if I were her.

And wasn’t I her once upon a time? Didn’t I walk around like that? Afraid of everything. Every too-loud noise. Every strange face in a crowd where all others were known. Every hushed whisper of my name in the night.

My call to duty.

I shudder with the thought of it. No. Not the thought of it. The memory of it.

I don’t like thinking back on it. And I think this is why I don’t like this girl.

She’s pretty enough to look at. But I learned early—very early—that beauty is deception. If there is one thing you do not want to be in this world we live in, it’s beautiful. If you’re beautiful, they notice you. It’s never good to be noticed in this world we live in.

I turn to the empty wall of the small building housing the kitchen, the clinic, and the toilets and in that moment, I wish they were all here with me. Because if Maart, and Rainer, and Evard, and the others were here, this last punishment would be over. And even though I like it out here—I really do—I don’t want to be here with this girl.

She bothers me. There is something about her that is very, very wrong.

And I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t want to put my finger on it. But at the same time, I want those secrets she hides behind her silence.

I know I earned my freedom. And Udulf admitted