Free Sex Slaves 1: Sex Traders by Lorie O'Clare

Chapter One
     
    “Hurry!” Flames leapt from the building. They wouldn’t get out in time. “Get the children down to the river. Follow it to the village.”
    Her father’s slaves had no skills. Bred for pleasure, the children his bastards, Marla knew their chances for survival were slim. But they would die a worse death here. The last of the women ran, the children fleeing by their sides, while the once beautiful structure that had been her father’s sanctuary burned to the ground.
    “Marla! Quick! Take cover!” Krone, her father’s personal guard, barely yelled his warning before a fire bullet scorched through his back.
    Burnt flesh filled the air with its unbearable stench. Her stomach bucked, bitter bile rising to her throat. She clamped her hand over her mouth, praying she wouldn’t vomit. Every minute counted if she were to stay alive through this nightmare.
    She ran toward the house, determined they wouldn’t find her father’s body. Black smoke filled her lungs, her eyes watering. Her black cape, the one she’d always worn with pride that marked her daughter of the house of Torl, served now only to cover her face.
    A Bortan flier buzzed overhead. Krone had told her father they would attack the structures. But Torl was a damned stubborn, old man. He’d refused to leave his home, and now he was dead.
    “Leave us alone,” she cried out toward the black, single-piloted Bortan flier. “You’ve destroyed us already.” She wouldn’t break down now. The lump in her throat threatened to spread into tears. “Let me bury my dead in peace.”
    The Bortan flier disappeared into the thick clouds formed from the burning countryside, but then reappeared before she made it across the yard. Her heart raced, fear creeping down her spine, when the black contraption lowered its landing gear. She’d heard the threats that the Bortan would quarter her father, casting his body parts over the four largest villages.
    “The end of the Torl Empire.” She’d laughed at the merchant who’d told her the stories. “They will desecrate his body, spreading his limbs for all to see that they have successfully wiped out the sex slave markets.”
    “They only want to corner the market for themselves.” She hadn’t a care in the world about the Bortan at that time.
    But the merchant had wagged a knowing finger at her. “Don’t be foolish. The Bortan control most of the solar system. They won’t have sex sold without their tax applied.”
    “The Torl family will breed sex slaves for generations to come,” she had assured him. “Tax free. The Bortan have no jurisdiction here.”
    What was left of her legacy burned beyond control.
    The Bortan pushed open the door of his flier, his metal armor that covered him from head to toe, visible even in the thick smoke. All of the guns were in the house. She had only her knife, useless against this metal-cast warrior. Horror gripped her while she watched him approach, his armor clinking with each step. If he didn’t kill her immediately, he would rape her. Worse yet, he would take her with him, possibly selling her as a torture slave at one of the Bortan outposts.
    She turned, knowing running was futile, but not willing to simply stand and accept her fate. Terror choked her, stealing her breath, making movement impossible. Behind her stood another person, tall, dark, his expression brooding. The last person she expected to see in her own front yard was mere feet away. Her mouth went dry, while her heart began pounding so hard that it hurt.
    Trev of Kopah, son of Kopah, her father’s worst enemy, approached her, laser in hand. It had been years since she’d seen him last, and then she’d kicked his ass. The gaunt teenager was gone, replaced by a muscular man, his grayish, almost lavender eyes hell-bent on their mission.
    Breathing was hard enough to do in the thick smoke, but staring into the face of the man whom she’d denied years ago made it almost impossible.
    His clothes