The Slave

Chapter 2

One,

Two,

Three,

Four dead men,

Five,

Six,

Seven to die,

Eight,

Nine,

Ten more to bury.

†††††††

Shaking my head. I said, "No."

 "No?" Seth asked with a raised brow. "You don't know your masters number?" It sounded more of a statement than a question, although his facial expression told a story of a question. 

"Yes I don't know my masters number, Sir." I said then bowed my head.

The talk of master made me remember my place in life. I was nothing but a slave. A slave was never meant to look in the eyes of others above him. A slave was meant to be respectful. And since I woke up I've been far from it.  They knew I'm a slave. The collar on my neck and the fact that I'm human said it all.  

"Okay," Timi says dragging out the letters as they're pronounced. "Well you've been in coma for five days now, so all your injures are not healed up so I'll advice you to take it easy, but you're a Slave. Such an advice is of no use. But anyway, do try to take it easy."

 "Thank you Sir." I said, in a sickly respectful and a thankful voice. I was far from thankful. These bastards couldn't just let me die. They should have left me where they found me. All I've ever wanted was death. But no, these self-employed, lifesaving bastards didn't let me have the one thing I've always wanted. 

 Death.

 Do I have to write on my forehead, 'I want to f*****g die'.

Let me f*****g die in peace.

 Anger shoved it's beautiful head on my face and hatred filled my heart, till it overflowed with it's venom and spread itself throughout my desecrated temple, I called a body. I was nothing but a slave.

A s*x slave.

Nothing about me is pure or innocent, except my innocent young feeble looking face.

 "What about your masters name?" Lieon asked. 

"Um. My masters name is Lord Damon, Master of the house of Valar, sir."

 "Your master is a werecat." Seth said with disgust dripping out of his mouth like a drooling dog.

 "Yes sir." I said.

What did he have against my Mater?

Well that is non of my beeswax.

"Well I'll leave you three to talk." Timi said as he quickly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

 Lieon and Seth both sat down at the two sits besides my bed. They both made the act of sitting down the most elegant and graceful thing I had ever seen. Turning the act, into an art. 

"Do you know what we are?" Lieon asked me.

 "No sir. I can't tell. I'm human." I said with a duh voice. Seth growled at me with narrowed his emerald green eyes staring at me. I didn't dare look up to see the expression on his face and the look in his eyes. He was obviously annoyed with the tone I used in talking to Lieon.

"We are werewolves," he growls out. "And we are the Alpha's of Saxsan City and we are also mate's. Do you know what a mate is, Slave?"

 The way he said the word slave, it was as if it was my birth given name. Spitting the word out like an insult, but also the truth and a reminder. A reminder of who I am and where I stand at the bottom of the bottom of the imaginary food chain pyramid. How could he think I'll ever forget the fact that I'm a slave. A s*x slave. It's impossible for me to forget. s*x. It was the only thing I was good at. Nothing else. I couldn't even commit a successful suicide, even if I was paid. 

 "Yes sir." 

"Well you are our mate," Lieon said straight forwardly, it was obvious that Lieon did have the time to beat around the bush or play on words. There was no need for that, after all I'm just a slave.

Besides, even if Lieon had decided to have a go with his words at the end of it all it still meant one thing...I'm there mate. The words that he said threw me in a state of shock and I had to raise up my head and look at them.  They must be joking. But the serious expression on their face told me that they where far from joking. They are my mates. There's nothing I could do about it, but accept it.  But I don't want a mate, not to talk about mates. All I wanted was just to die in peace or pieces, as long as I'm dead. I'm cool with whatever happens to my body. It's not like I do not like my body, believe me I do. It's just that I love 'peace,' more than I love my body.

My Master had told me that when I die, he would remove me eyes and exchange them for rubies.  He said that my eyes where beautiful. Everybody that saw my eyes said they where beautiful. My eyes where different. It had colors that where put together in a different way. My eyes were the greatest thing I managed to love about myself but also the thing I hated more about myself. It draws unwanted people to me. Well I hate people, so people where always unwanted and unwelcome, to me.  I remember when I was fourteen, I stood in a straight line waiting to be chosen to serve one of my formal Masters. When my formal Master hat taken one look at me, he immediately chose me as one of his s*x slave, irrespective of my age. He had told me that, my eyes drawn him to me. He had described my eyes as the darkest hour of the night with only the moon to serve as light. He said that they remained him of hope. Hope. I had sarcastically laughed at his description.  

Hope?

What a joke.

Hope? 

 What a joke.