CHAPTER TEN



She's so soft, mused Hunter, running her fingers through raven locks. She snorted softly to herself, why wouldn't she be? She raised her hand form the tousled head and studied it intensely. She traced the map of thin scars criss-crossing the knuckles and meandering towards a pale wrist. The golden tan covering her hand and forearm was interrupted by a white band of flesh, another reminder of her days spent in bondage. Turning her hand she looked at the calluses coating the hills and valleys of her palm, each fingertip crowned with a rough halo. These were the hands of a warrior, a worker. Hands, she realised, could define their owner. Her lean, strong, scarred hands were the epitome of who she was both inside and out.

Eyes flickered to the pale hand laying beside her thigh. Long fingers curled inwards towards her palm revealing red polished nails, perfect in every way. Smooth porcelain skin over sleek muscle, flawless. Not a single blemish marred the perfection, yet they looked so vulnerable. The fingers twitched in sleep, closing into a tighter fist. This woman was beautiful, unique but ultimately fragile. Without thought Hunter began to trace one rough fingertip across Francesca's wrist. The sleeping woman flinched away from the touch as if she had been burned, recoiling away form the seated woman.

Francesca woke in a blind panic as she felt the touch on her arm. Why was Douglas in her bed? He never came to her any more, not since the twins were born, he had playmates for this. Her body was rigid and her eyes screwed tightly closed, trying desperately to distance herself form the pain that she was sure was coming. In this state it took her several moments to realise that the touch had ended almost as soon as it began. Confused, Francesca extended her senses cautiously noticing for the first time the sound of birdsong and the scent of grass. She slowly opened her eyes and found herself looking at the concerned face of her slave.

Forcing a smile she sat up. She was not going to let thoughts of Douglas spoil her day, it had started so well. She knew that her mother wanted her to relax and the slave was quite good company, once you loosened her up a bit. In her heart Francesca knew that she needed a friend and had found herself placing Hunter in that role in her mind. Wanting to alleviate the tension that had grown around them Francesca's smile turned sheepish.

"Wow, guess I was more tired than I thought!" She joked as she glanced at her watch. "You hungry?"

"You have to ask?" It was the one joke that the women shared. Hunter was a bottomless pit where food was concerned and the amount she could pack away fascinated the free woman.

"Chicken or ham?"

**********

"Mrs Prince said that you might show me something?" Hunter was honestly curious as to her owners special skill.

"Oh, that." Francesca ran a hand over her face to hide her embarrassment. It had been a cool talent to have when she was in school, but in front of this warrior her little feat seemed silly.

"You don't have to, I'm only here to serve. You don't have to feel obligated, you own me." Hunter really didn't want to upset the other woman. She had been distressed by the way in which she had woken up, and wanted to know why the dark woman's reaction had been so extreme (although she had an idea). Yet the divide created by their positions forbade her from prying too deeply.

"Promise not to laugh?" Hunter could see that the other woman was genuinely concerned. The other woman had been playful all day and had even tried to teach the warrior some of the games that her children enjoyed. She hadn't even asked why the slave had been touching her in her sleep, something Hunter could only be grateful for.

"I promise." Her voice was softer than she had intended and took her darker companion by surprise.

"Alright!" As suddenly as she said it, Francesca was up and running straight towards the clear water. Rather than stopping at the edge as Hunter had expected, she ran straight off the bank and splashed into the river only stopping once the water was mid-thigh.

There she stood, rising out of the water like a sun bathed goddess. Her blue eyes reflected the exact colour of the water that lapped against her. She was completely still, breathing slowly, allowing the water to calm around her. Hunter was mesmerised by what she saw. In the time that she had been with the woman she had watched her dance and workout, but had never really thought of her as a physical person. Now, watching her, Hunter was struck by her sleek athleticism. This woman could be formidable if she'd just let go.

Suddenly Francesca darted forwards, her hands disappearing under the water. She rooted around under the surface and with a triumphant grin brought her hands up. In her grip she held a single silver skinned fish. The sunlight gleamed off it's skin as it struggled valiantly to regain it's freedom. She turned, holding up her prize for her audience to see.

"Damn, I could never do that." The words just slipped from Hunters mouth before she could censor them. She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that the other woman had misunderstood.

"Of course you could, it just takes practice." Francesca waded out of the water as Hunter let out a mental sigh of relief.

The heiress reached the shore and stripped out of her linen pants, leaving herself clad only in a long shirt and panties. She laid her soaked clothing on a nearby rock to allow the warm sun to dry the thin fabric and turned towards her protector. She was amused to note that the other woman was respectfully turned away from her, looking anywhere but at her. At that moment, looking at the shorter woman, Francesca felt a pang of something deep inside. Francesca took in the bowed head, for the first time noticing that the blue was growing out, being replaced by blond roots.

I wonder why she's so embarrassed?

BANG!

Idol thoughts ceased as both women's heads snapped in the direction of the house...and the ear splitting sound.

**********

The wing laid in ruins, flames licking towards the blue sky as if worshipping the sun. What had once been three storeys was reduced to ground level. Blue and red light bathed the scene as emergency vehicles surrounded the building. Firemen clustered around the perimeter of the blaze, hoses pointed at the fiery menace, water arcing forward at high pressure.

Francesca ran for the three ambulances on the lawn, her body numb with fear as her legs drove her forward. Hunter was hot on her heels, her fear for both the victims and the woman running to them. As the dark haired woman reached the stretchers should was almost knocked off her feet at the sight of two crisp, shinny body-bags laying side-by-side on the grass. Her heart leapt into her throat before she realised that the figures in the bags were almost unnaturally large. Not her children, or even Douglas, she couldn't help but breath an audible sigh of relief. She swept towards the open back of the first ambulance.

Hunter's feet stopped of their own accord as her eye's fell on the black bags. Looking at the dimensions of the bags she knew instantly who was in each one. The identical bags held identical men, gentle men who didn't deserve to die like this. They should have gained their freedom and had a life. She tore her eyes away from her comrades and turned them to the ambulances. Francesca was leaning over a small reclining figure, tears streaming down her face. On two other beds sat Douglas, Terrance and Rochel. The three of them looked battered but mostly fine. At least the boys hadn't died in vein.

**********

Francesca sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair in the emergency room's waiting area. Trying not to think about what was happening to her children she couldn't help but muse about progress. In a world where genes could be mapped and planets could be reached, a comfortable plastic chair was still out of reach. This line of reasoning didn't last long as once more the waves of guilt came crashing down on her. She should have been there to protect her babies not playing in the woods with a slave!

As soon as they had arrived at the hospital Rebecca had been rushed to into surgery. Her beautiful littlest girl had been caught in the worst of the blast, in the same area as Polar and Grizzly. Her left arm had been burnt but the rest of her had been protected from the flames by the body of one of the men. The impact of the falling body must have been extreme as she had four broken ribs and a collapsed lung as well as a possible skull fracture. Francesca desperately wanted to be outside the operating room, but first she had to wait for her other children, then they could all go up together.

Terrance and Rochel had only suffered minor injuries. They and their father had been outside the nursery when the bomb went off and thrown clear of the blast. Terry had suffered a broken arm and minor cuts while his sister only had a sprained ankle. They were presently being treated. Douglas had suffered a broken collar bone and was waiting to be treated.

The singer raised her head from her hands and looked at her slave. The old resentment of the animal was resurfacing as a defence mechanism, she could blame Hunter for all this. They shouldn't have gone to the woods. She was on the verge of lashing out at the silent figure when their eyes locked. In the depths of the artificially blue eyes she saw despair. It was like looking into a bottomless pit of sadness, she started to be pulled into the void and had to tare herself away before she fell too far to escape. She turned her gaze back to the floor.

"Mummy, it hurts!" The small tearful voice instantly pulled her forward and she swooped up her son and held him like he was the most precious thing in the world. One of a priceless set of three.



CHAPTER ELEVEN



She wanted to be anywhere but here. She wanted to be upstairs with her parents and her children. Instead she was waiting for Douglas while her babies were being watched protected by slaves. Slaves like those who had failed and allowed this to happen. Once more she felt a welling of intense emotion directed to her own property, but she squashed it. She was neither ready nor prepared to face the implications of the strength of her feelings towards Hunter, either good or bad.

The room was eerily silent, even though it was filled with people, each one waiting for news on a loved one. The air would occasionally be invaded by a muffled sob or a snore as people became agitated or submitted to the blissful oblivion of sleep. Francesca just felt numb. When she had seen her little boy stumble towards her, his arm in a huge, obscenely white, caste and his face bruised and cut she had crumbled. She had clutched him to her so tightly that she had feared that he might break, afraid to let go. When, minutes later his sister had been carried in by a tall, red haired, nurse the relief that had flowed over her had an almost physical impact on the singer. She had fallen back into her chair and held out her arms for Rochel. Her foot was strapped and her eyes were red, but she was in much better condition than her big brother.

They had stayed like that for thirty minutes, until Salvatore and Darla arrived from the police station. They and the rest of the household had been interviewed for hours about the events leading up to the explosion. Francesca and Hunter had also been quizzed, but their absence had made them less valuable witnesses. The police had allowed them to head directly to the hospital from the house, with the condition that they head to the station in the morning. Darla looked at her daughter with pity in her eyes and offered to take the children up to wait for Rebecca. Francesca had nodded in thanks and watched as her parents carried away her offspring, flanked by the dour countenance of Wolf, Phoenix and Snake. That had been two hours ago.

Now here she was looking like the dutiful wife waiting for her husband. The reality couldn't be further from the truth. She wanted to know why Douglas had let this happen. She wanted to blame the man who had been ruining her life for almost ten years. So she sat and waited, alone. Hunter had long since stood and walked away to stand beside the admit desk. Her eyes were constantly looking over the room, never landing on the other woman.

Hunter felt isolated and confused. She had spent years taking other people's lives without remorse, it was what had made her such an exceptional gladiator. Death shouldn't have any impact on her after what she had done, but here she was caught up in thoughts of the men that she had lost. They had been so childlike in their outlooks, they had never become the jaded old soldiers that the rest of them were. She would not cry, she couldn't, but she felt another piece of her heart break off and float away.

She looked back to where her owner sat. She had felt the change in the other woman as they had sat beside each other. It seemed to ebb and flow between pent up fury and despair and most of the fury seemed to be directed at her. She could see it in each glance that the dark woman threw at her, like a weapon. The woman was breaking down and she was not looking forward to the confrontation to come. When the slave had looked at the injured children she had felt a pain in her gut, a sensation that she hadn't felt since Jordan was taken from her. Looking at the pale, tiny form of Rebecca, death did seem like a terrible thing. Nothing like that should have to happen to this little girl. Things like this were only meant for her.

**********

Douglas was seething. How dare she not be there to look after her own children. She'd rather be out gallivanting with that creature, doing God knows what together. That though led to it's own chain reaction of rage, the indignities in his mind building up in layers. She belonged to him, he had marked her years before and she had never so blatantly disobeyed him as she since that slave came along.

Buying the slaves had seemed like such a good idea. He would further exert his power over her, having his eyes, ears and hands close to her all the time. Hunter was too wilful for that to be a possibility. The second rate killer had a set of scruples, a moral code that did not gel with his world view. No, she was not the asset that he had hoped she'd be. He had realised almost from the start that Savage would have been the perfect choice for Francesca. The weasely man was snide and vindictive and cherished the violence. He would have done whatever Douglas asked. When the bitch had hit him things had started to change. Francesca was like a different woman. No, that wasn't it, she was becoming the girl he married again. Not the woman he owned.

He was beginning to be cut out of her business dealings and she was controlling her own money. The physical domination he had used on her for years was no longer an option and he was loosing his hold. There was no way that Salvatore would side with Douglas against his daughter. But this new development might play into his hands, he could use the children to show what a bad mother Francesca was becoming. Blackmail would be a far less strenuous control mechanism than he was used to. He smiled to himself, this just might work out after all.

**********

The doors to the waiting room were flung open by the brown haired man. His arm was close to his body and secured in a sling to prevent him form further damaging his collar bone. His face sported a large gauze over the right cheek and a matching black-eye. His eyes were dark and his countenance was stiff, edgy. His was looking for a fight and he was about to find one.

Francesca stood up when she saw Douglas enter the room and cringed at the look in his eyes. She had seen that look a thousand times before. It always manifested itself before he hit her, with good reason, or so he always told her. She pulled her courage together and stood in front of him. He couldn't hit her in the hospital and even if he tried Hunter would put him down.

Douglas shot a look at his wife's guard and them turned his eyes back to the beauty before him. He reached out towards his wife and grabbed her arm tightly, satisfied when he saw her wince in pain. He quickly pulled her after him out of the room, Savage closely following the couple with Hunter close behind him. Once far enough away from the waiting area that Douglas knew they wouldn't be heard he spun Francesca to face him. The sound of her shoes on the polished floor echoed through the sterile corridor, making the woman painfully aware of it's near deserted quality.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Douglas began in earnest. With each word it seemed as though his hold on her grew tighter. "What sort of mother are you? You leave your children alone so you can go and do who knows what with your precious slave!" Francesca opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a rough shake. Hunter moved to intervene but was held back by the other slave. Savage shook his head slowly and pulled the warrior further away from the couple.

"You really do think your a princess now, don't you? Seems I've given you everything you ever wanted. I gave you children, a home, a career, servants, slaves and now I've given you a new playmate! Now you can stop dreaming about that kid, I've given you a real live grownup to fantasise about!" The slap to the good side of his face was sudden and unexpected, sending him reeling for a moment. When he regained his senses his face was red, his temple throbbing.

"I'm sorry Douglas." She raised a hand to cover her lips. "I'm so sorry, your just worried about the children, I know you don't really mean it." Her eye's began to mist with tears as her voice broke.

"It's time you made some choices, Princess. I don't know who you are anymore. Do you?" With these hissed words he turned on his heel and headed out of the hospital.

**********

The shadowed figure smirked as the little drama unfolded before their very eyes. The raised voice of Douglas had drawn the watcher to the corridor and the scene that played out could have been choreographed by the warped mind. This was what the stalker had been hoping for. The fact that the house had been easier to get into had been a bonus.

Most of the family had been out when a maintenance person had arrived to fix the air-conditioning. With both Francesca and Douglas out of the house and accompanied by the children all of the slaves had been absent, leaving only the regular security in position. After a cursory search access into the house had been granted. The worker had been escorted by a guard and then left in the maintenance room with a guard on the door. Slipping out had proved simple, what with all the resent practice at the other premises.

Looking for the best place for the bomb had proved difficult with time constraints and the explosive had to be planted in the closest family room. That room happened to be the nursery, as good a place as any. The children would be in a prime location, and at least one parent would be in the blast. What more could be asked for. Quickly getting set up and back to the maintenance room the man on the door didn't suspect a thing and soon the terrorist was home free.

That had been two weeks ago, the watcher was nothing if not patient. The bomb had been a little more powerful than intended, it wasn't intended to destroy the wing, just the room. However, the results were more than pleasing. Three injuries and two deaths, granted not of family members, but it was sure to set the family reeling. There was also the minor detail of one child in surgery, still the chance for a fatality there. Slightly shuffling black boots seemed to alert the blue haired freak to a presence in the shadows. Time for a strategic withdrawal. Douglas had already left, he could be followed. With that the figure was gone.

*********

Terrance was asleep with his head cradled on her lap, his slim body stretched out on the bench. His soft snores filling the corridor with a sense of life that it was otherwise lacking. On her other side sat Rochel. Tucked under her mothers arm, with her head cushioned on her breasts she was as deeply asleep as her brother. Periodically a whimper would sound from one of the two children prompting Francesca to softly stroke the head of the child in question until it subsided.

Francesca was glad that they could sleep almost untroubled. She on the other hand was not able to shut down. Her mind kept running over the events of the day over and over again. It had started so well, she had been happy playing in the grass with Hunter and making pictures in the clouds. It had been like reliving her childhood. These had been the games she had played with her best friend and later on with her own children. Then it had all come crashing down on her.

The house was ruined. Her children were hurt and her husband hated her. Douglas had been right, she didn't know who she was anymore, she was so confused. Hunter was certainly influencing her whether it was a good or bad influence was yet to be seen. What would she do if Douglas left her? They had been married for ten years and she had no idea of what adult life was like without him. He had been a good man when they married, but something had changed when Terrance had come along and the twins had proved to be the last straw for him, apparently. She had been on the receiving end ever since.

She needed to relax, get some sleep. Rebecca had come out of surgery several hours ago and was now in ICU. The doctors said that she was stable and should make a full recovery. She had wanted the children to go home with her parents and sleep in their own beds, but they had refused to leave. They had both started to cry and held their mother as tightly as they possibly could. Darla assured her daughter that they'd be fine in the hospital and that she and Salvatore would be back first thing with a change of clothes and some breakfast. All was calm, yet she was still afraid. Douglas hadn't come back and at this time of night she knew that he wouldn't. He was probably being pampered by one of his 'friends' right now.

Trying to think happy thoughts and get to sleep she looked over at Hunter. The bodyguard had retreated back into herself and stood stoically against the wall. She looked like a tireless machine, scanning the empty hallways, alert for danger. Francesca tried to catch her eyes and when she did the sadness in their depths ran deep. The heiress offered her a reassuring smile in lieu of an apology, which the shorter woman accepted with a weary smile of her own.

She let her mind wander back to the morning. The other woman certainly held a lot of surprises. She had been so gentle when Francesca had fallen asleep, stroking her hair in the same way that Rhani had. In her dream Francesca had even heard herself called Chess by the other woman. Nobody knew that nickname but her family, and they never used it. Nobody had ever used it in front of Hunter.

"I could never do that."

Rhani had never been able to catch the fish in the water, she'd always been put off by the refraction in the water. The fish would be a few millimetres away from where she would strike. Hunter was blond, the roots of her hair showing through the dye. Hunter had seen 'Star Wars'. How could somebody born into slavery have seen any movies?

Hunter knew how to play Chess and Rhani's games. Hunter knew things that slaves couldn't know. Francesca studied Hunter's face more closely than she ever had before, looking beyond the scars and the contact lenses. Hunters attention was elsewhere so she was free to do this. The pert nose and round cheeks made the face look young, the defiant chin giving voice to her true nature. The face was familiar. The face was nineteen years older, but it was her, Francesca had been too blind to see it.

Hunter was Rhani!

Rhani was alive!

Even Rhani had betrayed her...



CHAPTER TWELVE



"Darla, honey, why are you sitting out here?" Salvatore leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek as he lowered himself into the swing beside her.

"I'm so worried about her." The slight woman sighed and laid her head against her husbands broad shoulder.

"I know." He kissed the top of her head as he drew her closer. "When they moved in I couldn't believe how depressed she seemed. I know that all of the phone calls and the threats have been dragging her down, but she seemed happy, for a while. Was I just imagining that." He locked his eyes with his wife.

"No, Sal, I saw it too."

"Maybe I should talk to Douglas." At these words Darla shot up and turned stunned eyes on her partner. "Or not."

"You can't be serious, Sal. Our daughters marriage is falling apart right in front of you and you want to talk to Douglas?" She was incredulous.

"Look, I know that they don't sleep together, but lots of couples do that. Douglas loves the children..." He was cut of by an icy glare from his wife.

"You think that's enough for your Princess, a loveless marriage just as long as he loves the children?"

"Who said it was loveless?"

"Our daughters on the verge of a nervous breakdown at the very least and you can ask that?"

"Don't even think that I don't love my little girl." His anger was rising.

"That's not what I mean and you know it!"

"Good, because I try to protect her. I love her and I give her everything she needs. What have you done for this situation?"

"That's the problem! You buy her things, you surround her with protection, you do what you think she needs. You smother her, you always did, but I don't think that's what she needs from you anymore. I listen to her, Sal. You need to talk to her more, I try to help her with her problems."

"Such as?" The man's eyes were cool.

"Sal, sweetheart, don't get defensive. I don't really think we need this side of the house to explode along with your head. We only have so much money." The attempt at levity was tempered by it's serious implication. Two sets of eye's scanned towards the ruins of their home. Even in his agitated state, Salvatore pulled Darla close to him and held her tight, keeping her safe in his arms.

"We should have done something, shouldn't we?"

"Like what? She's a grown woman. Short of finding him beating her...which is unlikely."

"Yeah, he's not that sort of boy, thank god."

"She's only ever done what she wants to do. We just need to stand behind whatever she decides." Darla looked at her husband. "We need to watch her now, I think that she is tipping over the edge. I don't think that she and Doug have talked at all in the last week, not even when Becca came home yesterday." She took a deep breath and looked wearily towards Salvatore. "Lets go to bed." She took his hand and led him through the balcony doors.

"Thank God we only had one daughter," breathed the tall man as he pulled the French-style doors closed behind him.

**********

SMACK.

Darla heard the sound of a hand impacting flesh and hurried towards it. What she found, round the bend in the hallway, left her motionless. In front of her stood a clearly furious Francesca glaring at her slave. Hunter's face clearly showed a mixture of sorrow and disgust, directed at who the older woman could not be certain. What she could be certain of was the growing redness on the slaves cheek caused by the slap. As her daughter began to tremble, Darla stepped into the fray.

"Hunter, please leave." As the slave was about to interject she was silenced by a shushing motion. "I know your duty is to protect my daughter, but I think she will be quite safe with her father and myself. Go and watch over the children. I don't doubt that either Wolf or Phoenix could use a break and the children would like to see you." Hunter looked chastened and turned away. She was almost out of earshot before Darla called out, "Get some ice for your face." The blue head bowed further as she trudged away.

Darla spun towards her daughter who seemed to have regained some composure. To a casual observer she seemed to be in control of her emotions, but her mother could see straight through her facade. Of all her children, Francesca was most like her father and Darla could read him like a book. Without a word she reached for her child's larger hand and lead her towards her father's study. When the younger woman turned pleading eyes on her petite mother all she received was a glare in response. Letting out a noisy breath she allowed herself to be lead.

Francesca's mind was still in too much turmoil for her to put up any resist against her mother. She let herself be towed like a wayward child as she tried to come to terms with what had happened only moments before. She had hoped for answers from the warrior, but her own temper had flared. Now, walking behind her mother, it looked like those answers were very far away.

**********

Hunter found herself in the stables with an icepack pressed against her reddened cheek. She wasn't entirely sure how she got there, a thought that shook her to the core. She was aware of her surroundings at all times, it was part of her training, of who she was. How could she so totally lose focus? God, this was hardly a life threatening injury, and she had definitely had worse but nothing had affected her like this.

She rested her elbow on the table and propped her head against it, her mind going over the other woman's words. How had Francesca figured it out? She had been so careful to keep her distance, not wanting to get too close. She never got close, it put people in danger and just made her more vulnerable. She had learnt her lesson after they used Jordan's life against her. The other slaves weren't really her friends, they were her brothers in arms. The only one she trusted and thought of as something close to a friend was Shep and only because he could almost best her in combat.

She ran her hand through her hair and let out a weary sigh. Everything would change now, Francesca's respect and trust had certainly been lost. Back to being treated like an animal, at best, at worst she was probably looking at being sold on. Back to a life that she had thought she enjoyed. A life filled with pain and destruction, the give and take of violence.

"What have I become?" She whispered to the emptiness. "I'm afraid of going back! They've ruined me, just like before!" Her hand tightened on the cold bag before she threw it across the room. As it impacted the wall shards of ice flew out as the bag split.

She pushed herself up from the table and turned to the door, surveying the mess she had made on the way. A wry smile spread across her face, that just about summed up her day.

*********

"It wasn't what it looked like." Francesca's tone was pleading.

"I should bloody well hope not!" Darla wanted answers.

"Excuse me, ladies, but could you fill me in?" Salvatore sat behind his desk looking at the two women opposite. He was a picture of confusion.

Darla turned to her husband. "I found our daughter outside her room, hitting Hunter."

"Excuse me?" Salvatore was incredulous.

"Papa, it wasn't like that. Mama, please sit down and I'll try to explain what you saw." The young woman held back a sob. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Her parents exchanged a glance, thinking back to their conversation only days before on the balcony. Salvatore locked eyes with his youngest child and could see the depth of sorrow in them. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she turned her face away, studying the carpet.

"Just tell us the truth, Princess."

"I've never lied to you," it was almost a whisper. "Can you say the same."

The couple looked startled. "I think you better tell us exactly what's going on."

**********

"What's going on, Hunter?" Wolf was looking intently at the other warrior. He had noticed her reddened cheek almost immediately but had waited for the children to go to dinner with Morgan before confronting her.

"What do you think of the name Rhani?" Was the reply he received. He watched as his companion reclined on the floor.

"It's nice, pretty. What has that got to do with your face?" The sound of his deep voice hung in the air for several heartbeats before the woman answered.

"That was my name once, Rhani Campbell. I was born free and raised right here, in this very house." She turned to survey the impact of her words on the other slave, smiling wearily as she noted his slack jaw. "Francesca, it seems, has worked out my identity. She seemed a little pissed." She rubbed her cheek self consciously.

"Why didn't you tell her who you were? Surely they would have set you free. Hell, why didn't you tell me?" He didn't know whether to be angry or just hurt at the revelation.

"I can't ever be that child again, Shep. I didn't want to care, I've done that and it broke me." She suddenly let out a bitter laugh. "Why do you think they'd set me free? They let my father sell me when I was five! I stayed living here till I was nine years old, all that time I would be sent off to be trained. Why would they give a shit who I was now?"

"I really can't know everything about you, can I?"

"Nope."

"Tell me something, did Jordan know?"

"Of course. She knew it all, I told her everything."

"I think you need to talk to your owner. Before you go mad, just listen. The two of you have got over a rocky start and you were hitting it off. Maybe the distance was a part of your plans not to get involved, but it's too late for that now. The children like you and they need their mother to be stable. Fighting with you and doing whatever she is with the master is not doing that." Hunter still looked defiant. "Look you don't have to explain the story of your life, just your reason for hiding the truth. Tell her what you told me."

The short woman let out a gusty sigh and collapsed completely onto her back. "Fine, When Morgan gets back I'll go and face the music."

Still waters certainly do run deep, thought Wolf smiling at the old cliche, as Hunter stared at the ceiling.

**********

"You never really told me what happened to Rhani, did you? I mean, you said that she'd gone away and wasn't coming back, but I thought that was a euphemism. I thought that meant that she was dead! It was what you told me when my kitten died, for God's sake!"

With their daughter becoming so agitated in front of them, Darla felt pity wash through her. She knew she shouldn't have been so harsh earlier, but she detested violence. To see her daughter abusing another living creature had shaken her badly. "Sweetheart, what are you talking about? What has Rhani got to do with Hunter?"

"You lied to me! All of you lied to me, you and Papa, the boys, Rhani's parents. Why didn't you tell me!" At the puzzled looks form her parents Francesca took in a gulping breath. "Hunter is Rhani!"

"What?" Both parents sad in unison.

"What happened? Was she snatched?"

"Now listen here young lady, we had no idea she was alive. Mark told us that he was having her trained to use computers, that's where she went al the time. One day she didn't come back and Mark told us there had been a car accident. Why shouldn't we believe him? He and Liz had worked here for years, we raised you girls together. You know how the big computer corps are, recruiting children to learn how to interface with the AI's. Rhani was so bright we never had a reason to doubt." Salvatore looked appalled. "How do you know it's her anyway? You haven't seen her nineteen years!"

"I figured it out from things she said. I confronted her and she admitted it!" Francesca was trembling again.

Darla looked at her husband and he nodded for her to take the lead. She stood up from her chair and knelt in front of the dark woman. She took her little girl's trembling hands and pulled her forward, bringing her into a warm hug. Francesca let her head rest on her mothers shoulder as she tried not to cry.

"I think we should find Hunter and find out what is going on."

**********

"Why did you lie to me?"

Hunter found herself alone in Salvatore's study with her owner. She could see the stress etched on the face of the other woman as she threw out her accusation. Having not been in this position before Hunter was unsure how to react. All she could be sure of was anger would only make things worse. She took a deep breath, ready to attempt an explanation. She hoped that this would prevent her from being sold on, as much as she hated to admit it, she liked it here.

"I didn't lie to you. I haven't been Rhani for almost twenty years. I wasn't trying to hurt you, but I didn't want to be hurt either. I keep my distance from everybody."

"But you were my best friend!" The pleading in the other woman's voice was clear. "Everybody is trying to control me, even you!"

"I don't know what you want me to say!" Hunter felt like she was drowning.

"You hold all the cards, can't you see that? You have power over me!" The dark woman's voice was rising.

"WHAT! How can I possibly have power over you! I'm a slave!" The warrior's anger was starting to flare.

"You know everything about me. About my entire childhood and the space in between, I know you read the magazines!"

Something clicked for Hunter. "You want to know where I used to go when we were children, don't you?"

Francesca nodded wordlessly.

"I need to know one thing first...Did your parents know what was happening to me?" She held her breath in anticipation.

"No, they really didn't."

"Alright. Um...When I was five dad needed money so he sold me to a slaver. I guess he knew that I couldn't just vanish, you'd be too upset, so he made a bargain with the buyer. Dad could keep me here but I had to be trained offsite until I was ten. You'd be old enough to not care if I disappeared. The first time they took me away..."

**********

"...I think I should leave now. I'll just be outside now."

The large wooden door closed softly leaving Francesca in total silence. She hadn't looked up as the other woman left, still caught up in the warriors story. In two hours Hunter had laid bare her childhood and it didn't match her own. Francesca remembered a time of fun and total happiness, Hunter remembered pain and brutality. She talked of dance lessons followed by beatings, rape and gymnastic practice going hand in hand. She had been taught to be a concubine, a seducer with trips home as her reward. It seemed that the young Chess had been her reason to be good, to take it.

Francesca raised her head to look at the closed door, picturing the woman behind it. Silent tears tracked down her face while she considered how much she still didn't know. The years being a gladiator and the killing of one of her owners all lay after that violent infancy. She suddenly needed to comfort the other woman in some way. She wiped her eyes and made her way to the door.

Before she was halfway across the room the door burst open, admitting a smirking Douglas. She stood in front of him, totally stunned. Why hadn't Hunter stopped him coming in? She couldn't handle a confrontation right now. She tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her to him.

"What, no hello?" He leered at her and crushed his mouth down on hers. She struggled to free herself, but Douglas just held her arms tighter.

"Listen to me Princess, I've decided that I want more control over our money. I should be able to protect the children, you obviously can't, so I need access to everything. I also think you should step back with your record label, let me resume my role."

"Doug, please let me go!" She could see the intent in his eyes. "We talked about this, you said you didn't mind me working with the record label." She was too tired for this.

Douglas wasn't in the mood to be disobeyed. "Maybe your forgetting who abandoned the children when the house exploded? Don't you feel any remorse!" He knew it was a low blow and he relished the wince of pain on face.

"You can't blame me for that..." The slap to her face whipped her head back.

As Douglas drew his hand back for another blow the door flew open, admitting Salvatore. He had been talking to Hunter around the corner, apologising for what her father had done. They had been on their way back to the study when he had heard the struggle from within. The sight of his daughter being restrained by Douglas, his hand raised to her brought out his rage.

"Get out of my house! Nobody touches my daughter." Douglas opened his mouth to respond but was stopped when he felt a powerful hand on his neck. "Get rid of him Hunter!"

Hunter nodded and dragged the tall man out of the room. Salvatore rushed to his child's side, rapping his arms around her as she collapsed, sobbing. He cooed soft words to her, stroking her hair. He wanted answers, but he could wait. He could do anything for her.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN



Damn that fuckin' bitch!, fumed Douglas, slamming down the phone. How dare she refuse to talk to me! I have as much right to see my children as she does...Hell, I have more! I'm not having a nervous breakdown, I was there for them while she was out with that whoring slave! It had been three days since Salvatore had him thrown out of the house. In that time all of his phone calls had been refused and any attempt to visit his children had been denied.

He picked up his glass of scotch, taking a large gulp, before placing it back on the coffee table. He caste his eye's around the living room, noting once again the subtle changes made by the cleaning ladies. It had been months since he had shared this apartment with his family and he realised that without the children it was a cold and sterile place. He angrily shook his head, it was not the time to dwell on what had been. If Francesca wanted a fight, he was going to win.

Douglas stood and paced towards the calendar on the wall, tapping the boldly written date with a thick finger. In two days he would be seeing his lawyer and then the Prince family wouldn't know what hit them. He was confident that if Francesca persisted with this foolishness he would win the case. He was stable, caring and they had no proof that he had ever laid a hand on her before. Of course, he would rather retain Francesca as well, having a beautiful, talented woman on his arm gave him a certain kudos among his peers that was hard to buy.

The sudden knocking drew him to the front door. Having been left with no bodyguard when he was thrown out, Salvatore had confiscated both Savage and Snake, Doug had to be cautious. He turned on the surveillance camera located above the door and assessed his visitor. Since a glut of shootings a couple of years ago, peepholes had been quickly phased out; it was too easy to shoot the homeowner through the door. Running a cursory eye over the beaming face outside, he opened the door.

"I didn't expect you today." His voice was rough from the alcohol.

"I thought you could use a little company." An elegant hand lifted up a bottle of Champaign.

"What the hell have I got to celebrate?" His brief good mood was beginning to sour.

"You're going to be free very soon." The tall, lean woman purred as she walked over to the couch.

Douglas looked at her, lounging on the plush leather. She was like an animal, all passion and fire. He had met her almost a year ago, she was so different from his wife. This woman was strong, resourceful, sexual and she really turned him on. She didn't cry when he smacked her a little, she relished it, begged him for it. She liked it rough, this was the woman that he needed. She was a hooker, but she looked good. With enough money he could make her a princess. Not quite the prize that his wife was, but owning her, possessing her would never be dull.

A loud pop drew his attention back to her as foam spilled over her hand. She extended her velvet tongue and licked it off her fingers. A huge grin spread across his sullen face.

"You gonna' share?"

**********

Hunter stood in the garden, holding Rebecca in her arms. The little girl sat perched on her hip with her arms rapped tightly around the warriors neck. The pair silently watched the antics of the other two children as they ran through the grounds being chased by their mother. Becca was still too weak to run around, but she didn't mind, she liked to be with Hunter.

Rebecca rested her head on the muscular shoulder and watched her mummy play. She looked so happy that the little girl was glad that her daddy had gone away. In her short life she had never seen her mother smile like she had in the last three days and she liked it. Not that she didn't love her daddy, he played with her, read her stories and carried her, but Hunter could do that stuff. She didn't really need daddy while she had Hunter.

Thinking about the slave whose arms she was wrapped in the child's thoughts naturally turned to her two friends, Polar and Grizzly. Mummy had explained that the two men had been hurt really badly in the accident and that they hadn't got better. Rebecca could still feel the pain of her injuries, so she knew that they must have been hurt a lot. She didn't really understand what dead meant, but she knew that they weren't coming back and that she would probably be really old before she saw them again.

She was starting to get tired from being out in the fresh air. She snuggled closer to Hunter who tightened her embrace so that she wouldn't fall. The child couldn't really understand why her mummy was acting differently around Hunter since daddy left. First of all mummy had hated the blue haired slave, then she liked her a lot and now mummy was really cautious around her. She had even called her a weird name a couple of times, but Hunter didn't seem to like that at all. Adults were way too complicated.

"Feeling tired Tiny?" Cooed the warrior.

"I am not tiny." A yawn split her cherubic face.

"But you are tired. Lets go tell your mum." Rebecca could feel the rhythm of Hunters steps as she walked to the laughing group.

" 'kay." The sleepy response trailed off as she fell asleep. Hunter's hair isn't blue anymore, was her last though before dreamland.

**********

Douglas laid on his back, satiated and completely oblivious. He was floating somewhere between asleep and awake, feeling like a million dollars. He felt like a God who had been thoroughly worshipped by a very skilled acolyte. He allowed himself to be further lulled by the sounds of her soft breathing as she slept beside him. He pulled the covers closer to his chin and drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The lithe body turned and studied the peacefully sleeping man. A smirk spread across the angelic face as she allowed her eyes to focus in the dim light of the bedroom. It looked different when somebody was living here, it was something she had noticed on her previous visits. When the whole family were living in the apartment it was filled with energy, an almost hyperactive aura hung over the place. Douglas lent the place an air of lethargy and casual aggression. When empty the place held an almost ethereal calm.

She rose slowly, careful not to disturb his sleeping form. She stood beside the bed and stretched languidly, idly noting the popping as her spin realigned itself. She paced softly to his side of the bed, noting the heavy wooden bat that he kept there for his own protection. Moving beyond him she picked up her bag and headed into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

Flicking on the light she had to squint so as not to be blinded by the brightness, once she was comfortable she set to work. Pulling out a pair of latex gloves and slipping them on she was ready to pull on a black cat suite, shoes and a hood. She meticulously made sure that no hairs escaped from the hood. Settling the rest of her belongings in the bag she hefted it and walked into the lounge. Scooping up the Champaign bottle and glasses she threw them in with her clothes. Brushing off any hair on the sofa, using adhesive tape, she straightened up and moved to the next room.

Once more in the bedroom she lent over her side of the bed. Once again she removed any hair fibres, also removing as much skin debris as was possible. She straightened the sheets and smoothed the pillow. There was no evidence that she had ever been in the house, let alone in the bed. Now she was finally ready.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling the prone form. Letting her weight rest totally on his stomach. Douglas awoke with a whoosh as all of the air left his lungs with the sudden impact. For a moment he thought he was dreaming until his eye's focused on the dark figure looming over him. He frantically looked around for his bed-mate, worried for her safety when he couldn't see her. He was ready to lung for his assailant when he saw the hooded head shake in censure.

A hand reached over him and came back holding his bat. All of this had happened in moment, leaving him too stunned and bewildered to realise that he should call for help. By the time that his brain caught up with his heart it was too late. He opened his mouth to scream when the bat came down heavily across his skull, breaking his jaw and turning any he scream into a gurgle.

The first blow disabled the man below her, leaving him gasping through the bloody pulp of his mouth and nose. His eyes looked at her pleadingly, his fear palpable in the quite room. The only sound was his breathing and the rustle of the sheets beneath them. Once again she hefted the bat high above her own head before bringing it down with crushing force against his temple, again and again until with a satisfying crunch his skull shattered. In the dim light she could make out the grey matter as it oozed out of his head. He was still breathing shallowly, his body writhing spastically. With one final blow his head totally caved, his body stilling. The room became utterly silent.

Replacing the bat where she had found it, leaning against the wall, she stood carefully. Padding across the floor, avoiding the patches of blood and gore near the bed she moved to her gear. Moving once again to the bathroom she stripped of the black clothing and bundled them into a plastic bag, sealing it before replacing it in her pack. Quickly showering, using a fresh pair of latex gloves, she dressed in the clothes she had arrived in. She skill fully cleaned the shower, then with high heeled shoes in hand she walked to the door. Using the door camera she scanned the empty hallway before slipping out and disappearing back into the night.

**********

"Thank you." It was said quietly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that hung between them.

"For what?" Francesca turned to look at her companion.

"Um... For letting Shep, I mean Wolf and Phoenix spend the evening together. They were really shaken up about the twins dieing. What with Snake and Savage guarding the house they were starting to snipe at each other a little."

"It's hardly a chore Hunter, I love my children and sitting on a soft couch outside their room is a pleasure."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. The two women were still uncomfortable around each other. Hunter's revelation still hung between them and there was still so much that Francesca wanted to ask, but was too afraid to alienate her old friend. When her father found out about Douglas he had been furious. His anger had been focused at the other man, but had almost seeped over at his family. He felt powerless and Francesca could see why. Hunter had stepped into the maelstrom, explaining what she knew to Salvatore and taking the abuse he threw at her. He was angry that nobody had told him about it and Hunter was a scapegoat. Francesca had only allowed that to last a day before she started to open up to her father.

She wanted to have a conversation. "So, Wolf's name is Shep?"

"Actually, it's Mathew and Phoenix is Megan. Savage never lets on about his real name, like me I guess. We don't know why. Snake used to be called Colt, but that was another stage name. He was never given a real name." Hunter had turned on the couch to face the other woman.

"I don't really understand, weren't Wolf and Phoenix born into slavery?"

"Sometimes the breeders allow the infants to be named by their parents. They then give the baby the company name as a last name. Wolf is Mathew Shepherd, Shepherd Haulers Ltd."

"Oh." A pregnant pause. "What were the twins called?" The guilt was clear in her voice.

"They never had a different name. I think they were named after their father. He was called The Bear, made them look small. I saw him fight once, it was all raw power. He got killed about eight years ago." Even as she spoke she could see the questions swimming in the other woman's eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Hay, I'm yours."

"Funny. You don't have to answer this, okay?" On receiving a nod she continued. "I read the literature about you and it said you killed one of your owners, is it true?"

Knowing that a simple yes or no wouldn't be enough Hunter took a deep breath. "Until I was eleven I was a sex slave. All the times that I came back here covered in bruises, they were from servicing men...Well, some of them were from punishment, but mainly they were gained in service. I was used to it, I'd probably still be doing it now, but one day a customer came to the club that my master owned and started to assault one of the maids. She was my friend, so when I saw what was going on I knew I had to help her. I grabbed the handle from a broom she'd been using and hit him in the head as hard as I could. I must have caught a soft spot because I knocked him out cold. Unfortunately I was seeing red and dived on his unconscious body and strangled the guy. He died."

"What happened to the girl?" Francesca was pretty sure who the maid was, but needed conformation.

"They were going to have me exterminated, killing the free is a big 'no-no'. Jordan, the maid, told them what had happened, but that didn't save me. It was the fact that I had killed him with my bare hands that kept me alive. My master sent me to a gladiator stable so I could still make him money. He knew I was friends with Jordan, so to keep me sweet he let her visit me and made no reprisal against her."

"What happened to her? If she was free, why did she still work in a place like that? You told me about a girl called Jordan the last time you came home, you said she was four years older. Why was she working?" The questions flew out of her mouth before she could censor them.

"Her mum was a maid, she would come and help her out when she wasn't at school. Mainly the guests left the free girls alone, they were mainly too old for their tastes anyway. Her family had been working for my master for years, that's why they stuck around." She had to look away from the other woman, letting her eyes drift down to her hands in her lap. "She was my lover, after a while. We loved each other a lot, so even when she could get another job she stayed to be with me. I started a bit of a revolt when I was sixteen. I was idealistic and thought we should be free, it scared the establishment. They tortured me a lot but I just kept on going. I should have stopped, I wish I had every day. They killed her to teach me a lesson. They showed me her mangled body a couple of days after they told me. There was no doubt it was her."

Francesca found herself once again stunned by the tragedy of the other woman's life. I must not cry reverberated through her mind, she knew that Hunter would not appreciate it. "Is that why you didn't want me to know who you were?"

A bark of mirthless laughter. "That's why I stopped caring."

"Mama, I need a glass of water!" The sound of Terrance's voice stopped any response Francesca may have made. She looked sheepishly at her companion before she went to fulfil her son's demand.

As she passed through the door to the temporary nursery, she heard Hunter whisper. "Damn you and your kids for making me start again." Francesca had to stifle a sob on hearing those words. She quickly moved towards her little boy, who seemed to have gone back to sleep.

**********

Sabina let herself into the apartment at ten. She came every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to clean up Mr Rose's home. Considering he had only been home for a few days he had managed to mess up the place quite well. This was only the second time that she had cleaned since he had arrived on Sunday and to her amazement the place looked rather tidy. Knowing that Mr Rose rarely made his own bed she made her way to his room first, ready to start her routine.

Lifting her cleaning supplies in her left hand she reached out with her right to open the door. She pushed it open and headed in. Her forward momentum was halted as she looked at the bed and the carnage that lay around it. There lay Mr Rose, or what she thought was Mr Rose, in a pool of his own blood. The bed was saturated, gore from the head had oozed onto the pillow and the carpet.

Sabina stood transfixed by the horror until her stomach rebelled and she found herself on the floor retching onto the carpet. Once she finished vomiting she ran from the room with the taste of bile fresh in her mouth. The frantic woman rushed to the phone, knocking over a flowerpot in her haste. She dialled the emergency number and waited impatiently.

"This is emergency, which service do you require?" The operators voice was bland and emotionless.

In speech almost too rapid to be understood the cleaning lady relayed what she had found. At once a squad car was dispatched to the scene. Poor Sabina would have to stay with the body until the authorities arrived. The receiver hit the floor with a thud as the young woman feinted.




CHAPTER FOURTEEN



She sat with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Occasionally she would look out at the water while brushing a stray tear from her cheek. She couldn't stay in the house, it felt too small and the walls were pushing in on her. She knew she should stay for her children, they were scared and crying for a daddy who would never come home. She had calmed them down and put them to bed, but could not watch over them. Her mother seemed to understand and patted her daughters shoulder as she left the room.

She had run from the house to this place, her sanctuary. She knew that it was foolish to leave the house alone, but she couldn't stay. In her shocked state she managed to rationalise her recklessness, the police were crawling all over the estate so she wasn't in danger. It wasn't true, she knew it, the stalker could be anywhere, be anyone yet she had ceased to care. Life wasn't supposed to be this way.

When she was young she had wanted a life like her parents shared. She thought that she had found that with Douglas. When they met she had still been an impressionable teenager and he seemed like a prince charming to match her princess. He was intelligent and funny, he engaged her in a way that nobody had since she was a child. He seemed perfect, so when he asked her to marry him she had jumped at the chance. They had three beautiful children, just like her parents so why weren't they happy? She hadn't worked that out until the threats started coming and now he was dead.

A throat cleared somewhere behind her and she instantly knew that it was Hunter. She felt the fear in the pit of her stomach loosen it's hold on her at the sound. Her protector was here, she would be alright. She didn't turn to the other woman, but remained staring at the calm water.

"Um...I have no idea what to do, but can I sit down?" Hunter seemed hesitant and shy, not something the singer associated with her. Francesca patted the ground beside her and Hunter lowered herself to a cross legged position.

Hunter studied the other woman's profile. She couldn't help but be in awe of the face so close to her own. Francesca was an incredibly gorgeous woman and Hunter was only human. Silently she traced the contours of her cheeks, the dip of her nose, the strong chin that was quivering as her eyes passed over it. Tears slipped slowly over those cheeks leaving their sorrowful trail.

"You really loved him?" It just sort of slipped out before Hunter could stop herself.

Francesca nodded without turning her head. Hunters face screwed up in consternation. How could this rich, successful woman actually love a man who beat her? The thought was totally incomprehensible to her. The idea of the other woman having such strong feelings for the man also troubled her and she couldn't understand why.

"Look I know that it's out of line, but I have to ask this. Why?"

Francesca looked at her for the first time, her eye's bleak. "Why what?"

"Why did you love him, after what he did to you?"

"You're right, you don't understand. He was so kind and loving when we met that I fell in love with him. He was a great husband until the twins came. I had depression and he just drifted away from me. It was really my fault."

"How can you say that? If he loved you he would have supported you, not hit you!"

"He only did it when he was frustrated. I know he loved me!"

"Well that's alright then!" The sarcasm oozed from her words.

Francesca wanted to lash out at the body beside her. How could she talk about Douglas like this? The man was dead! He had been a good husband and father. She looked at her childhood friend and realised, for the first time that they would never again be the friends that they had been in their youth. Their lives were too different.

"What do you know about love anyway?" She wanted to take the words back as she saw the total agony pass over Hunter's face.

"I know what love is. Love is looking into someone's eyes and seeing your whole future there. It's pain and sacrifice and joy. It's your entire world coming to an end when they're gone...Is that how you feel? Will your world never be the same?" It was the slaves turn to focus on the water.

Francesca thought hard about what the other woman said. Would her world be irrevocably shattered by his absence? She found herself coming to the same conclusion again and again, she would go on. Already she was contemplating her next relationship, whether she would find somebody else and have more children. She found that she could not understand the depth of the other woman's pain even though
she herself was the recently bereaved.

"Is that how you felt about..." For some reason she couldn't bring herself to save the name.

"Jordan? Yeah, I mean we were really young, but you grow up fast when you have to. I haven't felt like a child since I lived here. She used to look at me with this look of devotion on her face that I knew was reflected on mine." Suddenly realising who she was talking to and what she was saying Hunter clamed up. This did not go unnoticed by the brunette.

Francesca realised how hard this was for her companion. She was strong and stoic, forced into herself by circumstances. She suddenly felt very small and scared sitting with such a strong woman. She wanted to be comforted, but she also wanted to comfort. She hesitantly moved closer to the muscular body and rapped her arm around the strong shoulders. Hunter tensed, her body turning to stone. Nobody touched her, she was not a thing, but this was Chess. As much as she had told the other women that they were not the same, that she did not care for her in that way now, they would always have their time in this place. Francesca needed a shoulder to cry on, she could be that. She wished she'd had one.

Francesca felt the tension ease from the other body and stopped herself form pulling away. As she felt Hunter relax she leaned into her warm body and rested her head on a broad shoulder. Instantly a wave of peace flowed over her, Douglas' death and the threats to her life seemed very far away. She felt herself begin to drift in this safe haven. She gave into the tranquil feelings and began to doze.

*********

Hunter heard the police before they reached the clearing. Not wanting the other woman to be embarrassed by their intimate position she gently shook her awake. Francesca came to with a start, pulling quickly away from the slave and wrapping her arms around herself. Hunter tried to explain but was silenced when three police officers crashed out of the tree line.

"Mrs Rose?" The first uniformed officer said, looking at the singer.

"Yes?"

"Mrs Rose, you need to come to the station and make a statement. We have a car waiting." He ushered the woman towards him.

Francesca stood and walked towards the uniformed men. Hunter made a move towards her mistress and found herself held back by the youngest if the three cops. Francesca noticed this and motioned with her eyes for Hunter to stay calm. She turned her attention to the officer standing beside her.

"You don't have to restrain her, she'd my bodyguard."

"We know that, ma'am. Your slave also needs to come for questioning." His voice was cool and distant. "We really need to go." He turned and strode into the foliage. Francesca followed at a more sedate pace.

Behind the two retreating figures Hunter found herself forcefully pushed forward by one of the two young me. As she put out her hands to stop her forward motion she found herself grabbed by the shoulders. With an officer on each side she was yanked off of her feet and roughly hauled in the same direction as Francesca who had disappeared out of sight many minutes before. Allowing her body to go limp in their grasp she gave in to the humiliation of being man handled.

With the decline in racism in capitalist countries and the recognition of gay marriage, people's prejudices had become focused in new directions. The ever growing slavery market had produced an underclass who could be treated badly with no recourse. Slaves had become the whipping boys of the world, they could be blamed for negligent actions and beating them was no crime. The worst offenders were not those who owned slaves, they had made an investment. Those who could not afford slaves, the common man, took out their resentment on other peoples property.

The two young officers would never make enough money to live like the Prince family. In ten lifetimes they wouldn't make enough money to own seven slaves. It was human nature. Therefore Hunter was not surprised when she was thrown to the floor just inside the tree line and kicked repeatedly in the ribs. She didn't cry out, this was a pain she was familiar with.

"I saw this one in action once at the arena, not just on TV, it was amazing! Wait till I tell the guys that I got to fight her!" The red haired man looked like he'd just won the lottery.

"This is hardly fighting, Nick." Even as he said it the dark haired man kept a lookout.

"Yeah, well as I see it, she panicked and resisted us and we had to 'subdue' her." He looked speculatively at his partner.

"Whatever, you've had your fun. We better get her to the car otherwise they'll come looking for us." They once again picked her up of the floor and dragged her along. They began to talk over her head, acting as if she wasn't there. "I heard that she used to be a pleasure slave."

"Nah, look at her! She's built like a tank."

"She is cute though, Nick."

The other man's response was cut short as they came within view of the house and the many milling police officers. They quickly moved towards the police car, waiting on the gravel driveway. Nick yanked open the door and the two men all but threw the limp body into the seat. Before she was even settled the door was slammed behind her, leaving her in the car with Francesca.

"That took a while?"

"They were fans." It was gritted out between clenched teeth.

"I know about that."

The drivers door was suddenly opened and a uniformed figure positioned them self behind the wheel. With a look in the rear view mirror to check the passengers, the cop turned on the ignition and put the car into gear. With a wave to one of the surrounding officers they were off. Once they were on their way the cop activated the privacy-style screen which separated the officer from any criminal in the rear. This allowed Francesca the privacy to compose herself. Deep in her own thoughts, the singer did not see her partners pain.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN



Hunter had felt pain before, had been bathed in it. She had been beaten for as long as she could remember and had learned how to block it out, but this time it was different. In the back of the cruiser the pain washed over her, not the physical pain of broken ribs and bruised wrists, this was the psychological pain of hatred. Since Jordan, she had not been human, the injustices upon her ignored as unimportant. The Prince's had changed that. She was learning how to be a person again, still owned, but an individual in her own right. She had felt the same when Francesca had slapped her, only this was magnified ten times because it was fuelled not by grief, but by blind hatred.

In her turmoil the warrior tilted her head back, feel white hot pain seer through her skull at this action. She let out a hiss of pain, God damn sons of bitches musta hit me in the head. The sound of the other woman's pain made Francesca snap out of her own revelry, locking blue eyes on her companion.

"Hunter, what happened back there?" She had been mulling over the other woman's words since the car set out and could no longer hold back her curiosity.

"I think I got a concussion." At least that would explain her dour thoughts.

"What the hell did those officers do to you? I want a straight answer Hunter." She may not be totally comfortable with the shorter woman, but she still did not want to see her hurt.

"I told you, they were fans." At the glare she received from the brunette, the blond sighed and told Francesca about the beating she had received at the hands of the two young officers. "People need something to hate, that's us. I'm a famous face to most freemen, an easy target. Those boys were just doing what anybody else would have done under the circumstances. It's happened before." Involuntarily she looked away from her owner as she said this. A wave of sadness washed over Francesca as she realised she had done the same thing.

"You listen to me, that will never happen again. I promise. You will never know how sorry I am for hitting you, and if anybody does this again I will have them up on charges." Francesca was on a role. The whirlwind of emotions she had been feeling since she found out about Douglas' death in the early hours of the morning would not let her stop. "You have protected me and, more than that, you have become a comfort for me. I know I own you, but you didn't have to do that. Thank you." The last was said softly, almost reverently.

Hunter saw the truth in the other woman's eyes. Her own thoughts were fuzzy, her mind not providing her with any response to the other woman's sincerity. She simply allowed her keeper to look into her eye's and see the acceptance there. As she opened her mouth to speak, having finally found the words, the cruiser sped over a decidedly bumpy piece of road. The jarring thud sent another lance of pain through her head. Her words coming out as a whimper.

For the second time that day, Francesca found herself reaching out to the stoic slave, and putting her arm around her shoulders. The tensing of the smaller body was becoming almost familiar, but Francesca did not let go. Instead she drew closer to the fighter, knowing that eventually the rigour would melt away. She was right, and as the shorter woman relaxed the heiress guided her head to her shoulder, shielding her as best she could from the movement of the car.

Hunter wanted to fight, wanted to pull away from the comfort of the other woman. She shouldn't be taking comfort in the warmth of her body, the way she smelt, but it was no use. It had been so long since somebody had held her, had tried to give her comfort and sooth her pain, that she couldn't be bothered to fight. Melting completely into the embrace she allowed her guard to drop. The officer would protect Francesca, she almost let the pain lull her into sleep.

"Hay, none of that. You need to stay awake if this is concussion. Hay, do you remember my sixth birthday?" She knew that this, at least would be a happy memory.

"Yeah, the look on your fathers face when that pony crapped on his foot." A rueful smile lit up the tired face.

The two woman continued to talk about inconsequential things as the car sped onwards. They both needed to be distracted, one from the pain of death, the other from the pain of hatred. Neither of them noticed the eyes glaring at them from the rear-view mirror.

**********

The uniformed woman seated in the drivers seat could not keep her eyes away from the two passengers in the rear of the cruiser. She could not believe what she was seeing. How dare she touch her like that! Her eyes slitted further as she focused her glare solely on Francesca Prince. You will pay for what you have done to her.

Her eyes rested on Hunter, sagged in the chair beside her owner. What has she done to you? He eyes softened briefly as she drank in the sight of the smaller woman, before reluctantly turning her attention back to the road.

**********

Knowing something and feeling it are two completely different things, mused Hunter as she followed her ward down a crowded corridor. Intellectually, even in her headache clouded mind, she knew that the police precinct was the safest place for her to be. Yet her instincts screamed at her to get out of there. People were milling about everywhere, both cops and criminals, blocking their path as they moved through the dingy foyer. Too many people.

Francesca, once again, was oblivious to Hunters turmoil. She went with her head. Police equalled protection to the young woman, and with her warrior at her back, nothing could touch her here. She waked quickly up to the reception desk, wanting this chapter of her life to close as quickly as possible. She simply wanted to go home and console her children in the wake of this tragedy.

"Excuse me, Officer....Dent." She paused to read the paunchy mans name badge. He looked up from his paperwork, a bored expression on his face. "Um, I need to give a statement to Detective Reed? I'm Francesca Rose?"

The middle aged man looked the beautiful woman in front of him up and down. His son had pictures of her plastered all over his bedroom walls. Wonder if I can get an autograph? When his eyes travelled past her and landed on the scared and glowering face at his shoulder he turned his attention to his computer.

"Where is Officer Daniels?" At the puzzled look he received from the brunette he continued. "The officer who drove you in, young blond?"

"Oh, she stayed outside."

"That can't have been Daniels." He rapidly typed onto his keypad.

"Why?"

"Daniels is a... Hello Officer Daniels." A young man in his early twenties approached the desk, smiling. "I thought you were picking up Mrs Rose?" He nodded in her direction.

"No, she had already left in cruiser 412, I followed. Hello ma'am." The desk officer looked disturbed by this, but let it go for the moment.

"I'll have to report this to Detective Reed. Take these ladies up to interview rooms 2 and 9. Please followed the Officer." No autograph today.

The women shared a look, before Francesca broke into stride with the beaming young man. That he was one of the record buying public was obvious as he bounded around the star like an excited puppy. Hunter looked on, a rueful expression on her face. Another one's fallen for you, but whether she was thinking of the boy or herself she couldn't be sure.

**********

Interview room 2

Francesca sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair and waited for her lawyer to arrive. She knew that police interviews could not begin without counsel, but she hadn't anticipated him taking this ling. An hour had passed since she was ushered into this sterile room, and the rigours of the day were beginning to tell on her. She hoped that Carlos Holt, of 'Holt, Stand and Delmar Associates' would arrive soon.

For what felt like the hundredth time, but was probably only the tenth, she studied the few objects inside the room. Three blue chairs, identical to the one she sat on, surrounded a heavy metal table which was bolted to the floor. Two chairs on each side. The table held a state of the art voice recorder. The walls, floor and ceiling were all in matching grey. the room was designed to feel oppressive and it worked admirably well. On one grey wall perched a clock, ticking the time away.

I hope he gets here soon....

Interview room 9

"You were heard threatening the victim." Detective Reed locked brown eyes with unnatural blue.

The state appointed attorney that showed up to represent the slave was little more than a boy, barely out of law school. He was eager and earnest, but totally out of his depth. Hunter turned to him and saw the look of panicked confusion cross his smooth face, she could barely stop herself from rolling her eyes. Looks like I'm on my own, nothing new there. She gave the young man a reassuring nod and turned to the interrogating officer.

"I am Mrs Rose's bodyguard. I found Mr Rose hitting her one evening and stopped it. I simply let him know that his actions would not be tolerated in the future." Hunter could be as articulate as the next body slave. It was all part of the service.

Reed looked at the slave sitting across from him. In his youth he had watched his parents picket for slavery to be abolished. He shared their views, yet he could not share their conviction as a police officer. The cherubic faced woman sitting in front of him would be an easy scapegoat for the investigating if anybody else was running it. He smiled inwardly, glad that he had been in the right place at the right time. Everybody deserved to be given the benefit of the doubt. His inner thoughts did not show on his face, which remained an impassive mask.

"Where were you on the night of the murder?" He had to ask.

Hunter almost let out a bark of laughter at the ridiculous question. Almost.

Interview room 2

"You and your husband had recently separated, is that correct?"

"Yes." Francesca looked towards her Lawyer as she answered and received a reassuring nod. Reed noticed this and filed it away with the rest of his observations about this woman. There was something cagey about her answers, especially regarding her time with the bodyguard in room 9.

"Why did you and your husband separate?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Her face set, and a sense of panic washed through her. She didn't want to dredge up her marital problems in front of strangers, especially not now.

Reed slammed his hand onto the shiny surface of the table and stood abruptly. He was suddenly looming over the seated woman, his chair pushed far behind him, teetering to a standstill. He glared down at the rapidly paling woman.

"You don't seem to understand how this works Mrs Rose. Your husband has been murdered and we are trying to find the killer. You are a suspect and as such you are expected to answer my questions." His voice was low, menacing.

"Detective, I suggest you sit down. As I was led to understand, my client is not under arrest and as such does not have to be here. She has agreed to answer your questions, and has done so. This interview is over." Carlos locked eyes with the detective, daring him to keep them there.

"Interview terminated, index time." A soft hiss indicated that the recorder had logged the time and switched itself off. "You are free to go, but we will be in touch with you very soon. Don't leave the state." Reed stayed seated as he watched the shaken young woman be escorted from the room by the elderly Hispanic lawyer.

He began to tap the tip of his pen on his writing pad, examining the reactions of the woman who had just left more than the words. He pursed his lips, realising that she had gone from just nervous to tense, her answers had grown more and more guarded. This was a woman with something to hide.

FRANCESCA ROSE

The name was bold on the page, like a bloodstain. He stared at it for a few moments before circling it, his pencil snapping with force of his hand. He laid the pencil down, reaching for his phone and dialling a number.

"I want everything you have on Francesca Rose, personal and profession...Especially that....I want to know the tiniest detail about the separation, whether they were divorcing and why." He hung up before he could get an answer.

He turned his eyes back to the name on the page. It was always good to have a suspect in the frame.

**********


CHAPTER SIXTEEN



It was a suburban street, much like any other. Children, too young for school, played on manicured green in front of their whitewashed homes. Young men and women watched over their progeny, while others mowed a square of paradise. The idyllic scene was marred by one house, standing out darkly against the pristine white around it.

The white paint work had long since turned grey. Huge chunks of bare wood could be seen through the flaking veneer. Neglect showed in everything, the lawn was overgrown, trees hanging hunch shouldered over a rocky path. Weeds peeked out between paving, creating a treacherous journey to a scarred front door.

Light shone through the dirty windows, tracing a path through tattered blinds to hit the rooms within. The thin beads of light provided the only illumination in the bare room. Where a family should have sat and watched television, laughed and played, there was only dust. Through an open doorway the kitchen was visible. Dirty plates stacked to the ceiling, filth covered the floor and cockroaches could be seen scuttling away from the light.

In the basement a figure paced, bathed not in the light of day but in the fluorescence of a television screen. Weird shadows were cast as a moving body blocked the light from hitting the wall. The basement was as full of clutter as the rest of the house was empty. A beaten sofa sat before a huge television screen. A moth-eaten carpet lay across the floor, balding in places. Yet no art coloured the walls, nothing gave away the true personality of the owner.

With a loud sigh of frustration a lean body threw itself onto the beaten sofa, settling as the furniture creaked with the weight of her body. Her eyes skittered over the television screen, taking in and rejecting the information it displayed. Her gaze sped away and landed on the open door of the basement and the clothes that hung there. A pristine blue uniform was hooked there, almost gleaming in the dull light.

"How could she act like that?" The voice was eerily loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Maybe they're friends?

"How could they be friends after what that witch and her family have done to her?"

People can forgive...

"NO!" It was a frenzied shout. "You can't forgive that!"

This is human nature...

"Slavery is wrong, men and women should be free."

Your not.

"I am. I chose this crusade. When there are no more slaves I'll be free."

You live in a cage of your own making.

"She will look at me with, see Me, when I set her free."

If she doesn't...

"She will..."

But if she doesn't?

"Selfish bitch!" An ashtray flew across the room, shattering as it hit the wall.

How selfish? She is a slave.

"Everything is for her! I have sacrificed for her!"

She never asked.

"We pledged to be together."

She did not abandon you.

"She let the witch touch her!"

She was obviously disorientated.

"They must drug her." It was like a light-bulb going off above her head.

This is ridiculous....

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" The slender woman threw herself off the sofa. Her body hit the coffee table, sending its contents crashing to the floor.

Suddenly the basement seemed too small, she had to get out. She ran from the room and up the decaying flight of stairs. The faster she ran the louder the pounding of blood in her ears became, drowning out the voices. She had to get away from the voices. They challenged her conviction and questioned her motives. She must run, she mustn't loose focus. So she ran through the house and out the door, flinging it out of the way.

As she stepped onto the unkempt lawn at the back of the building she stopped. The light streamed down on her, bathing her in heat. She kept still, like a cornered animal. Her chest heaved and her eyes darted from side to side, alert for danger. Warey of prying eyes.

Slowly she began to calm. The warm, bright sunlight burning away the sound of the voices, like morning fog. Shallow breaths calmed to deep breaths as a calm settled on her. Her resolve began to reassert itself. Standing firm, a smile inched its way onto her lips as she looked up, allowing herself to bask in the purity of the light....

**********

In the basement the uniform still rested against the door, alone. The room was dark now, the television blank. On the floor laid scattered cigarette ends and cans, fallen riders of the tables surface. In amongst the refuse lay a brown paper file. Bold against the cardboard a white label stood out starkly, proclaiming a name....

FRANCESCA ROSE



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN



Blue uniforms swarmed over the house searching for evidence, like workers ants busily gathering food. The grey haired man looked on in bemusement, his blue eyes roaming his estate. He was a little perplexed by their actions, were protecting his home or trying to find evidence against his daughter? It is was the latter, he was confident that they would find nothing. Francesca was a gentle soul and just not strong enough, physically or emotionally, to beat a man to death. Although, he couldn't find it in his heart to hate the person who did. Not after what Douglas had done to his baby.

Salvatore turned to the man by his side. "How much longer will your people be here?" It had already been a week.

"We'll be out of your hair by the end of the day, Mr Prince. I plan on leaving a police presence here, just in case the bomber strikes again." The chubby, red faced, police inspector did not wish to antagonise the billionaire.

"Good." Salvatore turned on his heels and strolled back to the house.

**********

"Mama, where's Trish?" Asked the bemused young woman.

"Contrary to popular belief, and what your father might say, I am capable of cooking a meal. Pass me the paprika." She took the jar from her statuesque daughter. "Anyway, Trish has the week off." Darla was engrossed in her preparations and missed the smirk that spread across Francesca's face.

Before the singer could make another comment about her mothers culinary expertise the door to the kitchen banged open. Two small children and one flushed adult barrelled through it. Hunter pulled out a kitchen chair and fell down into it, the little bundle in her arms held with great care. She placed the now wriggling Becca onto the floor and seemed to deflate into the seat.

Francesca and Darla shared a raised eyebrow as they watched the uncharacteristic actions of the bodyguard. For her not to acknowledge them as she entered was out of character enough, but to presume to sit in her owners presence without permission was unthinkable. Mother and daughter were quite pleased at this turn of events, for although the bodyguards were still slaves, they were trying to make each of them feel more at ease in the house. The other four were settling into this new degree of freedom with quickly, Hunter, however, seemed to be looking for the catch.

Terrance noticed the exchange of looks between his mother and grandmother and couldn't wait to reveal what he knew. "Mama, Hunter has a cold. She sounds just like that elephant on the TV." He beamed up at his tall mother, before rushing to his grandma for a hug. Rochel was close on his heels for some familial attention.

"Hunter?" The other woman didn't even turn her head, seeming to be in a world of her own. Francesca walked to her side and looked more closely at her face. Not only was the warriors face unusually red, her skin looked clammy. In the age old tradition of mothers everywhere Francesca reached out and laid a cool hand on the smaller woman's forehead.

The touch on her face startled Hunter out of her near catatonic state. It shocked her so much that she fell out of her chair and crashed to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. The brunette barely held back her mirth at seeing the other woman in such a state of disarray, she was usually so in control.

"I'mb sorry. I should have asked... Atchooo!..." A genuinely pathetic look spread across the usually stoic face.

"Hunter, do you have a cold?" The warrior nodded mutely. "Have you had a cold before?" The same head shook. "I think we should get you to bed."

"I never get sick." The artificially blue eyes were filled with bewilderment. "It's all because my implant is switched off, makes me imbune...." She trailed off with a sniff.

"Francesca, take that girl to the day room and get her to lay down." Darla took charge, as was her right as matriarch of the family. She could see the older girl was about to abject. "You will do as I say, young lady. I think we can take care of you for a few days. There are police everywhere, so you don't need to worry about your duties. Now scoot, I'll make you some tea, you used to like that when you were a little girl." She got a forlorn nod in response as the shorter figure followed Francesca out of the room. Becca hurriedly following in their wake.

Terrance and Rochel briefly looked up from their colouring, but quickly dismissed the adults antics in favour of their own. Darla beamed at the two children, just like old times.

********

"Hunter, Hunter." The singer was becoming frustrated with her patient. "Rhani, if you don't lay still I am going to tie you to that sofa!"

Becca's eyes grew wide as she heard her mama use that tone. Mama only used that tone when she was mad at them, but trying not to show it. It was even more dangerous when Mama used their full names. Becca always knew that she was in trouble when she got called Rebecca. The little girl started to giggle, Hunter was in sooo much trouble.

"Sorry." Hunter spoke in a little voice, her eyes wide and dejected. It made Francesca's heart melt.

"You know, I don't remember you be this pathetic when we were kids?"

"You must have a really selective memory, darling." Interjected Darla as she walked into the room. Terrance held the door open for his grandmother who was burdened with a tray of tea and cookies. "She was never a good patient, she'd only keep still if you watched cartoons together. So falling back on an old tradition, you two girls can watch cartoons and the children can keep and eye on you." The older woman was positively glowing. "That way I'll have you all out of my hair while I finish preparing dinner." She put the tray on the table and after giving the slave a smile she was gone.

Anyone looking in would see a picture of domesticity. Two of the children sat cross legged in from of the television, absorbed in the antics of a cartoon cat. Behind them, equally engrossed laid one prone adult. Their mother sat in an armchair with her smallest child ensconced in her lap. The room was quiet except for the sounds emanating from the screen and the occasional munching of biscuits and slurping of tea.

Francesca was watching Hunter as Hunter watched the television. The expressions that flittered across the cherubic face were mesmerising, she hadn't seen the other woman so animated since they were children. Little did she realise that her own face was reflecting her pleasure.

Becca tugged on her mothers sleeve and as the tall brunette looked down at her she whispered in her ear. Francesca beamed down at the little girl. Francesca nodded in answer to her daughters, then watched as the child climbed off her lap and walked over to the invalid.

Becca tapped the gladiator on the shoulder to get her attention. Hunter turned her head towards the serious girl. "Can I sit with you?"

The sniffing adult looked towards her owner, her eyebrows raised in inquiry. "It's alright. The kids have been inoculated against everything, you can't give them your germs."

Taking that as a yes, Becca clambered up next to Hunter, placing herself between the muscular body and the back of the couch. Within minutes she was sound asleep, showing that she was still suffering the lingering affects of the bombing. Hunter absently stroked the child's hair. In a low voice, so as not to attract the attention of Rochel and Terrance, she began talking with Francesca.

"You don't seem worried."

"Why should I be? There haven't been any letters or phone calls since.... Anyway, there are police crawling over the place. Papa said that they are going to leave a presence when they are finished." Francesca didn't want to talk about what had happened to Douglas, especially not in front of the children. They had been told their father was dead and seemed to be taking it in stride, using the resilience that children seemed to possess.

"That's not what I meant. The police suspect you..."

"Why should I worry about that? I'm innocent. It's obvious that my stalker was really after Douglas, that's why the threats have stopped. They've got what they wanted. I'm sure that once the police have finished with their investigation they'll have the culprit and we'll be safe." Francesca seemed so certain and happy that Hunter didn't want to rain on her parade.

Hunter didn't share the other woman's confidence. Deep inside she had the sinking suspicion that Douglas' murder was just the tip of a very large iceberg. Francesca was in the frame, and without any further threats things didn't look good for her. The fact that the police had no physical evidence meant very little, considering that they couldn't place anybody else at the scene either. The warriors head began to ache, too much thinking was not good for somebody with a head full of mucus. She let out a pitiful groan.

"I feel like a snot goblin!"

Two tawny heads swivelled in her direction with the speed of light. She was suddenly bombarded with two more bodies as Rochel and Terrance settled themselves on top of her, jostling their sister awake. Three small faces looked at her expectantly, wanting to know all about Snot Goblins. Francesca fell about laughing at the panicked expression on her patients face. She returned a look which said, very firmly, your on your own. She couldn't wait to hear this.

**********

"Sal, have you seen Francesca's watch?" Darla was still bustling around the kitchen.

Salvatore looked up from his position at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. "No, should I have?"

"I just thought she left it on the window ledge while we were cooking." She shook her head. "She must have taken it with her. But I could have sworn..."

In the day room, Francesca glanced at her watch, only to realise that it wasn't on her wrist. Must have left it in the kitchen. She turned back to the sleeping quartet on the sofa and relaxed. Just for now, all was right in the world.

**********

The silver watch disappeared into a dark pocket, ready to join its fellow souvenirs back in a suburban house.




CHAPTER EIGHTEEN



It was a dull day, overcast as though the sun itself had put on its mourning suit. Thankfully the rain had stopped while the funeral party were inside the church. The service was long, the priest highlighting, so it would seem, every achievement in Douglas' life. The church was packed, Douglas having been a popular man both in his business and personal life. Even Francesca found that she could forgive his trespasses against her, after his tragic death. She couldn't say the same of her father. Or her bodyguard.

After the final hymn, Amazing Grace, the priest dismissed the congregation so that they could begin the arduous trek to the cemetery. Into the first of the huge limousine's filed Douglas' parents, followed by Francesca and their three children, Hunter also joined them. Shep and Morgan sat along side the driver. There would be no complacency, especially now. The funeral had a police escort to ensure no attacks would mark this day.

In the back of the limo the twin rows of seats faced each other. Designed to carry six adults, Doug Rose Sr. and his wife Patricia faced the driver, with Mr. Rose on the left. Patricia sat between her husband and her grandson. Francesca sat facing her former mother-in-law, seated as she was in the between her twin daughters. The more pugnacious of the two, Rochel, resolutely sat in her own chair, facing her big brother, but her warm little hand was firmly encased in her mothers. Becca sat on the lap of her human security blanket, with Hunters arm wrapped firmly around her. She held Francesca's free hand. The two elder Rose's didn't spare a glance for the tall brunette.

Francesca had never been comfortable at funerals. She was usually surrounded by her parents and brothers. Now she had to be the strong one, for her children. It was a difficult task, made more so by the open hostility coming at her. She was thankful that Patricia was looking out for Terrance. The older woman would ruffle his hair and squeeze his hand when he looked close to tears. He looks just like his father, both women thought.

Rochel snuggled up to her mama, still clasping the long-fingered hand, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between the adults. On Francesca's other side, the usually shy Becca smiled sweetly at her grandfather. She wasn't less upset than her brother and sister, but she wanted him to stop looking at Hunter like he wanted to ground her, or something. It seemed to be working, he was now pulling funny faces at the little girl.

Hunter felt strangely at ease in the back of the huge car. Here she could lend her strength to Francesca and the children. For the duration of the brief journey, inside the confines of the car, she could be Francesca's equal. The little girl on her lap made her feel more trusted than she could have expressed. She knew that Terrance and Rochel accepted her as part of their lives, but Becca seemed to embrace it. Hunter had expected the children to treat her like a pet, yet they respected her and the other slaves. As she sat being glowered at by Douglas' father, with one arm wrapped around Becca's waist, Hunter was content.

Francesca reached for Becca's hand, having released it to pass a tissue to her son. Instead of grasping the child's small hand she found herself holding Hunters, where it lay between them. She shot a look towards her in-laws, who were pointedly not looking at her and felt relief wash over her. She felt Hunter squeeze her hand reassuringly before pulling away to wrap both arms around the dozing form in her arms. Anybody looking at the heiress at that moment would have seen a look of total adoration cross her face as she look at the tableau beside her.

**********

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen." The priest closed his Bible and stood silently by the graveside.

The assembled friends and family of Douglas Rose Jr. bowed their heads as the coffin ended it's descent. Patricia and Doug Sr. threw roses onto the casket, followed by a handful of earth. Francesca also took a handful of consecrated earth from the proffered box and cast it downwards. The three children stepped in front of their mother, each with a token of love in their hands.

Terrance was the first to step forward, letting a letter fall from his hand. The envelope carried his unique, childish scrawl. He looked down into the dark chasm of the grave and almost toppled forward. A hand shot out and grabbed his thin upper arm, gently pulling him back to his mother. The sad little boy sent a tearful smile of thanks to the silent figure standing beside his mother.

The twins stepped to the edge together, being careful not to stand as close as their brother. Rochel took her turn first, offering her daddy a lollipop that he had liked. As soon as it left her hand the distraught girl rushed into her mothers arms. When Becca stepped to forward she was still holding the slaves hand, a fact which did not go unnoticed by the other mourners. The final gift was a photo of the three children, that fluttered down to land, face up, on the polished wood.

Nathaniel and Rodrigo also threw a handful of the blessed earth onto the grave, followed by many of the assembled friends. When respect had been paid by each individual the group once again moved to the convoy of cars. For the journey to the wake Francesca once again suffered in silence under the piercing glare of a bereaved father and the tearful stare of a devastated mother.

**********


"Well I heard that the forensics people couldn't find any evidence in the apartment." Fat man.

"Yes, apparently the coroner couldn't hold the body any longer-no point as there was nothing there to find." Skinny redneck.

"Apparently the only way they could ID the body was through his genetic record..." The waiter moved away as the plump, overly made-up woman began gossiping.

The darkly dressed waiter moved around the room with a tray of drinks in his hands. His black waistcoat and tie made his white shirt stand out crisply. He criss-crossed the room, dancing an intricate ballet with his fellow servers, never visiting the same people. He approached a new group standing in the corner, ready to charge their glasses.

"The only fingerprints in the apartment were Douglas' and Francesca's." The smarmy young man took a wine flute.

"Well, duh. It was their home." His female companion still had a full glass.

"I agree with Teddy, it's all very mysterious. Nobody is that careful." An older, balding version of smarmy took two glasses.

"Well, Francesca is still a suspect..." Another of the young men in the group piped in as he took a drink.

The rest of the group declined drinks and the waiter once again moved off. He always got away from large groups of accountants as quickly as he could, he didn't want to become terminally dull. It could be contagious. He made his way steadily forward, towards the front of the room, stopping at group after group as he went.

"Can you believe the food? All the money they have..." Wheezed a thin old woman.

"It's not a party, Pearl. This is a wake." Her husband, poor bastard.

"That doesn't mean..."

"Have a canapé dear."

The waiter had to smile at the antics of the elderly couple, quickly wiping it off his face as he turned back to the room. It was never good to be caught smiling at a funeral. He was making steady progress towards the grieving family, each server took it in turns to serve the host family and soon it would be his. It put them more at ease. The closer he got to the front of the room the larger the groups of mourners became, seeming more like spectators than not. He picked up a new tray from one of the long tables and moved to the biggest group.

"Did you see them at the cemetery? It was disgusting!" The statuesque blond spat.

"From what I heard, it's been going on for months." This was the gossip mill.

"Douglas told me that she was with that slave when the house blew up." The suited man looked genuinely saddened as he talked about his friend.

"Well, she must be slumming it." This guy was full of himself, attractive and self centred. The waiter had seen a million of them.

"It's disgusting!" The blond again.

"You said." One of the other woman was looking bored and quickly snatched up more wine to pass the time.

"Not that, I mean laying with a slave." Didn't this chick ever shut up?

"Hunter was a sex slave, makes sense." Another of the jock-types piped up.

"Hunter is a cold blooded killer." At least one man in this group talked sense.

"True. But dangerous is alluring." Did that guy just wiggle his eyebrow?

"And sexy..."

The waiter couldn't believe what he was hearing and thanked god as the last glass disappeared off his tray. He really wanted to get as far away from these parasites as possible. He hadn't even known the man, but he would have shown more respect even if he wasn't getting paid.

Picking up yet another tray, he could finally go to the most important group in the room. The family.

**********

"You doing okay, little sis?" Rodrigo had sidled up to his sister while trying to escape from his escort.

"Yes, I really am. It's funny, but it's like we buried a stranger today." She couldn't resist leaning into her brother to take some of the weight off her aching feet.

"But your tired."

"Gee, your so perceptive." It came out more scathing than she had intended.

"So your taking this really well." His eyebrows were raised in her usual expression.

"I worry about the children, he was their father. And, its difficult not to feel guilty when his parents keep staring at me like I killed him..."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about." This was Nathaniel. Her older, more brooding brother seemed to lend a subtle strength to Rodrigo. Francesca looked between the two men and felt a sense of pride wash over her. These men would move Heaven and Earth for her, just because it might make her smile. These men knew that she could be anything she put her mind to. These men were helping to repair her damaged self-esteem.

"I love you Nat." A throat cleared. "You too Roddi." The threesome embraced under the watchful eyes of their proud father.

"Wine?"

**********

The five bodyguards stood close to Francesca and the children, watching the other guests as they milled around the room. The police stood around the perimeter of the room, watching doors and listening for stray conversation. The boys and girls in blue were still looking for a real lead, a suspect who wasn't the victims wife, and they were taking any opportunities that they could.

Hunter was vigilant, taking her responsibility to Francesca and the children very seriously, but she couldn't help observing her companions in this foreign setting. None of them had ever been to a funeral, let alone in a banqueting hall, yet here they were. It was overwhelming, especially as they had been told to eat what they wanted and drink moderately if they wished. Although Hunter doubted that Savage had heard the moderate part of that particular edict. He was knocking down the Champaign like it was water. As usual, Wolf and Phoenix looked poised and dignified a real credit to their owners. And Snake was, well he was Snake. Inscrutable and unblinking.

Soon Hunter was once again watching her childhood friend. It was so easy to just watch the statuesque woman move. She had a grace that she wasn't even aware of, something that Hunter had rarely seen. She had lived among people taught to move in certain ways for far too long not to be fascinated by natural motion. The way that she touched her brothers and relaxed with them was so different from the way she was soothed by her mother and protected by her father. A tugging on her pant legged pulled her from her silent musing. Looking down she saw Becca, frantically pulling the fabric.

"Yes?" The little girl beckoned her downwards, so Hunter crouched at her level.

Becca moved as close to Hunters ear as she could and whispered. "I need to go pee."

The bodyguard was charmed all over again by the child and rose in a fluid motion with the five year old in her arms. Hoisting her firmly onto her hip, she approached Darla Prince.

"Excuse me, Mrs Prince, Miss Rose needs the bathroom. I could take her, hardly seems worth a big group of us going since the police are here."

"Good idea Hunter, are you sure you can manage?" She received a bemused nod in response. "Fine. Could you take the other two as well? I'm sure they could do with a toilet break as well." The matriarch of the Prince dynasty walked over to her other two grandchildren. The little boy and girl were, seemingly, having an eating contest and the older woman couldn't help but wonder who would be sick first.

Shortly Hunter found herself with Becca on her right hip and Rochel on her left. Terrance Held onto his littlest sister's foot so as not to be separated from their protector. The former gladiator skirted the edge of the room, rather than cutting through it. She had heard some of the gossip and accusations that were flying around and didn't want her young wards to hear it. As she neared one of the side doors, leading to the most convenient washroom, she noticed the female officer on the door. Looking closely she recognised her as their driver on the day of Francesca's first interview. She even wore the same mirrored sunglasses as before. The officer held the door open for them and Hunter offered her a warm smile of thanks before quickly heading to the toilet. She didn't want a stain on her suit.

**********

She smiled at me today.

So beautiful.

I knew she'd recognise me.

I knew she'd remember.





CHAPTER NINETEEN



"Um, is this really a good idea?"

Francesca turned from pulling on her wetsuit and what she saw almost made her burst out laughing. There stood Hunter looking like the worlds biggest three year old. Her bottom lip jutted out as she pouted and her wetsuit was twisted and uncomfortable looking. Her blond hair, recently cut short to loose the last of the blue dye, stuck up in every direction. A sure indication that she had been running sweaty hands through it.

"I know you can swim, Hunter. We've swum in the creek with the children lots of times." She pulled up the zipper on the back of the suite before moving towards the warrior. "What's wrong?"

Hunter was momentarily distracted by the feel of Francesca's hands on her shoulders, pulling the wrinkles out of the tight rubber. The elegant hands ran across her torso and down her arms settling the fabric more comfortably. Caught up in the sensations the other woman created in her, she was startled when blue eyes drilled right into her own.

"I, um, I hate being submerged. When I was trained to fight, they used to hold us under water to get our obedience." She saw the look of guilt pass behind the brunette's eyes. "I really do want to learn how to scuba dive." She didn't even convince herself.

"You should have said. There are a thousand things we could do on a beautiful day like this." She was thoughtful for a moment. When Hunter tried to speak she put a finger over impossibly soft lips. "We'll go jet skiing instead." This time she did laugh as Hunters eyebrows almost crawled off her forehead.

**********

Francesca bustled around the kitchen of her parents home. She was a women on a mission. Nothing would get in her way. She was making a birthday cake for her daughters if it killed her. Although, at this rate it might kill Hunter first.

"Shouldn't the cocoa powder go in the other bowl?" Hunter was hiding behind the recipe book.

"I know what I'm doing!" It was a snarl.

"Alright." Hunter slid further behind the kitchen table. She definitely didn't want to be wearing the cake mix.

"If mother can cook, then so can I. I have a recipe book, all the ingredients. Simple." She rubbed her cheek, leaving a white smudge in her wake.
Simple, mused Hunter. She'd believe it when she saw it. The three times that she had seen Francesca cook had all ended in disaster. Thankfully she had not poisoned anybody yet.

"So, the twin's are six on Thursday?" Distract her, maybe that'd calm her down. Or maybe she'll forget what she's putting in the cake. Oh God, it could get worse.

Francesca didn't notice the other woman's sudden fidgeting, her attention was riveted on the cookery book. Absently she answered, "They're getting so big. Terry is eight and now my babies are six."

"Wish I could get them a present." It was a sigh.

"You don't have to ask my permission." She really wasn't paying much attention to her companion. She was comfortable enough to pay her no mind. Hunter wouldn't hurt her.

"Thank you, but I don't have any credit." The sadness in her voice did pull Francesca up short.

"You should make them something. Can you still make those dumplings? The ones with the red-stuff in them? You could make them a batch of those." She smiled brightly, remembering how good they tasted when she was a child.

"I could do that, but it doesn't seem like enough." Her head was bowed to the table.

Francesca crouched beside her. "They think your the greatest thing since television. They'd love a paper bag if it came from you. Don't worry."

Hunter couldn't help but reach out and wipe the trace of flower off the face so close to her own. They shared a smile before Francesca turned back into the cooking menace.

**********

She fell to her knees on the cushioned floor. Her breath rasped in and out of her lungs as she tried to force oxygen into them. The sweat cascaded off her body onto the blue rubber matting as she crouched on all fours. The air inside the gymnasium seemed to be getting hotter and hotter as her skin continued to flush red. With a final groan her arms gave out, leaving her spread eagled on her stomach in the middle of the room. She lay, sides heaving, for what felt like hours. Then the blessed air-conditioning was turned on. Blissful cold washed over her.

"You are a sadist and I hate you." She groaned to her tormentor.

"I told you so. I can for miles, all out, and still not look like you do right now." Hunter's skin had a thin layer of sweat, but her breathing was normal. She moved to the side of the room and picked up two towels.

"But we've been training..." She raised her head only to have it flop back down, seemingly of its own accord.

"I've been training for almost twenty years. You need a little more practice before you can keep up with me." She tried not to sound smug, but Francesca was so cute when she was pathetic.

"Hay." Her head was up and she was pouting at her bodyguard. "I beat you back here. I am too fit enough."

"Um, I did another lap." This time she was sheepish. "You really shouldn't just lay there like that, you'll get really stiff and you might pull something."

Wide blue eyes regarded her in bewilderment. "You expect me to move?"

"I could give you a massage to loosen you up, if you can't move." She knew it was a bad idea as soon as it left her mouth.

"I take it all back, you're the greatest!" Who could resist an offer of a massage from Rhani? Francesca certainly couldn't.

Hunter straddled Francesca's hips and used the towel to dry off the taller woman. She rubbed vigorously to get the other woman's blood flowing. Little did she know that Francesca's body was doing a good job all on it's own. Hunter was facing the heiresses feet and started to relax the abused leg muscles. When Francesca felt the warriors bare hands on her thighs she almost swooned, fortunately she was laying down. The pain immediately began to lessen.

"Why don't you ever use my name?" She was relaxing into the gentle ministrations.

"Excuse me?"

"You never call me Francesca, but I've told you that you can. The others do." She was honestly curious.

"I don't know. I can if you want me too. I just never have, that's all." She was still rubbing the smooth skin.

"You could, you know, call me Chess?" It was said too casually. Francesca wanted it so badly.

"I don't think I can, Francesca." The brunette was disheartened and happy, all at the same time. It was a step, a baby step, but a step in the right direction.

**********

"Up. Higher...Um, right there!" The prostrate form moaned in pleasure.

The lithe young blond straddling the muscular torso grinned as she jabbed an elegant finger into a tattooed shoulder-blade. Her actions elicited a howl of protest and a pout from the younger girl beneath her. She leaned down and as an act of consolation pressed a kiss to the same spot.

"You are such a baby!" She laughed at the reproachful look in the other girl's eyes.

"I'll have you know I am a great warrior!"

"Great Wuss." The finger jabbed again.

The reclined form turned quickly onto her back so that she was now looking up at the towering woman. An evil grin spread across her face, mirth filling her green eyes. Using her superior strength she launched herself at the other girl. With no warning the slim blond found her back on the mattress and a grinning lunatic above her, tickling her mercilessly.

"Get off!" This came through a squeal.

"What am I?" The barrage never stopped.

"Cute?" A raised eyebrow and a leer accompanied her response.

The compact youth couldn't resist and lowered herself to the waiting lips of the other girl. Her bare torso brushed against the linen of the other girl's shirt creating goose-bumps on her skin. When she drew back...

The blue eyed brunette smiled lovingly up at her. Long fingered hands took her face and pulled her back to waiting lips.

Hunter sat bolt upright in the former closet, chest heaving from arousal. Her eyes flicked madly from side to side as she tried to reconcile the images in her dream. She loved Jordan. She was betraying Jordan, even in her dreams. Her thoughts were consumed by the heiress, and now she had invaded her dreams. Dreams made of memories that she had always cherished. The only love she had ever known. Until now. Her head fell back against the pillow with a thud.

I love her. Damn.

**********

Francesca woke up to sunlight filtering through her bedroom blinds. She could feel the last fingers of a dream slipping out of her grasp as she reached full consciousness. All she knew was that it had been a really great dream. She turned onto her side, towards the closet come bedroom where Hunter slept, and propping herself up on one hand she gazed into the shadowed recess.

Hunter slept like a kitten. She was rolled into a little ball with the blankets scrunched around her waist, not covering her torso or her legs. Her head was buried in her pillow, her hair tousled and looking like a golden halo where the sun peeked in. Much to the singers surprise both of her eyes were closed and she seemed to be breathing deeply.

For long minutes Francesca simply watched the other woman sleep. She had never indulged herself in this was before, with anybody. She had always turned away from Douglas, even as they slept and Rhani always seemed to be awake. As the light from outside grew brighter the beams crept closer and closer to the warriors face. Soon they would wake her. Francesca wanted so much to draw the drapes more tightly together, but she knew that as soon as she set foot on the floor her protector would be at her side. She smiled as the blonde's eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids for a few seconds more.

Sweet dreams, Love.




CHAPTER TWENTY



It seemed, to one bemused bodyguard, that Francesca had been possessed this morning. Hunter had woken to the sound of the taller woman diving out of bed and rushing into the bathroom, leaving her feeling somewhat dazed as she sat up in her bedroll. Now here she was being rushed into her clothes by a fully dressed and practically vibrating heiress. It was so like being with the child that Francesca had once been, that the former gladiator almost forgot when she was. The instant she was decent, the brunette grabbed her hand and dashed out of the room, dragging a baffled Hunter in her wake.

Their first stop was the children's room where Francesca whisked Snake away and began talking to him in tones too low for the blond to hear. Hunter made her way over to the three bleary eyed children as she waited for their mother. All three of them were tousled, their hair sticking up in comical directions. Terrance was the most alert, looking around the room and quickly locating his mother. He rolled out of bed and padded over to his mother, wearing plaid pyjamas that made him look like a little old man. When he reached his mama he got a kiss and took himself to the bathroom. His sisters weren't nearly as awake.

Rochel, being her usual self, peered quickly around the room before burying her six year old head back under her pink sheets. Becca was little better, seeming to only have the energy to climb onto hunters lap and fall straight back to sleep. Hunter peered down at the cherubic face that was angled against her chest, looking serene in sleep. The three children had become a source of real pleasure for the woman who had her own childhood snatched away from her. She rested her chin lightly on the girls head as she gazed at the tall brunette wistfully.

For her part Francesca was as excited as she had been for a long time. She had a plan and she was putting it into action, all on her own. Nobody was codling her or telling her the way that she should do things and it was empowering. As she stood talking to the bald man, outlining the days events and schedules, she realised for perhaps the first time in her life, what it meant to be a Prince. To have power but control people through respect. She had long since stopped thinking of the five remaining guards as slaves, the thought rarely crossing her mind. Whether it was because she now knew Hunters true identity she could not tell. These people were her employees, and certainly she hoped they were becoming her friends. Whatever they may feel towards her, she knew that they would be in on anything that would make Hunter happy. The wide grin spreading across Snakes usually sober features told her more than she could have hoped for about how her plan would be received.

She finished with Snake as quickly as she could and turned to leave, seeing for the first time the beautiful picture that her smallest child and the strong warrior made. Sitting on the rocker beside Becca's bed, the short warrior was wrapped around the small bundle in her arms. Becca's head was tucked against Hunters chest, her little hand fisted in the fabric of the blonde's shirt, her legs curled on the woman's lap. Hunter was contentedly rocking the chair, seemingly unaware that she was softly humming to her sleeping passenger. Suddenly the strict timetable for the days events were swept away. The plan would get done, later. This moment was too precious to interrupt.

Just then a still rumpled and pyjama clad little boy walked back into the room, and suddenly found himself lifted into his mothers arms. Francesca marvelled at how big her firstborn was getting. Soon he would be too big and too heavy for her to carry, but for now she would make the most of it. She lovingly carried him over to his sisters bed and sat down beside Rochel. Terrance snuggled on one side of his mother, Rochel burrowing close to the new warmth beside her. Francesca ran her fingers through their hair as the fell asleep. This is what a family should be, she thought, as she raised her head, her eyes meeting Hunters. The two women held each others gazes as they sat in companionable silence, basking in the love and trust of sleeping children.

**********

Hours later, the pair found themselves once again at their childhood refuge, at the lake. As children, the lake had seemed like a jungle oasis. A place where the trees held a million adventures and wild beasts walked. Together they had battled monsters and savage warriors, searched for treasure and met handsome strangers on white chargers. The last had been Francesca's fantasy, Hunter always having been too much of a tomboy for that - usually playing the part of the prince for her friend. Now the vista seemed so different. The foliage seemed less dense, the trees shorter. The clearing only half the size and the lake which had once played an ocean, little more than a pond. The chubby little princess had grown into an Amazonian queen, her tomboy companion her champion. Yet the colours remained as vivid, bright splashes of blue, red and green in a world of greys.

Two sets of images super-imposed over each other, leaving Hunter momentarily disorientated. Since coming back into the brunette's life, they had never been here like this. When they had firstly returned to the clearing it had been as an owner and slave, trying to get along. Later they had always brought the children. They had only been here once, as friends, in the wake of Douglas' death. Hunter had comforted the distraught and confused woman. Now they were here, alone, and Hunter's already confusing emotions swirled inside her like a maelstrom.

She stood back and watched as the taller woman laid a blanket on the ground. A brown wicker picnic basket was set on one edge of the red and black fabric. Francesca turned to her companion and extended a hand, beckoning for the warrior to join her on the blanket. Soon the two of them were settled on the ground, Hunter sat Indian style while the heiress sat to the side. For a few moments they sat in companionable silence, just gazing out at the blue depths. Basking in the tranquillity.

As they sat together, the knot in Francesca's stomach began to tighten. She had brought the other woman here to talk, to tell her how she felt. For days she had been planning what she would say, and how she would act. She needed to tell the blond how she felt, keeping it inside was eating her up, regardless of the blonds feelings. If Hunter felt the same she would be ecstatic, but if her feelings were not reciprocated at least she would know the truth.

Francesca turned from the view to face the warrior. Her eye's raked over the sun bathed profile, rounded cheeks and long, golden eyelashes contrasted sharply with the long, jagged scar on her right cheek. Suddenly she found herself snared in the electric gaze. A blush spread across her sculpted face and down a graceful neck, making Hunter smile. Francesca reached out a tentative hand and lightly touched the skin beside one of those unreal eye's.

"I liked them green."

"Me too." Rather than looking away, Hunter forced herself to maintain eye contact.

"What do they do? I never read that far." She smiled softly.

"They experimented with, took out my real eyes and gave me these. They make me pinpoint accurate with projectile weapons. They are as sharp as any camera. The colour is what makes them so powerful, it focuses light in some sort of prism. I don't understand much of that. I only have a basic education after all." She grinned wryly. "They didn't take off, they are obvious and painful. Like most of what they did to me."

"I always wondered why they never sold the nocturnal technology. Are you in a lot of pain?" Francesca's heart clenched at the thought.

"Not really. You get used to it, like a background hum. It keeps me focused. No executive would pay good money for constant pain. Even pain that puts you ahead of the game." Her eyes strayed to the hamper. "What's in the basket?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Hunter was being unusually verbose, but Francesca didn't want to push too fast.

For fifteen minutes they ploughed through the contents of the hamper. They exchanged little conversation in that time, content just to be together. Occasionally Hunter would have to ask about a piece of food, not recognising some of the more exotic flavours. Like her education after leaving the Prince home, Hunters culinary knowledge had stopped there as well. She remembered everything she had ever learned, but relished new experiences.

"What did your trainers feed you?" It was a question that had lurked in the back of Francesca's mind for almost as long as the bodyguards had been in the house. Nervousness had caused her to blurt it out.

"It wasn't all gruel and water." The blond laughed. "We got fed quite well, lots of vitamin supplements and rare meat. Eggs and stuff. They needed us to be big and strong. we just didn't get much variety. Nothing like this...whatever it is." She held up the item in question.

"It's a spring roll."

"Well, its good." This was mumbled through a mouthful of the food in question.

Francesca watched Hunter relax, until the blond was reclining on the blanket, gazing up at the sky. The brunette took a large pull from her wine glass to fortify herself. She tried to speak, her mouth opening and closing a few times, but no sound would emerge. She cleared her throat, attracting the attention of her companion who watched as she moistened dry lips with her tongue. It was an unconscious gesture that Hunter found almost unbearably sexy.

"I have something to tell you Hunter and I need you to listen. When you've heard me out, I don't expect you to say anything, alright? This is just something I have to do." She waited until Hunter nodded and turned her gaze back to the blue sky.

"I never stopped thinking of you, even after they took you away. I think papa thought I was going crazy, I would sit and talk to you as though you were still there. You became my imaginary friend. I was very depressed and quiet, they even sent me to a psychologist for a while. I missed you so much. It was like that until I was about twelve. I started to make new friends and I didn't talk to you as much. But I still dreamt about you, I'd imagine what you'd look like and stuff like that.

"I got older and had boyfriends, did well in school all the things that are expected of you. I never let boys do anything more than kiss me. I couldn't seem to feel anything. I felt like a weirdo, I was fifteen and I really didn't like the boys and I dreamt of my best friend from when I was a kid almost every night. I never told any of my friends, I wanted to fit in. That's how I got into music.

"You used to like it when I sang to you, so I kept singing to you. I would write songs about everything I wanted to tell you and all the mixed up things I felt. I got noticed at school and papa's contacts meant that I got a record contract quite easily. That's when I met Douglas. He was older, more educated and he listened to me, like you used to. He was everything I could have wanted and I fell for him, head over heels. I forgot about you for a few years, no more talking to myself. Then I had Terrance and you came back. Douglas changed overnight and I was all alone. I couldn't go to my parents, I didn't want to seem like a failure. So you came back to take care of me." She took a deep breath, here came the hardest part.

"I hated you when you arrived here. You were just another way for Douglas to control me. You were violent and dangerous, and everyday I regret that way I treated you. The more time I spent with you, the more I realised you weren't that person. Then I found out who you were and I felt betrayed. I've had time to get to know you and put that over the image of you in my head. The aren't that different. Your strong, brave and caring. I finally understand why I could never let you go.... I love you." There, she'd said it. The last words had left her in a rush, now she waited.

Hunter slowly sat up, eyes fixed on the water. This was more than she could ever have hoped for. This rich, beautiful woman who she loved felt the same way. But did she really love the slave sitting by her side, or the idea of what her childhood friend would grow into? How could she ever be worthy of this woman? How could somebody so free love a slave? She didn't say any of this aloud, simply stared silently into the blue depths, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest.

Francesca looked at the proud jaw stiffen. She could have kicked herself as she felt the tension radiating off of the object of her affections. Yet she couldn't help but feel glad that she had told her. She had bit the bullet, and at least it hadn't been thrown back in her face. Her treacherous hand once again snaked out, seemingly of its own volition, to tilt that chin towards her. They were once again eye-to-eye.

"I'm not her." It was barely a whisper.

"I know. Your more than I could have dreamed." Her thumb lazily stroked her jaw.

"I have nothing."

"You have everything I need." She was drawing closer to the warrior.

Eye's, glazed with unshed tears, captured hers in a deep, probing stare. "Really?"

In answer, Francesca closed the remaining distance between them, sealing her lips to Hunters. The first kiss was little more than a pressing of lips, a reassurance from one wounded soul to another. The soft touch soon deepened as both women knew that they would not be rejected. Francesca cupped the cherubic face, one finger lovingly tracing the scar as their kisses grew more passionate. Hunter drew Francesca closer, pulling the taller woman onto her lap and wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. She never wanted to let go.

After long, breathless moments they pulled apart. Francesca laid her forehead against a strong shoulder. They just basked in the closeness until Hunters voice broke the silence. "I love you, Chess." The heiress couldn't stop the sob that escaped her at the sound of her childhood name.

"Can I call you Rhani?" It held so much hope.

"You can call me whatever you want." She placed a soft kiss on a dark temple.

"I want to set you free." Francesca's voice was growing drowsy.

"It's easier this way, for now. I don't need anything more from you. Go to sleep." Hunter lowered herself onto the blanket and cradled her love in her arms. The emotions of the day had taken their toll on the brunette, and the warrior was more than willing to watch over her.

**********

The silent figure watched as the blond and the brunette drew together in a kiss. Rage surged through the taught body, fuelled by jealousy. How dare she. How dare she love what was not hers! Hunter was not the rich bitches to love. She was already somebody else's! In blind madness she lashed out, a pale fist connecting with a tree trunk with a soft thud. Se didn't even feel the pain as her knuckles ripped. All she could feel was betrayed as she watched the couple lay down in the clearing. Wrapped in each other.



Continued in Part 3