Send “Auction” for your muse buying mine as their slave
Derek snarled lowly but kept his head down as he was transferred to the person that bought him, seeing a small female form before him now.
A quiet tap of footsteps heralded Summer’s return. “Yes, you do,” she said, offering him a folder. “You have a pension. Every slave we free draws a pension. You can take it and go, if you like, or you can stay and work for it. I do still need a bodyguard.”
Derek was extremely uncomfortable. There was something unsettling about these assured people and their ways that he just wasn’t used to. It was all well thought out but Derek very nearly felt like he was backed into a corner. Figuratively. He’d chosen the literal corner to occupy in this room.
Spring’s face was still impassive, calm, but Summer closed her eyes, looking pained. She pulled her hand back, then laid the folder on the little table by the door, on top of the few medical tools there. “This is why I wish you could trust us, just a little. Everything we do makes you afraid. I don’t understand it! There’s no trick, no trap, you can ask any question you like, do anything you like!”
She buried her face in her hands, and Spring came to place a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “I told you,” she said softly, looking at Derek. “She takes it as a personal insult. Please go, for now.”