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.
“You’re free.”
Spring didn’t adorn it, or soften it, merely laying the statement out baldly. “All that’s left is giving you the papers. Summer went to fetch them.” She swung her legs a bit, still watching him closely.
“We hoped you might want to stay.” It’s an odd quirk of speech they all have, saying ‘we’ where most people would use singular pronouns. “Your name has power, among the preternatural.”
Derek didn’t know what to say. To any of that. It didn’t make sense. “I don’t … have any means of living.” he said almost too quietly, a new fear creeping in on him. He’d heard of bought slaves being released because they weren’t good enough. They starved out on the streets, trying to scrape by on any goodwill. They didn’t usually make it.
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.”