CHAPTER 1

            An overwhelming noise surrounded a square stage. Loud amounts being shouted out as cowering people were presented on stage, dressed as nicely as their sellers could afford, hands bound. The human products completely docile due to the opium their sellers had exposed them to, their small meek bodies unable to fight the tranquilizing affects.
            A shrouded figure stood off to the side of the auction stage, none of the products sturring anything up inside of him. Slowly he moved to leave, expecting and accepting that no mildly interesting product would be presented.
            “Now, for our last and final product. A young specimen, legends say, that has fought and won fights against tens of men, all on his own. Strong, young, and full of stamina,” the Portuguese seller proclaimed, moving aside as two men dragged a third onto the stage.
            The shrouded figure couldn’t help the curiosity that sprouted up inside of him from just hearing such a bogus story. He moved back to his slightly concealed position, frowning when the product was dragged onto the stage by it’s knees because it was completely unconscious.
            When the Product felt the men’s hands loosening their grip, their guards going down. The Product’s brown eyes opened widely, wildly. The shrouded figure smirked and inched forward to watch the chaos that was about to ensue.
            The Product wiped it’s head back, it’s short brown curly locks falling back with it, the tanned chiseled chest exposed more so than before, the shirt a v down to where the belt was for loose fitting pants were, all clothing had obviously been white before the had brought the male onto the stage. His shoes were leather and leather strings holding them on, obviously the man was not accustomed to such attire on his feet.
            “This Product is said to be a descendent from great Greek gods! He has so much power inside of him that no man can take him down, I shall start the bids at 5,000!” the Portuguese seller yelled loudly, people murmuring about the high price for such a docile specimen.
            The Product stared up at his captors, though his hands were bound, the rest of his body was not. He jumped up hitting one man with his elbow, the other with his foot, causing the audience to jump with fright. The Products wild brown eyes darted around, stopping at the shrouded figure before looking around more, trying to figure out where they were.
            The shrouded figure felt his stomach lurch with want, and slowly made his way around the back of the auction stage, slowly climbing up the stairs, knowing that he would have to make sure the product didn’t get too out of hand.
            “Where am I!?”the Product yelled out in his foreign language. This caused the shrouded figure to pause his actions for a bit. This was the first time that the product was actually from England, or of English decent, never was a Product sold that wasn’t from Africa or from the Southern America’s.
            “I’m not some slave or whore! I’m… Fuck… Where am I?” the Product’s large brown eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Suddenly he was grabbed by the men he had previously knocked out, once again, hitting them with his shoulders, knocking them to the ground.
            The shrouded figure moved quickly, knocking the Product down to the ground. He maneuvered to grab the Product’s tied hands pulling them back so that the they were in pain, and unable to do any more violent acts. The figure moved down, his lips pressing against the Product’s ear.
            “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut up and stop hitting people. Now I’m going to buy you, but you mustn’t attack me, I’m trying to help you. And frankly, I’m the only one that can speak your language,” the shrouded figure spoke softly, soothingly into the Product’s ear.
            Soon the Product settled down from under the figure, allowing the figure to get off of him and help him to his feet. The Product tried to see under the figure’s hood, to look at his eyes, but the figure turned away too quickly to see.
            “I’ll take him for 1500,” the figure said, “you will not be able to sell him now that he has acted in such a violent way, take it or leave it.”
            The Portuguese seller frowned and then laughed taking the money the figure handed out to him. “Yes, yes of course! Take him, he’s your problem now! No one can understand him anyway!” the Portuguese man chortled waving the audience away.
            “Come on, we must leave, no one must recognize me,” The figure said dragging the Product to a carriage. He opened the door and shoved the Product inside before stepping inside himself, the carriage taking off quickly.
            “What is your name?” The no longer shrouded figure asked. He’d taken off his hood, slowly removing the cape altogether. His hair was jet black sleek and towered on his head, his eyebrows the same jet black color. His eyes were a form of brown unknown to the Product, and they danced with amusement, and his skin was darker than the Product’s own tanned skin. The man dressed accordingly, dark clothes, tight against his form, showing every muscle that the man had, the dark clothing bedazzled with small rhinestones that formed what might  have been pictures.
            “Liam James Payne,” the Product replied glaring at the man in front of him. He figured he should have been more grateful, but he wasn’t, not in the least. He didn’t know what this man’s intentions were with him, and he didn’t care to find out. “Who are you?” He couldn’t help himself from asking.
            “I’m… I’m Prince Zayn Jawaad Malik of the Moors or Arabia, whichever you prefer,” the man replied undoing the buttons that ran up his neck, exposing his body to his collarbone.
            “Well fucking great, just what I need another Prince that think they are greater than shit,” Liam grumbled crossing his arms as he glared out the window.
            “Oh? You know other Princes? What do… Did you do for a living?” Zayn asked casually as he unbuttoned his sleeves.
            “Well, I was training for this year’s Olympics and I’m a troubadour in England’s palace when I’m not training,” Liam said his glare slowly dissipating as he glanced back at Zayn.
            “You’re an Olympian? That’s quite a feat for an Englishman, and a troubadour at that! What do you excel at?” Zayn asked trying to show Liam how truly interested he was.
            “I’m a runner, short distance, long distance, whatever, I’m good at it… No I’m great at it,” Liam said with a smug smile, but it slowly turned into a frown.
            “And how did you end up being sold to people to become a courtesan?” Zayn asked, reaching forward, dusting the dirt off of Liam, “You really are a clever man aren’t you? Acting as if the opium had gotten to you, but we both know with your body size, opium can’t affect you in anyway.”
            Liam’s smug smirk appeared back on his face again, staring at the Prince’s hands, watching where they put themselves. “I honestly have no idea, all I remember is sleeping in an inn before I left again the next day, and that night I was taken,” Liam murmured, his eyebrows furrowing together in thought, “And ever since it’s really been fade in fade out.”
            Zayn rested his hands on Liam’s knees, tugging him to the edge of the seat, so that they were inches apart. “Well, you will be fine in a couple days, they probably injected you with opium because smelling it wasn’t working.”
            Liam’s face became hard as he stared back at Zayn, glaring with as much force as he could muster. The Prince just laughed at Liam and pulled away, leaning back into his seat. “Have you ever been to the desert?” Zayn asked, flicking a piece of dirt off of his pants.
            Liam had pulled away, sitting with a slight slouch as he stared out the window, a firm frown planted on his face. It took a bit of time for Liam to look at Zayn, and shake his head before turning to look back out the window.
            Zayn’s amusement dissipated, all that was left was empathy and remorse for this poor man; his life had been taken away from him so abruptly. What he was meant to live for, what he was suppose to do with his life, was taken away from him, pulled out from under his feet.
            “How old are you?” Zayn asked his lips turned down slightly, he honestly didn’t want to know because of what had been removed from the man.
            “I’m almost nineteen,” Liam murmured staring down at his feet.
            Zayn rubbed his face, and shook his head, people could be horrible some times, he knew now that he shouldn’t treat his courtesans like they were below trash. They all could have been like Liam, working in the court as well as about to be a champion Olympian.
            “I’m nineteen, just turned a couple months ago. Oh, Liam… You are too young to become a dried up whore,” Zayn murmured grabbing the boy’s face staring into his eyes with sorrow, “I won’t let anyone use you, you shall be mine, and understand?”
            Liam pressed his lips together about to bark at Zayn that he wasn’t anyone’s property, but the other was his age, and it was better than some old man preying on you and taking advantage of you. Slowly he complied nodding his head.
            “I’m a virgin you know… I was almost married too,” Liam murmured avoiding Zayn’s eyes, “Well… I mean… I was, pretty sure I’m not now.”
            “They wouldn’t sell you for such a high price if you weren’t a virgin, they just made up that bull shit story to get you sellable, which doesn’t make sense because no one wants a whore that’ll fight back,” Zayn said pulling away.
            “I’m not a whore!” Liam snapped back.
            “No of course not, I was just talking about whores in general,” Zayn explained casually.
            Liam leaned back and visibly relaxed glad to know that his virtue hadn’t been taken along with his life and what he had lived for. Zayn began to pity the male more and more, he knew he needed to do something to make sure that the boy wasn’t dying inside as much as he probably was. He wanted to keep Liam around because he intrigued him.
            “Where are we going?” Liam asked slowly turning his head to turn his attention back to Zayn.
            “We are headed across Spain to Barcelona where we will be taking a ship over to Turkey, where we shall be staying until I am required to complete the journey to Mecca, but until then, we shall be staying in my palace in Turkey,” Zayn replied slowly, making sure he was correct with everything he said.
            Liam nodded his head leaning back against the seat before spasming violently, his body convulsing. Zayn moved quickly, pushing Liam’s shoulder’s down on the bench, Zayn straddling the boy to keep him still.
            “What the hell is wrong with you?” Zayn growled at him.
            Liam glared up at Zayn who was almost laying on top of him. The boy had pinned his tied hands above his head and was still straddling him. Liam tried to kick the boy, but he wasn’t as flexible as he wished and was unable to hit him, only buck up into him. This movement caused Zayn’s dark brown eyes to widen and make him gasp, and looked down glaring at Liam again.
            “Don’t do that again if you know what’s good for you,” Zayn warned.
            “Don’t to what again? This?” Liam began to wiggling under Zayn, his newer version of his previous convulsing, “Or this?” Liam bucked up into Zayn again, making the older boy gasp again.
            “Both! You could get yourself hurt or raped,” Zayn grumbled slowly getting off of the male.
            “Then get these damned ropes off of me,” Liam said stretching his arms out in Zayn’s face. Zayn glared at the hands and stared at the ropes.
            “Do you think you want to try and take them off yourself before you have me cut them?” Zayn questioned pulling out a large knife.
            Liam’s hands darted back and he studied the ropes, glaring at them. He dropped his hands angrily in his lap, pressing his lips in a flat line. Zayn cocked a dark eyebrow spinning the knife in his hands. Liam held his hands away frowning, shaking his head disapprovingly.
            “How long till we arrive in Barcelona?” Liam asked after a few minutes of silence. No matter how much he hated this situation, he couldn’t just not talk to the man that probably saved his life.
            “At the longest, a fortnight, if we’re lucky, only a couple days,” Zayn replied studying Liam now that he was closer. He was very masculine, very strong jaw line, very muscular, and a tanned body; his hair curly brown hair only added to the silly legend that he was a descendant of Greek gods.
            “And then travel by ship to Turkey? How long will that take?” Liam asked his mind taking in all the information, trying to see if there was any chance of escape, his eyes darted to the door of the carriage.
            “Less than a fortnight probably, if the winds are good,” Zayn replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “You do understand that I will have to quote end quote ‘claim’ you. Or else my superior relatives, like my father, can take you as their own if I don’t.”
            Liam stared down at his hands, staring at the ropes, wondering if there was just a simple way to slip the ropes off of his wrists. He glanced up at Zayn, his jaw clenched tightly.
            “I am aware… Although I would like to prolong that event as long as possible, seeing as I’m a virgin still,” Liam mumbled glancing down again, his tongue darting out to wipe his very dry lips.
            “That is an understandable request, I will agree to that, but on my order, I hope that you will comply, and it just may be sooner than later. You never know whom we might run into,” Zayn said, his lips twitching down in a sneer, his eyes darting out the windows.
            Liam nodded his head solemnly, he would wish he was in better situations, but he kept reminding himself that he was in a better situation that he would have been had Zayn not been there. Liam made a guess that his virginity would not have lasted as long as it had, had Zayn not bought him and left him to his seller and the seller’s minions.
            They continued down cobbled and dirt roads until hours after dusk. The carriage stopped in front of a large, ostentatious, inn. Liam sat up straight, his brown eyes wide as he stared at the building. Zayn chuckled and slowly nodded his head.
            “Yes, we will be staying the night there, the driver shall get the room for us, so that we do not have to confront the Inn keeper and explain why you are in ropes. Unless you want to tell them were in the middle of foreplay,” Zayn said with a wide smirk.
            Liam’s head whipped straightforward glaring at Zayn, contorting his face into an expression of disgust before he turned to the door of the carriage that was opening slowly. The driver was obviously being cautious, having seen Liam’s earlier behavior when he was being auctioned off.
            Zayn slowly stood up, and made his way out of the carriage, the driver watching Liam even closer when Zayn had his back on the boy. Zayn motioned Liam to come out of the car quickly, a kind smile planted on his face to encourage him, to make Liam trust him. Liam sighed quietly and made his way out of the carriage.
            The Prince linked his arm with his courtesan, taking the key from the driver, and led him through the large Inn to where their room was, aside from the rest of the Inn. Zayn unlocked the door, leading the way in, letting go of Liam.
            “Now please, don’t jump out the windows, I’m becoming quite fond of you, and I’m not fond of just anyone,” Zayn said, and Liam snorted, shaking his brown locks.
            “I would never jump out a window, I’m not screwed royally yet,” Liam retorted, glancing over his shoulder to smirk at Zayn, and cocked his eyebrows, telling him the puns were intended.
            Zayn shook his head laughing and began to strip himself of his clothing, as he made his way into the bedroom, ignoring the living room completely. “Come Liam, you will not be sleeping on the couch, you’ll be sleeping with me.” Liam flushed darkly, but complied and stripped himself of his own clothing happily. He was not accustomed to being covered in dirt. And with that they settled themselves into bed together.