Xyrans of all colors swarmed around the Targin Market, and most of the black eyes were focused on her and Rell, their hot gazes feeling like a thousand ants crawling over her skin. Small rooms with floor to ceiling windows each had a woman on display, and Jordan watched one Xyran give a man standing guard some coins before heading to the window room. When he reached the woman, she drew the curtain closed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening behind that curtain. A few feet down, she watched another Xyran leave a room and the window slide open. Jordan’s gaze clashed with the woman’s. She was Xyran, but there was no denying the emptiness shining from the dead eyes. Some of the women were human, and those windows had a line of Xyran males waiting their turn. A pimp negotiated and accepted the payment just outside her door. Jordan felt pity well up inside her because she couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be used and abused over and over again. No woman should have to endure such degradation, and she wished she could help them.
