A/N Okay, didn't realise it had been nearly a year at least before I have posted anything on fanfic! So sorry to all my readers and I shall start working on previous stories soon. But life has just been so hectic and I've finally found my feet and the fickle entity that is inspiration has come crashing back into me, hence the idea for this story. Shall say now all characters mentioned in this story are owned and created by Jeaniene Frost and are forever hers, I am merely lending them and adding my own twist and characters to create my story.
Have a few ideas for a couple of Night Huntress stories so be prepared people, and I have always been curious as to what made Ian into who he is, what trial he has endured and what could have happened that no one know turned him into the perceived callous, raging perverted man he is now. Well this is an idea that's been bouncing around my brain for a while, so be warned, it has lemon, smut, sweet and very sad moments. Hope you enjoy it! This is just a prologue and the first chapter shall be up soon. Let me know what you think!

Prologue

1789 Australia

I thought I would never be able to get the stench of that damn ship out of my nose and memories, the hull that we had been kept in for months whilst making the voyage from London to Australia revised my version of hell on earth. The conditions were appalling, the smell of rotting sea soaked wood mingled with the smell of sickness. Not everyone survived the crossing to our location of exile, but a part of me was glad to see the three lads I had befriended had pulled through.

Crispin was practically a lad after my own heart, no woman it seemed he hadn't tasted from, never given everything but the name he was born with he knew what it was like to live as the lower classes of society. Not to have everything handed to you, to grovel in the shit and dirt to find something to get you by another day. A lad after my own heart nearly, certainly had a gob on him when it came to spurning our jailers. A thief and a whore, nothing wrong with that in my book, everyone was a thief and everyone was a whore if you really thought about it. We all paid for a shag in our own way, and we stole anything we could get away with. As if the toffs would admit to being the shame though.

Timothy was another of the lads, kept quiet about what his life had been like back in London, just the fact he had watched his younger sister starve to death on the streets and had been arrested for stealing medicine from one of the local doctors in the hopes of making her better. I remembered that day in the jails before we had been shipped out like unwanted cattle. He had had a visitor, a friend who had been watching his young sister, she had sadly given him the news that she hadn't made it beyond a few more nights. Timothy had grown more quiet after that, seemed to be quite a religious man too, prayed every night and clutched a simple cross necklace around his neck when he grew angry. To each their own, if that was what would get him through our purgatory in Australia so be it.

Charles DeMortimer however was a fun fellow to befriend. When I had first met him in the shitty jail he was rather stuck up and put upon, considering himself above the rest of us low life's. I had greatly enjoyed niggling him and making him uncomfortable, but the unexpected had happened again, I found myself warming up to this chap, becoming another good fellow, a friend of mine, again his only crime had been to take on the debt his dear old pa had compiled.

And that was how I had miraculously garnered some friends, ironic we would probably die here in this strange new land. I smirked as we were all loaded into the back of the wagons and chained together for the journey to the colony we were being transferred to. Everyday till the end of our days we were meant to work.

Well…. A smirk tugged at my lips at the thought. I had never been made to do anything I didn't see a benefit in for me, so why start now. I would not end my days being worked into the ground like a dog. I would find a way out of this.

I glanced up from my chained hands at the three men sat in the wagon with me, my friends, and I vowed if I found a way out of here, I would find a way to help them too. They had helped me on the ship when I had grown sick and weak, they had fed me and kept me strong. We all had a pact to aid each other. I would uphold that deal with all my ability.

Still how could I, a mere lowlife, lower classed, bastard do to escape?