Warlord's Mate

by Lily Graison

  Chapter Ten

  The twin moons had risen and lowered in the sky nearly an entire rotation around the planet they orbited and the little human was still acting as if he’d killed the dragon and his mate instead of let them go.

  Jorrick folded his hands over his stomach and crossed his feet at the ankle as he watched her. She’d done nothing for days but sulk, her shoulders so low it was a wonder she was even able to walk without her hands dragging the ground.

  He’d not seen her smile once since the night she’d done so with the dragon’s mate. Nor had she watched him like he’d caught her doing when he first brought her to camp and he wasn’t sure what bothered him more—her being so unhappy now or her acting as if he wasn’t even there. Why he cared, he'd never know.

  Liar.

  He scowled as the word whispered through his head.

  The human was his and that fact alone should warrant the occasional glance from her if for no other reason than she was angry at him. He’d once again made her stand by his side while he ate and not once had she acknowledged him other than to fill his cup when he slid it her way. Nor had she spoken when he forced her into his lap and made her feed him again. She’d just—done as told and woodenly walked to his hut at night as if she were marching to her execution.

  And he was damn tired of all her sulking. Tired of her ignoring him. Tired of feeling guilty when he had no damn reason to!

  He pushed up from the chair and stomped across camp. He’d put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. The other females moved out of his way when he neared them, scattering in multiple directions when he reached out to grab Mar-see's arm and roughly turned her toward him. Her face showed not an ounce of shock at his rough treatment of her and that pissed him off even more. “You will stop this behavior or I will give you a reason to be so unhappy.”

  She did nothing but stare at his chest as if he hadn’t even spoken. He grabbed a hand full of those luscious red curls, tilting her head back until she met his gaze. “Have I not provided for you? Clothed you? Seen that your belly was full before you laid your head down at night?” When she said nothing, he growled deep in his throat. “Answer me.”

  “Yes.” Her tongue darted out, his attention drawn to her lips as she licked them. His hold on her hair tightened as he tilted her head a fraction more.

  Of all the females he’d seen dropped off on this little moon, this one had lips made for kissing. They were plump and rosy pink and more than once he’d thought about rolling over in bed and tasting them. He’d had thoughts of those lips wrapped around his cock, too, but tried to push the images away whenever they popped into his head. Thinking like that only led to more thinking and when it came to females, the less he thought of them in general, the better off he was.

  But this one—she made it almost impossible to not think about. Her being constantly on his mind made him want to kill things to distract him from thoughts of her. He didn’t want to think about her. Didn’t want to imagine her draped over him under his furs at night, laying those plump lips against his flesh. And he certainly didn’t want to care she was upset with him.

  But he was.

  And that angered him even more.

  He didn’t want to feel anything where she was concerned. He wanted to get back at Allok, have his damn war, and go on living his miserable life as he had been. He didn’t need a female destroying what semblance of order he had and with Aris still missing, he’d had very little of that as of late and her attitude was doing nothing to make his life any easier.

  He lowered his head, his voice soft enough only she could hear. “You will cease this behavior at once or I will be forced to rectify it myself. Is that understood?”

  Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing a fraction. “You can’t tell me how to feel.”

  She was getting angry. Good. “I can and I will or so help me—”

  “—What? You’re not going to kill me so—”

  “—There are fates far worse than death.”

  She said nothing else, just gave him a nod, her head only moving a fraction as he still held her by the hair. He loosened his grip, searching her face for proof she indeed meant to stop sulking but didn’t find it. She licked her lips again, and he wondered if kissing her would get a reaction but doing so would only make him think about doing it a second time and he’d be worse off than he was now—wanting something he swore he’d never seek again and his judgment being clouded because of it. She wasn’t there for his pleasure and he needed to remember that but those lips … his gaze fell to them again, his body jolting when she licked them.

  Was he going to kiss her?

  Marcy held her breath as the warlord stared at her mouth. She licked her lips again out of pure nervousness and the hand he had in her hair tightened even further. “I wish to see that defiance in your eyes again, e’mahn neok. This behavior is—unacceptable.”

  She still didn’t know what e’mahn neok meant, not that it mattered, and she wasn’t about to ask him. Not now, at least. She was still too busy feeling sorry for herself and apparently it was pissing the warlord off, which suited her just fine. If she had to be miserable, he should be too.

  His gaze met her own, the color of his eyes darkening as he stared at her before he darted one last glance to her mouth and let go of her, turned, and stalked across camp without another word.

  What the hell had that been about?

  Marcy watched him leave, his wide stride and the swing of his arms telling her he was mad. Well, he could just join the club, couldn’t he?

  She scowled at his back and glanced at the others briefly before sitting down at another of the endless baskets of foraged roots from the forest. She’d done nothing since arriving but cook and serve and prepare hides and look for more food. Was this all life was here? If so, she was ready for it to be over.

  It had taken days for the pain in her back and the bruise on her forehead to go away. She still couldn’t remember how she’d gotten them but every small twinge of pain was a constant reminder of Sara and her thoughts had been on nothing but her and her dragon since the day the warlord told them to leave. She’d wanted to go with them desperately but should have known better than to get her hopes up of it happening. She was a captive. She was never getting away from this camp and it was time for her to realize that.

  She sighed and grabbed on of the roots in her basket, cutting it into pieces as she listened to the idle chatter of those in camp. Aris, the other golden skinned alien she’d talked to when she was sent to help Cayen feed the others was still missing and from what she’d heard, the hopes of finding him were slim. The name Allok seemed to be mentioned every time she heard Aris’s name pop up too and everyone seemed to think that if one of the other warlords had Aris, then he was probably dead, especially if any of them knew he was from this camp.

  Jityria walked into her line of sight and Marcy rolled her eyes. She was headed their way, and she was sure, whatever it was that was wrong, it was her fault.

  The alien in charge of the females in camp still hated her for some reason and nothing she did or said changed that, which is why Jityria showing up with fresh water for them was surprising. She actually smiled at them as she set the water bladder down, pouring water into one of the two cups in her hand and handing it to her before filling the other and holding it out to Celestia.

  Marcy drank the entire cup full of water, then handed it back. When Jityria smiled at her again, Marcy stared at her, suspicion making her nervous. Something was up with her. Or maybe the warlord had finally given in and bent the hateful thing over the nearest rock he could find and gave her a good pounding.

  She snorted a laugh at the thought. Surely the warlord wouldn’t be so desperate.

  “What is so funny?”

  Jityria was looking at her, a hint of humor in her eyes. Maybe the warlord had bent her over something. Her stomach clenched the moment she really thought about it, irritation gnawing at her a second later. Why she felt anything when
thinking the two of them together was a better question.

  Maybe it was because the heifer was so mean she didn’t deserve to get what she wanted. She sure as hell didn’t get what she wanted, so why should anyone else, especially Jityria.

  The others drank their fill of water and Jityria stood and gave her another of those creepy smiles before wandering off to do whatever it was she did all day. It sure as shit wasn’t help them. They barely saw her most days, not that she minded. The less time she had to deal with that one, the better off she was.

  They went back to work and Marcy spent most of her time watching those around camp. They didn’t realize how predictable they were. She knew exactly which of them guarded which section of the camp, knew how long they were gone before switching out again and had seen more than one gap in their defenses. A person hellbent on escaping would be gathering food for their journey but she had no idea which way to go to find Sara if she did manage to slip out unnoticed.

  A pain sharp enough to bend her double tore a gasp from her throat, her vision going dim as she grabbed her stomach.

  “Are you all right?”

  Marcy tried to say no but only managed a moan. The pain eased enough she was able to sit up and take a few deep breaths before it hit her again, this time more painful than the last. Her stomach rolled, nausea causing her mouth to start watering, her throat growing tight. She jumped to her feet, her stomach rebelling again, the horrid breakfast she’d eaten crawling its way back up as she ran for the bushes behind the females hut.

  In all the time she’d been on Prison Moon One, she’d never been sick, not even when she was given food that was questionable. Marcy emptied her stomach, then dry heaved violently until every bone in her body ached, the pain in her stomach only growing. She didn’t realize the other females were with her until something cool was placed on her forehead and a cup was held out in front of her. She took it and rinsed her mouth, then moaned as the pain in her stomach hit again.

  “Did you eat something that did not agree with you?”

  Marcy shook her head no, then took a small sip of the water. “I’ve not eaten since this morning.” She’d eaten the same bowl of thick mush every day since she’d arrived there and it had never made her sick. Why today? And why so suddenly?

  She rinsed her mouth again then drank more of the water before crawling to her feet with the help of Sebera. They guided her back to their little circle, easing her down onto one of the low-lying stools. Her stomach still ached, but the nausea had gone away. Not that it mattered, she had nothing else in her to get sick from.

  Tezhila gave her another cup of water and she took a sip, then stared down at the cup. Had the water made her sick?

  A look at the others gave her no sign that they were feeling ill so it couldn’t have been that. She took another deep breath, trying to clear the stink of puke from of her head. Jityria was across the camp, looking her way and again, that crazy smile was on her face. Her pulse leaped. Had she—

  Marcy looked for the other cup but didn’t see it. She glanced back up at Jityria and the evil thing lifted her hand, shaking the extra cup in the air before throwing her head back and laughing.

  The bitch had poisoned her. She’d put something in the cup. “Is there something in the forest that could cause a person to get sick like that?”

  The others all turned as one to see what she was looking at, Celestia making a noise in the back of her throat before sitting down. “Yes, hysleria. A leafy frond found near the pond. When dried, it can be added to liquid to induce purging.” Celestia shook her head. “If Jityria did this to you, I would be more careful how you speak to her.”

  Marcy scoffed. “I’ll be damned. If that heifer wants to play rough, then so be it. I can assure you, I’ll come out the winner.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The warlord watched her for days after telling her to snap out of her funk and the added attention from him did nothing but piss Jityria off more.

  Marcy didn’t accept any more cups of water or bowls of food from her but Jityria still managed to get back at her for the attention Jorrick was showing her by working her from sun up until sundown. And no matter how tired she was, Marcy made sure to let Jityria know where it was she laid her head down at night, pausing at the door of the warlords hut and making sure she made eye contact with the hateful thing. It was petty. She knew it was, but if having Jityria think she was riding the warlord into ecstasy every night was the only way she had to get back at her, then so be it. It wasn’t as if everyone in camp didn’t think it was happening, anyway. And why would they not? The warlord didn’t make any of the other females go to his hut at night—only her, so how would they know Jorrick hadn’t demanded she do anything other than sleep inside it with him? No one besides her knew that she always laid in the floor. Or that he picked her up every night and put her in his bed. She might as well just start crawling under his furs herself. She always woke there. Besides, as odd as it was to sleep with a man who didn’t want to have sex with you, Marcy wasn’t complaining. It was nice sleeping on a semi-soft bed of furs with a muscled hunk wrapped around her. Things could be worse and she thanked every deity known to man that things weren’t.

  As they did every week, they were foraging for berries and nuts and anything else they could find that was edible in the surrounding forest. Someone had taken down another of those large wooly beasts and the aliens would be feasting tonight so Cayen needed more of those blue root things he sometimes cooked.

  Marcy was on her knees, digging into the dirt with a short stick when an alien stepped into her line of sight. He came straight at her and grabbed her arm.

  “Up on your feet.”

  Marcy dropped her stick as he jerked her off the ground. “Geez, where’s the fire?” He started pulling her away from camp, further into the trees. “Where are we going?” He didn’t answer. She didn’t remember seeing him before but there were so many aliens in camp, most off on patrol somewhere, she wasn’t even sure how many there were.

  They reached the ridge and started climbing up the small incline, his hold on her arm tightening. When he looked back over his shoulder, she saw what looked like fear in his eyes and she paused. He jerked on her arm when she did. “Let’s go. Don’t stop.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He licked his lips and looked back over his shoulder. Marcy did too. She saw Celestia running through the trees toward camp moments before a loud, shrill sound filled the forest. The alien holding her arm started to run, dragging her with him.

  She’d seen enough abduction movies to know when someone was about to get caught and this alien’s skin suddenly looked wet and he started oozing an odor that was the most foul thing she’d smelled since being dumped on the planet. He was running scared and, if she had to guess, wasn’t from their camp.

  Marcy knew it for a fact when they reached the top of the hill and saw half a dozen aliens stand up from behind a cluster of bushes they’d been hiding behind, the orange hulking alien from the arena one of them. He grinned at her, his lipless mouth splitting wide across his face. “Told you Kr’Atek would have you.”

  As he had in the arena, he referred to himself in third person and puffed up his chest as if it was supposed to impress her. When he reached for her, Marcy did the only thing she could think of at the moment—she screamed.

  The orange thing grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder, the breath knocked out of her when she started bouncing with every step he took. The surrounding noise grew, loud shouts and angry snarls chasing them as the alien carrying her started to run.

  Marcy braced her hands on his back to try to stop bouncing so much. Despite the thick muscles that made up the majority of his body, his skin was soft to the touch. Marcy dug her nails in deep into his flesh, sinking them in far enough small dribbles of blood were seen. He yelled, jerking to a stop, and slung her from his shoulder. She hit the ground with a grunt.

  Letting go of her hadn’t been his plan. He look
ed panicked as he reached for her again but Marcy jumped to her feet and ran before he could touch her. She barely made it five steps before one of the others tackled her to the ground. It looked as if those self-defense classes she’d taken were finally going to pay off.

  Marcy bowed her back, bucking the alien up enough to grab his arm, then braced her feet and pushed him over onto his back, bringing her elbow down and jabbing him in the stomach until he let go of her. When she was on her feet, she kicked him in the face and turned to run before he could grab her again but was knocked down by another.

  This one took a little more effort to get away from and she crab-walked backwards when she broke his hold. A stick lay by her hand. She grabbed it as she crawled back to her feet. “Stay away from me.”

  The orange alien laughed. “You won’t be brave when before Allok. He waiting for you.”

  The need to stay calm had been drilled into her head by the self defense instructor and she'd always thought she would be but at the moment, panic felt as if it was crushing her lungs. She couldn't breathe and when he rushed her, she weakly swung her pitiful excuse for a weapon at him, screaming when he jerked it out of her hands, the bark biting into the sensitive skin on her palms.

  The aliens from camp finally topped the hill, and it only took seconds for the entire area to erupt into mass chaos. There were so many aliens, Marcy couldn’t tell who was from which camp.

  Kr’Atek looked over her shoulder and growled, his mouth turned down on both ends. He reached for her again and Marcy clawed at his face before beating at him weakly with her fists.