by Lily Graison
The smaller aliens were now turning and running into the trees as the sentries from camp came rushing up the hill. Kr’Atek gave her one last look before turning and following the others.
One of the aliens that tried to abduct her was a couple of dozen steps away when the warlord stepped out from behind a large cluster of thickly leafed bushes. His blade was already in the air when the alien screeched and came to a stop.
The warlord’s blade sliced through the alien’s neck as if it were nothing before he leaped and swung at another. Weapons were flying, bodies falling, and Marcy didn’t know which way to go. She backed up against a large tree and slid down its trunk, making herself as small as possible, watching the fight. Her attention was on one alien in particular and she had a hard time looking away from him. The muscles under his skin moved in such a way she wasn’t able to do anything but stare at him. He looked fierce, his long blade swung repeatedly, and he never stopped until there were only a few aliens remaining.
He wiped his blade on the back of the alien in front of him and slid it into the scabbard at his waist before heading straight for her. He never said a word when he reached her, and she sucked in a quiet breath when he lifted her into his arms in one quick motion and started back to camp.
Vikram fell into step with him as he started down the hill. “Your orders, warlord?”
“Drag their bodies to the border and leave them to rot.” Vikram nodded and turned on his heal, but the warlord called out and stopped him. “Don’t forget their heads.” The warlord’s second in command smiled before turning away. His hold on her tightened. “Are you hurt?”
The awkwardness of him carrying her only lasted a few seconds and she relaxed, then held her hands out in front of her, palms up. “Not really. I’ve just got a few scratches is all.”
He looked down at her then and met her gaze. “You are not to go beyond sight of one of the sentries when with the other females in the forest. Is that clear?”
This close up, Marcy could see those sharp teeth that reminded her so much of fangs. She remembered the feel of them in her flesh, remembered seeing her blood staining his lips—lips that were quite nice, now that she thought about it.
His arms tightened around her. She’d woken so many times locked within his embrace she was used to the feel of them but no one had ever been there to witness it. As they reached camp, everyone seemed to be staring.
The other females were clustered in a small group by one of the huts, their eyes wide as they looked at her. The warlord set her on her feet but kept his hand on her back until she was steady. He looked at Celestia. “See to her wounds, then go help Cayen with the evening meal.”
The warlord turned those strangely colored eyes on her as he stepped away and for a brief moment, she would have sworn she saw concern shining in them. It was gone in a blink and she watched him walk away and head back into the trees.
Her hands were stinging like fire and a glance at them let her know why. Bits of splinters were sticking from her skin, dirt packed into the red welts dug into her flesh. Getting them clean would be painful.
Celestia touched her arm and tried to get her to follow her. Marcy lifted her head, watching the warlord’s retreating back and was about to turn away when he glanced over his shoulder at her. The look on his face was deadly, and she pitied any of Allok’s men he ran across. As she watched him walk away, one question kept popping into her head—was the warlord furious at the thought of Allok’s men getting so close to camp without being seen or that they’d tried to take her? And why did thinking it may have been the last make things low in her belly pull tight and cause her heart to flutter like a caged bird?
How had they come so close to camp without notice? Were some of his men disloyal? Were they secretly working with Allok? He glanced at those around him. If he found out they were, he’d pull their guts out through their lying throats.
Most of them were in a small cluster. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air and caused bloodlust to cloud his vision. The anger he felt caused his limbs to tremble, and it took opening and closing his fist several times to gain control over it.
Nothing had gone right for days now and this little attack did nothing to calm his already scattered thoughts. There was still no sign of Aris and as much as he wanted to deny it, he feared him dead. It filled him with rage to think it and he was surprised he was able to hold it all in. He wanted to kill something and this latest attack was all he needed to march straight to Allok’s camp and rip his head off with his bare hands but knew, if the bastard had taken Aris, that was exactly what he wanted.
The war he’d been trying to wage was nearly upon him but he wanted to be the one calling the shots, not Allok. They’d do this his way. On his terms. He’d not walk into a trap. He’d worked too long and too hard to be so careless.
The human didn’t help matters any either. Her being injured concerned him more than it should have and her anger at him left him conflicted. He shouldn’t care if she was mad or hurt. She meant nothing to him, but having her ignore him annoyed him like nothing else had in more moons than he could count.
He should put her in her place. Stop putting her in his bed and stop coddling her. Stop wrapping her in his arms at night and sleeping with his nose buried in her silky hair and stop treating her differently than he did the others.
He growled deep in his throat, annoyed all over again. He needed to get her out of his head once and for all. Maybe he should just take her and be done with it, fuck her until he was spent and didn’t have the energy to even think about her again and then he could stop thinking about her at all. He could make her sleep with the other females and forget she was even there. He could stretch out on the entirety of his bed and not have to share it. Her scent would eventually leave his furs and he would forget how she felt pressed against his skin.
Allok tried to take her.
The stray thought whispered through his head like a phantom and caused an unfamiliar panic within him. Jorrick stopped walking. The scent of blood was thick in the air and he could smell the slightest hint of hers mingled with those that had bled out on the ground. She hadn’t been hurt other than a few nasty scrapes on her hands but it could have been worse. They could have killed her trying to get away. Or Kr’Atek could have dropped her and broke her neck.
He clenched his jaw and looked back at camp. He could barely see it from here. She’s safe now. The words whispered through his head, followed by the realization that he shouldn’t care. That he’d taken her from the arena for one reason only: to get back at Allok. Him wanting her so desperately meant he had plans for her, and any reason to thwart those was worth the effort. Now that they'd tried to take her twice now, meant he'd been right. She was worth something to Allok so maybe that war he'd wanted wasn't so far off.
But—now that they’ve tried to take her, he couldn’t see past his own rage that they’d even attempted it.
Jorrick ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. What was he doing? Why did she confuse his thoughts so damn much? Did she hold magic like so many claimed? Is that why his thoughts where she was concerned were so muddled? Had she bewitched him? There had to be an explanation for his almost possessive interest in her. She meant nothing to him. She was only a pawn in the war games he wanted to play, but Allok’s men trying to take her from him made him want their heads on a pike. It caused adrenaline to race through his body. His pulse beat so fast now he heard nothing but his own blood rushing through his ears and it felt as if something was trying to claw its way out of his skin. But this is what you wanted! What you’d hoped would happen. Yet….it made him furious they’d dared to try.
Were his sudden feelings for her because of something she’d done? Had she used magic on him to insure he’d keep her safe? He was beginning to think she had.
He clenched his fist again, stretching out his fingers before making another fist. He had to stop thinking about her and focus on the task at hand. Allok had sent men
to take her and this was what he'd been hoping would happen. He'd wanted Allok to start a war, and now it was close. He just had to bide his time—and not let that little witch get inside his head any more than she already had.
Joining the others, he followed behind them as they dragged the dead through the trees. He hoped Allok was waiting for them when he reached the edge of his territory or at least more of his men were. He was still on edge and needed to kill something, needed to bathe in their blood and try to get that human out of his head.
Or maybe you just need to fuck her and be done with it.
He scowled, unsheathed his sword and hoped like hell someone got in his way.
It was near dark when the warlord and his men returned. They were covered in blood and not alone. Marcy jumped to her feet when two women were shoved into the middle of camp, their arms bound in front of them.
Both women were covered in filth and wearing one of the short dresses the aliens on the ship had given them to wear. She couldn’t see much of them but she could see enough to know they were human.
Her heart was racing as she stared at the one with black hair. Emma’s hair was black, but it had been long. That didn’t mean it couldn’t have been cut since the last time she’d seen her. She took a step forward but stopped when she saw the warlord walking toward the two women, his gaze intent on their faces.
Was he going to claim them like he had her? Her heart clenched at the thought, the now healed bite mark on her neck tingling as she watched him cross the camp.
She wasn’t sure what he was saying to his men, her attention was so focused on his hands as they rested on the humans’ shoulders and the way he was standing so close to them. Where had he found them and what was he going to do with them?
He turned suddenly, his gaze landing on her for a brief moment before he headed across camp. The females were herded toward the pond and she imagined the warlord watching them bathe as he’d done her. Something tugged at her chest thinking about it and she couldn’t get the thoughts of him standing on the banks of the pond watching them out of her head until the two girls were brought back into camp by Jityria and shown to the females hut and told that’s where they would sleep.
The relief Marcy felt was so profound, she was dizzy and had to brace her head in the palm of her hand—then puzzled at why she felt so relieved to begin with.
Because you like him.
Marcy watched the newcomers as the words whispered through her head. Did she like him? She’d been there for weeks now and although she hated being a possession to someone or made to serve ungrateful aliens, she didn’t hate knowing regardless of what happened, the warlord would keep her safe. He’d come for her when that huge orange alien and his friends had tried to take her, had even carried her all the way back to camp as if he cared and had given her a look afterwards that made her wonder if maybe, he did.
But now he was bringing new humans into his little harem of women. Marcy looked over at them. Both girls stared around camp, looking at the aliens who were staring back at them. The black-haired girl wasn’t Emma. She’d never seen her before, nor had she ever seen the blonde that was with her. Both women looked like they hadn’t eaten in days.
“Are you hungry?”
The blonde looked at her like she’d said the stupidest thing she’d ever heard, her lip curling before she said, “What do you think? We’ve been running scared for days and I’ve yet to see a burger joint out in these woods.”
Okay. Let’s take the blonde off our potential friend’s list.
“I’ll take anything you have,” the black-haired girl said. “I’d eat a bug at this point.”
Marcy reached into one of the baskets they used for foraging. Several of the large blue roots Cayen cooked were sitting in it waiting to be cleaned and cut. She picked out two of the largest ones and motioned to one of the water bladders hanging from a spike on the side of the hut. “Here.” She held her arm out, offering the roots. “These taste nothing like a bacon cheeseburger but it’ll fill the empty spot in your belly. There’s water hanging behind you to wash them with.”
The black-haired girl took one and mumbled a soft, “Thank you,” before turning to wash it, then took a bite. Her nose scrunching as she chewed. “It’s not great but tastes better than a bug.”
Marcy motioned to the short stools they sat on. “Have a seat.” She looked at the blonde. “Both of you.”
The blonde bit into her washed root and gave her a look she was all too familiar with. Her best friends sister back home had the same attitude most of the time. Whenever she was scared or confused, she’d lash out and if Marcy had to guess, she’d say that’s what this girl’s problem was. She was scared shitless and tried to hide it by being a bitch.
“I’m Marcy.” She introduced them to the others, then motioned across camp toward Jityria. “I’d stay away from that one as much as you can. She has a bad attitude and isn’t scared to show it.”
The black-haired girl sat down and sighed. “I’m Krista.” She glanced at the blonde. “And that’s Dawn.” She stared at those in camp for a long time before clearing her throat. “So,” she took another bite of the blue turnip root. “How do these aliens decide who gets to mount you first? They draw straws or just fight for you?”
Dawn took a seat beside Celestia. “And how hard do they hit if you fight back?”
Tezhila’s cheeks darkened as she looked at Celestia and Sebera. “Don’t fight back.” Her voice was soft, her eyes cast downward. “Don’t ever fight back.”
Marcy’s attention was drawn to that scar on the side of Tezhila’s neck. Is that how she got it? Had one of the brutes here in camp done it when she didn’t lay down and submit like a good little slave?
Dawn looked over Marcy’s shoulders and grinned. “I wouldn’t fight that one.”
For some reason, Marcy knew who Dawn was talking about without even looking. There was only one man—alien—here that would cause the current look on her face and that was the warlord.
Dawn continued to smile as she stared across camp and something in her eyes made her look arrogant, as if looking at him was enough to claim him.
Heat rushed from Marcy’s head clean to her toes at the thought. She turned, just to make sure, and saw the warlord talking to Vikram and several other aliens. Dawn was still staring at him when she turned back around and the heat intensified.
“The big one with golden skin, who is he?”
Sebera glanced at her before saying, “That is the warlord.”
“The warlord?” Dawn’s smile widened before she took another bite of her turnip root. “Well, if you’re going to have to earn your keep on your back, you might as well do it on your own terms, right? And that one, I won’t mind being turned into a plaything for.”
The heat was starting to scald Marcy’s flesh as Dawn continued to stare at the warlord. The urge to tell her to stay away from him was like a living thing crawling up her throat but she bit her tongue to keep from saying anything. She had no claim on him. Hell, other than her sleeping in his bed, you wouldn’t think her status was any more or less than the other females in camp.
This must be how Jityria felt and for the first time since the warlord brought her to camp, she felt a twinge of pain on her behalf. It sucked watching the guy you liked hitting on someone else. She knew firsthand how it felt as the object of her affection in college hadn’t even known she was alive. Watching him with his girlfriend had made her hate the girl for no other reason than she had what she wanted.
She sighed and looked for Jityria and found her by the warlord’s hut, carrying in those rocks they kept in a bowl that seemed to burn orange all day long. Jityria did everything she could think of to make the warlord see her but he never did. To him, she was just another female in camp who meant nothing to him and for the first time since meeting her, Marcy felt something other than anger at the way Jityria treated her.
Dawn continued to ask questions until Marcy’s head started to pound an
d she silently thanked Jityria when she called them to come serve the aliens their evening meal. The new humans got their first taste of the aliens here in camp and Dawn soon found that her attitude wouldn’t be appreciated or tolerated and nearly came up swinging when she was picked up halfway through the meal and carried toward the huts screaming.
Marcy looked at the warlord as Dawn’s screams grew but he never moved or gave any indication the behavior was unusual. She stared a hole in the side of his head, her jaw clenched so tight she wondered if her teeth would crack from the strain by the time he finally looked at her.
He leaned forward, folding his arms over the top of the table. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”
She looked in the direction Dawn had been carried, her angry shouts growing in volume before abruptly ending.
Krista was on the other side of the table, her face so white she wondered if she was moments away from passing out. The girl knew what was in store for her, everyone here did, and no one was going to do a damn thing about it. “Are you going to let him get away with that?”
“Get away with what?”
She pointed a finger in the direction Dawn had been carried. “That!”
The warlord looked back over his shoulder briefly before meeting her gaze again and by the expression on his face, was unfazed by Dawn’s screams. As if hearing them was so natural, it didn’t warrant his attention.
Was he really going to just sit there while that brute raped her?
He studied her face in that way he sometimes did and she realized that yes, he was going to just sit there and do nothing. The knowledge made something in her chest rip wide open, anger heating every inch of her flesh until she felt ready to combust. Her ears started ringing, the laughter of the others at the table screaming through her head. She clenched her jaw. It’s not worth it, Marcy. Just let it go.