Savage Lands (Savage Lands #1)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “Sister.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper and broke over the syllables like a wave breaking against rocks. “Tried to save her from…testing…Savage Lands…there’s…don’t trust…” His eyes fluttered closed, his face streaked in agony.

  “Don’t trust what?”

  “Kill. Me.” The demand barely made it to my ears.

  My chin wobbling, I covered his mouth and nose. He tried to jerk his head, but it didn’t take much for him to drift into a forever sleep, his limbs going lax.

  Sitting back on my heels, surrounded by dead bodies, I heard the boos of the mob, the viewers clearly unhappy with the way Rodriguez died. It wasn’t cruel or violent enough to be considered entertainment.

  Blood covered the arena, drenching my clothes in death. But it wasn’t enough.

  “I’m sorry.” I leaned over him, my hands touching him.

  His bulk jolted under my palms, his lashes fluttering. Fuck me! I jerked away, air clipping the back of my throat, but when I peered at him, he laid still, empty of life, as if I imagined it.

  Death took a while for the body to understand, but it still had my heart thumping.

  Slowly, I stood, but my muscles struggled to hold me. Tossing down the stake in revulsion, I turned around and marched to the tunnel, ignoring the crowd booing and hissing at me.

  If you didn’t come in a murderer, this place turned you into one.

  “Prisoner 85221!” A man’s voice formally called for me down the passage as I moved out of the tunnel to the main prison area. Footsteps pounded behind me. “Stop.”

  “Leave me alone.” I could feel myself breaking with every step, the reality of what I had done tearing into my soul.

  “I can’t.” Zander caught up with me, his hands clutching my arms and halting me. “You are still a prisoner.” Zander stepped closer. “And not a very popular one right now.”

  “Why?” I exclaimed, tears clamoring up my throat. “I gave them everything they wanted. I killed two people tonight. One of whom was a close acquaintance of mine. What more do they want? Just because I didn’t dagger Rodriguez? I still killed him.”

  “You are also General Markos’s daughter.”

  “I’m not his daughter.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You are close enough. You are important to him, which makes you important to his enemies. Markos’s name is venom within these walls. You are not safe anymore.”

  “Was I ever?” I lifted my head, my gaze challenging his. “From the moment I walked in, I have been singled out far more than anyone else.”

  “That’s because there is something about you. Good or bad. Admiration or hate. You are a magnet for them both.” One hand dropped away from my arm, cupping my dirty and bloodied cheek gently. “The instant you walked up, I felt it. A lure. The scales tipping one way or the other. I just didn’t expect the side I would end up on.”

  He was so close, his warm consoling hand on my face while the sounds of cheers and chants came from the pit, signaling the final fight of the night. Lost, grieving, and barely standing, I longed for safety. Comfort. To not feel or think.

  He leaned in closer, his breath grazing my lips. I wanted him to kiss me, to lose myself in pleasure. To forget all the pain and ugliness. He was a warm body who seemed to care about me.

  “Brexley,” he whispered my name, his mouth touching mine.

  The clang of a cell door closing wailed down the corridor, jolting us back. Reality dumped down on me, the realization of what I was about to do to forget the horrors of the night.

  I had sex with Aron, let him be my first because of heartbreak and longing for someone else. I’d known him since the age of thirteen, and I had brutally killed him, even as he pleaded for me to stop. And here I was, his gore still warm on my clothes, about to make out with my guard. What kind of person was I?

  Suddenly, all I tasted was my victims’ blood. All I felt were their spirits clinging to me, my skin itching so badly I wanted to crawl out of it.

  “I need a shower.” Emotions flooded my eyes and heart. I turned away, heading for the bathroom. Zander followed me, where another two guards waited.

  I shot Zander a glance.

  “Extra protection.” He answered my unspoken question. “What better time to attack you.”

  Me, naked in the shower, was the most vulnerable time.

  “Can I have a moment?” I asked, the walls around me thinning. “Can you stand outside the door?”

  “I’m sorry.” Zander shook his head. “You can’t be left unattended anymore.”

  My lips squeezed until I knew they blanched, holding back a sob that swirled on the back of my tongue.

  I moved for the shower. A new uniform and undergarments were laid out, with a less worn towel, unused soap, and shampoo with conditioner in it. Those were my perks for killing.

  Conditioner and fresh soap for two lives.

  Undressing, I let my soiled garments fall to the floor and stepped underneath the stream of water, trying to ignore the eyes on me. I resented them for peeling away another layer in a moment I needed to myself.

  The water streamed down on me as I pressed my forehead against the cool tile. I fought back the sobs working up from my gut. I wouldn’t let the guards see me break down, not even the horse-shifter, Zander.

  I couldn’t find the energy to move, to lift my arms to my hair, or scrub the blood off my skin. The dirt and stain went so much deeper.

  Energy prickled at the back of my neck.

  “Get. Out.” A deep timbre thundered through the room, jerking my head around with a jolt. My heart and breath came to a stuttering pause.

  Oh, my gods…

  Warwick, covered in blood and dirt, stood a few steps inside the door. His dark hair was down and wild around his face, an open wound slashed over his cheek, dried blood at the corner of his mouth. What was he doing here? His fight had started less than ten minutes ago, but by the dirt and red liquid glinting off his uniform, it was already over.

  Meaning he had killed one of the top fighters…in minutes.

  His presence in this room also confused me. He had never been in this bathroom before. As far as I knew, he had his own. So why was he here? Asking me to leave?

  The guards pushed off the walls, but none of them said a word, staring at him cautiously.

  “I. Said. Get. Out.” His intense gaze was on me, but his demand was intended for the guards, not me.

  “Prisoner—” A guard stepped forward to argue, but Warwick snapped his head toward him, and the guard slunk back, swallowing nervously.

  It was as if the world flipped. A prisoner had more power over the people guarding him.

  “Farkas, you know we can’t—” Zander stepped up to him.

  Warwick puffed out his chest, crossing his arms, not bothering to respond, his power throbbing through the room with domination.

  The two lesser sentries looked to Zander for direction, my alarmed gaze also on him. I waited for him to say no, to protect me as he said he would.

  Conflict flashed over the horse-shifter, but then he sighed, putting his hands on his hips, and dipped his head in acceptance.

  What?!

  The three guards filed toward the door without a single word. My mouth dropped as I stared after Zander, unable to find my voice.

  “We’ll be right outside.” Zander glanced back at me, concern wrinkling his forehead before he turned around and departed. Leaving me alone.

  What the fuck? What happened to the guards protecting me?

  Fright held me in place like a cornered animal. Did he plan to assault me? Kill me? Finish the job two others couldn’t? Was that why he was so irritated earlier?

  Brexley Kovacs was still alive, which must be rectified.

  Emotionless, Warwick watched me for another moment, tension billowing through the room. His gaze never lowered down my naked figure, though phantom fingers touched my skin like they were tracing over my curves, sweeping down my legs and up to my breasts, my nipples har
dening, my breath snagging.

  Brexley! Anger at myself burned in my throat. This man was probably about to harm me in some cruel way, and I was fantasizing about his touch.

  Keeping my chin high and jaw locked, fatigue shook my legs, but I didn’t cower, just faced my death head-on.

  Instead of lunging for me, his hands went to the bottom of his shirt, ripping the filthy battle-worn fabric over his head, tossing it onto the ground.

  Holy. Shit.

  I blinked, my insides locking up. Fear. Shock.

  Desire.

  He wasn’t some pretty boy type, and I’m not even sure he would be grouped in the rugged category. Warwick Farkas was in a whole league of his own, everything about him severe and overwhelming.

  His thick, corded shoulders and arms were the kind you could picture bending a car in half or wrapping around you like a shield. His torso and chest were carved with muscle and decorated with deep scars and tattoos, a timeline of his life. Symbols and pattern tattoos scrolled down his arms, and one started at his side and slipped below his pants line. I couldn’t decipher the meaning of any of them, but there was no denying they were sexy as hell. He was brutal and sensual, terrifying and captivating.

  His cool gaze remained on me while he shoved his pants down, kicking them to the side, along with his boots. Completely naked, he straightened to his full height with no hint of inhibition, displaying his massive physique.

  The tattoo on his side curved over his ass and down to his thigh, drawing my gaze with it.

  Fuuuuckkkkmmmmeee.

  My mind blanked.

  He stood fully erect. My gaze couldn’t stop from moving to his deep V-line, my eyes trailing down. Even full of terror, my body responded.

  I had seen a lot of naked guys at the academy: fit, toned, ripped, and in all shapes and sizes. I thought I had seen it all—but nothing, I mean nothing—prepared me for Warwick Farkas.

  Chapter 22

  He sauntered toward me, my body and eyes tracking him as my heart thumped in my chest. But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  He strode right up to me, his toes nudging into mine. Craning his neck down, he loomed over me, the heat from him slinking over my skin, wrapping around it, dipping between my legs. He watched me for a moment before he stepped past me, his shoulder grazing mine as he dipped his head under my shower stream, his hand brushing the water off his face, running through his hair.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” I whispered, my voice breathy and nervous.

  “What does it look like?” he rumbled, tilting his head back. The water trailed down his face, over his lips. Every word he spoke, no matter loud or quiet, raked over me like gravel until it turned into liquid, dripping slowly down my limbs, seeping under my skin and into my bones.

  Hot and burning.

  I had never met anyone like him, who held the world in his palm. No fae or human could resist his lure, and I knew it wasn’t magic. Not in here. It was just him.

  I forced my eyes forward, away from him, terrified of why he was here, but I couldn’t deny how aware I was of his naked body moving next to me. My skin screamed with his nearness, fixated on the way the water dripped down his physique. “Don’t you have your own shower?”

  “Yes.” Dunking his head under the cascade again, his arm brushed mine, jolting me. A touch from him was similar to lightning ripping through my nerves. He grabbed the shampoo off the shelf, his gaze lowering as he poured the creamy gel into his palm and peered over at me.

  “Your fight is already over?” I stared at the drops of water clinging to his long, thick lashes, which were so dark they almost appeared like eyeliner. “You can kill that fast?”

  “When I need to.” His tongue slid over his bottom lip, swiping up drops of liquid.

  I swallowed. “You needed to?”

  He peered at me, not answering, handing me the bottle of shampoo. The beads of water glided over his mouth, taunting me as they rolled over his shoulders and chest, to his stomach, moving lower, inviting me to catch them with my tongue, to taste the salt on his skin. The urgent need to rise up on my toes and suck off the water, skimming my mouth over every inch of his skin, to take him into my mouth and taste him on my tongue, wracked through my muscles, pulling me to him like a magnet.

  I jerked back.

  What the hell?

  His brow furrowed with confusion, but the expression cleared before I even could decipher it. Running his soapy hands through his hair, he tipped his head under the cascade.

  I watched him for a minute, realizing I had no fight left in me. Not for this. Switching off my brain, I gave in to the bizarre moment. Dumping the soap in my hand, I followed the same actions, our forms moving around each other as we cleaned the blood and dirt from ourselves, reddish water pooling at our feet, sliding down the drain.

  We didn’t touch, but I swore I could feel him glide and slither over my skin, sparking desire through my nerves. Losing myself, I shut my eyes, my senses heightening as the water pummeled my skin, the heat from his body skating over me feeling like hands.

  Somewhere in my head, I knew I should be disturbed that this brutal and enigmatic legend was giving me comfort, soothing and centering me without a word or touch. His nearness made me feel I wasn’t alone. He was someone who might really understand what I was going through.

  I opened my eyes, staring up at him. He watched me with a guarded expression, his chest heaving like he had been running.

  “Why are you here?” I muttered.

  “Because…” he muttered, his gaze heavy. “I know where you are about to go. The darkness will seep into you, blackening your soul if you let it.” His voice was rough, oozing down my neck, making me shudder. “What you had to do out there? Death demands payment from you as well. Compensation for living.” His words pierced my chest with truth, a truth few of us comprehended.

  No one left the arena without paying in some way.

  “He was your friend?” he asked gruffly.

  I was fucking in love with you. Aron’s voice echoed in my mind, his pleading expression at the end.

  I nodded, my throat closing. I wouldn’t have exactly called him my friend, but I had a bond with Aron that no one else had. He hadn’t been the only guy I had been intimate with, but he had been my first.

  Without warning, my walls crumbled. The grief I had been holding back surfaced with a wretched sob, curling me forward. My hand slapped over my mouth, but the dam had broken, letting my anguish flow out.

  Not many had ever seen me cry, only Caden after I lost my father and a few times when the teenage emotions got too much. But the last man in the world who should see me break ripped at my barrier, and I let it fall.

  Silent sobs sucked out the air in my lungs. Grabbing for the wall, my spine curved as heartache ripped and clawed at my chest. Trapped behind my ribs, it couldn’t burst through and relieve me of the agony.

  The misery, guilt, grief, disgust, and hate swallowed me whole. I slid down the wall and wrapped my arms around my legs. I let the agony plunge out of me and down the drain.

  “I can’t...” I gasped for air, my nails scraping at my chest, needing to release the pain, sensing the darkness slipping into my head like fog. He was right; death had come to claim another huge chunk of my humanity.

  His enormous physique crouched in front of me, consuming every inch of space around me, my gaze not able to avoid his massive cock, mingling thick desire along with my sorrow. He clutched my chin, pulling it up so I had to look at him, forcing me to suck in sharply. In that moment, I felt no panic or grief.

  Or pain.

  It was instant. Relief and serenity poured down on me like honey, soothing and thick, balancing my tipped universe.

  “You can,” he growled. “And you will.”

  The water rained down on us, his gaze drilling into me. Not a flicker of emotion showed on his face telling me what was going through his mind, but his aura pressed into me, engulfing and oddly empowering.

 
“You heard me earlier? In the pit?” The question stumbled off my tongue without thought, my tone curious and vulnerable, my gaze searching for something I couldn’t even name.

  His jaw twitched, his forehead furrowing. His fingers slid from my face as he abruptly stood. Turning, he strode out of the room, completely naked and wet.

  I sat there under the cool stream, staring into the vacant space he left. Zander and the two other guards rushed in, taking me in.

  “Are you okay?” Zander started to walk toward me, but he stopped right at the shower line, anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

  Was I all right? Far from it, but not for the reason I had walked in with.

  I had the most disturbing sensation of feeling centered with him near and then off kilter the moment he left, a fear that something was coming…and I had no idea how to fight it or how to prepare.

  “Die, HDF bitch.” A hiss crept up the back of my neck, and I jerked my head over my shoulder. Nothing but blank expressions met me, the regular morning zombies staggering forward, no one looking suspect. Blinking, I faced back around hearing another threat murmured near me, lacing fear down my spine. As I limped through the entrance of the bathroom, the figures bottlenecked at the doorway, where we shuffled in like sheep, and suddenly stopped. Bodies slammed into me, shoulders ramming me, elbows knocked me around with force as whispered threats muttered in my ear.

  “I will kill you, Kovacs.”

  “Stop!” Still aching from the fight, I bobbed around, trying to stay upright, panic curling in my throat. Yellow, blue, red, and gray uniforms danced around my periphery. Hands grabbed for me, touching me while some yanked painfully at my ponytail, bouncing me around.

  Grunting, I tried to shove through the throng with any energy I could muster, my bones screaming in protest. I needed a rest from the abuse of the night before. The crowd only crunched in closer, getting angrier and braver.

  There would be no special treatment for winning; my identity changed everything. Now I would be the prize. Kill the ward of General Markos—you win.