Warlord's Mate

by Lily Graison

  To her horrifying disbelief, the orange alien looked almost scared.

  The other three aliens scurried back to the planks when skull face stopped beside them and looked their way. The orange things forehead wrinkled enough for Marcy to think he was glowering at the newcomer and to her amazement, he shifted on his feet and looked between her and the newest challenger. Long minutes ticked by before he bared his teeth. With a loud roaring growl, he turned and walked away.

  Skull face was the only one left in the ring. He stared at the orange beast until he’d joined the others, then looked at her. From here, she could tell he was wearing a mask. The only thing she could see of his face was his eyes and the lower half of his bearded chin. A headpiece attached to the cloak held the horns but the rest of him, every bulging muscle, was him. At least he looked human—in an overly exaggerated Dwayne Johnson kind of way.

  He took two steps toward the platform and held up his arm. Marcy could only imagine the fresh hell awaiting her at the other end of that outstretched hand. His gaze slid over her body, pausing briefly at her breasts before going lower and stopping. The need to cover herself burned her face and intensified when he finally lifted his head and locked eyes with her.

  The guard grabbed her arms and jerked them from the metal spike in the wall “Let me see you spit on him, human.” He pulled her across the platform and jerked her to a stop inches from that outstretched hand. “I only wish I could be there to see how he breaks you.” He laughed and lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “Welcome to Prison Moon One, bitch. You belong to the Warlord, now.”

  The bastard threw her off the platform. Marcy hit the ground with a jarring thump, her face slamming into the ground while her teeth clanked together so hard she bit her tongue. She cursed under her breath and sat up with a groan, glancing at the alien who’d won her by doing nothing but standing there looking menacing. He was staring down at her, some unreadable emotion showing in his strangely colored eyes.

  She spit blood from her mouth and turned her head to glare at the guard. He laughed and jumped to the ground.

  Her alien owner moved so fast she barely tracked him as he grabbed the guard, one large hand closing over the side of the guard's head before slamming him to the ground beside her. The warlord, as the guard had called him, leaned down, pressing the side of the guard’s face into the dirt and said, “You do not touch what is mine.”

  She’d seen many things reflected in the guards eyes since she’d been here but genuine fear had never been one of them. The guard’s eyes were wide and locked on her, his face a funny shade of red.

  “Apologize.”

  Marcy looked at the warlord, then back down to the guard. The fear she’d seen in his eyes moments ago bled into pure hatred, his face turning a brighter shade of red as the warlord pressed harder on the side of his head until the words, “I’m sorry,” wheezed out past his squeezed lips. As quick as the warlord had taken the guard down, he let him go and stood to his full height. He glanced at her then turned and walked away, heading across the arena without a word.

  Another guard stepped into her line of sight as the one on the ground mumbled something under his breath and stood. The new guard grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, then reached for her bound wrists. Marcy winced as the metal cuffs once again bit into her flesh. The pain was enough for her to almost be glad they were being removed but no cuffs meant she was officially someone’s property.

  The warlord was now near the arena gates. As the guard worked the locks on her cuffs, he whispered, “Stay two steps behind him and speak to no one but him. You are the warlord’s now. No one exists to you but him. Got it?”

  When she didn’t answer, he squeezed her bloody wrist. She winced in pain and looked at him. She’d not seen this guard before. He was bald like the rest of them were and had patches of scales on his skin but something in his eyes said he wasn’t like the others. “Am I to walk out naked? Your asshole friend ripped my dress off.”

  “Yes. Like I said, you belong to the warlord now. Take nothing from anyone but him unless he says otherwise.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No.” He pulled the cuffs off her wrists. “Now go. He’s the last person on Prison Moon One you want to anger.” He didn’t wait for a reply, just turned her and shoved her in the direction of the gate.

  Marcy could see the warlord walking down the narrow road between the ramshackle buildings outside the arena. He looked to be in no hurry but his stride was wide. Catching up with him meant running, and she’d be damned if she ran after her future rapist.

  “Don’t be stupid,” the guard said. “And don’t think for a moment he won’t make you suffer for defying him.”

  “I’m not afraid of dying.”

  The guard laughed. “The warlord doesn’t punish by killing. He’ll make you suffer and enjoy every second of your torment. Now go before he teaches you to obey in front of everyone watching.”

  As much as she loathed to do it, Marcy sighed and started walking. The arena was quiet as she made the long walk—naked—to the gates. The desire to cover herself was strong, but she saw little point in it now. Everyone had already seen everything she’d try to hide.

  Snickers and taunts filled the air with every step she took. The orange hulking alien who had scared most of the others off when they entered the ring to fight was watching her, his expression filled with anger. He was pissed he hadn’t won her, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted her that bad or if it was because the warlord had claimed her with nothing more than a look.

  As she passed the last of the aliens on the planks, the noise they made faded as she stepped outside the arena and the gates closed behind her. Two of the small camera orbs that recorded everything that took place here on Prison Moon One flew into her line of sight. It stopped to hover right in front of her face. She swatted it away and looked for the warlord. He was near the tree line and even though she said she wasn’t running after him, she jogged to catch up. As much as going with him scared the shit out of her, the thought of staying behind for someone else—or many someones—to grab, terrified her more.

  Marcy kept a slight distance between them. Her bravado from the arena was absent now that adrenaline wasn’t coursing through her veins. The warlord never acknowledged her, never looked to see if she was there and Marcy watched him walk as she followed behind him. He was a big son of a bitch with wide shoulders. If his behavior back in the arena was any sign, he had a surly attitude, too.

  They stepped into the shelter of the trees a few moments later and he still didn’t look back. She wondered if she could slow down and let him get ahead of her again and make a run for it.

  She studied her surroundings. The trees were sparse. Hiding out in here would be almost impossible and it wouldn’t take him long to find her if she decided to make a run for it. Not that she had anywhere to go. Finding Sara would be impossible. If that had in fact been Sara she’d seen earlier at the arena gates, she had no idea which way she’d gone when she left and besides, she was still naked and with her luck, she’d run into a whole mess of horny aliens who’d take turns with her. If what the guard said was true, then she belonged to the brute in front of her and he didn’t look like the sharing type. They were both shitty choices, but she’d take one rapist over many any day.

  The walk through the woods would have been pleasant under other circumstances. The foliage was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Strange flowers dotted the ground, bushes with long fronds of red, purple and orange filled the area and on several of the trees, huge ear-like things that reminded her of fungus was growing on the bark.

  Leaves littered the ground along with a small spiky plant she found by stepping on one. Her shout hadn’t even stirred the warlord’s attention. He was still walking ahead of her, silent, his furred cloak and horned headpiece still in place. It wouldn’t have killed him to wrap her in the mangy looking thing. She could only imagine how heavy it was but anything woul
d have been better than traipsing around naked.

  A twig snapped behind her. She turned her head to see three other aliens trailing them. They were spread out in a wide arc, their focus on her. Were these three going to fight the warlord for her? Shit, I hope not.

  She faced forward again, staring at the back of the warlords head. “We’re being followed.” He didn’t so much as flinch. “Three big ass aliens about a hundred yards back.” Still nothing. Marcy looked behind her again. They were closer now. “They don’t look friendly, either.” When he still refused to acknowledge her, she searched the ground for something to use as a weapon, grabbing a small piece of wood a few moments later. It wasn’t big or heavy but it might be enough to brain one of the assholes if they tried to jump her.

  They walked for what seemed like hours, the three behind them still keeping their distance and she began to wonder if they weren’t with the warlord. They came no closer, and he didn’t seem worried about them, but she tightened her grip on the make-shift weapon in her hands, anyway.

  After stepping on what seemed like every sharp object in the forest, her feet felt like they were on fire by the time the ground cover grew thick, the vegetation soft and cushiony beneath her. Flowers and colorful plants grew in large clusters and it would have been beautiful had it not been for the dozens of long poles jutting from the ground. She came to a stop when she saw the tops were adorned with an array of skulls. Some were nothing more than old bones while others appeared disgustingly fresh. Chunks of meat hung from them and she gagged when she caught the first whiff of rotting flesh. Moans and whispers filled the air and her imagination told her it was the ghosts of those hanging on the pikes.

  The forest was dark here, very little sunlight penetrating the tree limbs. It made her wonder how the plants grew without sunlight. The vegetation along the ground was calf-high in some areas but large spots were barren. As she continued to follow the warlord, she saw why the ground was bare in those random spots. Deep holes had been dug, and she glanced inside one as she passed by it. Several sets of eyes stared up at her. There were people in them—aliens of varying species, all of them dirty and half-starved. She’d found the source of the moans and whispers.

  A large clearing sat up ahead, small, crude buildings and tents dotted along the edge of the trees in a wide circle. Aliens in every shape and size filled the open area in the center of the camp and the moment they were spotted, everyone looked their way.

  The warlord didn’t stop walking until he reached the center of the dirt circle next to a large fire pit. Marcy hesitated at the edge of the trees. Walking naked through the woods with three aliens watching her ass sway back and forth had been bad enough but walking out in front of all these aliens into what looked like a small village would be as humiliating as it had been when that guard ripped her dress off. She wasn’t sure she had enough false bravado in her to persuade this many aliens to leave her alone.

  The crack and pop of twigs filled the silence. A look over her shoulder showed the three who’d followed them were right behind her now. This close up, she could see they were all the same species. Their skin was a deep, royal blue and while they stood on two legs and had two arms, they didn’t look human-like the warlord did. These three had unusually long legs, their necks long and slender as well. Their eyes were big yellows circles on their faces and it didn’t look as if they had any eyelids.

  The one in the middle reached out and snatched the piece of wood from her hands, her palms stinging as the bark ripped into her flesh. He tossed the stick away and gave her a push. The other two didn’t wait to see if she would move or not. They each grabbed one of her arms and ushered her out of the trees and into the clearing.

  As she expected them to, everyone in camp turned and looked at her.

  A quick glance at those gathered and the fear she felt grew as they led her to the warlord. At least forty sets of eyes turned in her direction and every one she saw gave her a look from head to toe, then back down again. She was ready to beg for clothes as the two holding her arms drew her to a stop in front of the warlord.

  Most of the aliens staring back at her were male, but she saw a few females—none of which looked human—standing near the wooden buildings that lined the circle. They gave her a quick glance before returning to whatever it was they were doing. Them paying her no more attention than they had was telling. The females here did as told and nothing more.

  Turning from the females, she stared out at the sea of faces staring back at her and she was afraid to even imagine what was about to happen. What did they do with new females here? Pass them around so everyone got a chance to have a poke at them? Was she to be a reward for one of these aliens?

  No. You belong to the warlord. The guard had said as much. But—she was his to do with as he pleased which meant, if he wanted her to fuck every single alien in this camp, she’d spend the rest of her life on her back.

  Misery settled into her gut like lead. Marcy felt the warlord, more than she saw him, move closer. He was right behind her and she sucked in a breath moments before he grabbed her, one large hand gripping her throat, the other wrapping around her, his hand sliding down to cup her between the legs. She was pulled back against his chest, held so tightly against him she felt close to suffocating as her heart pounded like a caged bird behind her ribs. So much for being brave. If the big bastard only knew she was seconds away from pissing herself, he’d move his hand.

  The warlord’s hold around her neck loosened as he slid his hand up to cup her chin, grasping it and turning her head to expose the side of her neck. Just when she started to wonder what he was doing, he lowered his head and bit her. She screamed, pain shooting through her neck as two sharp pinpricks pierced her skin and as the pain intensified, her focus on his teeth inside her flesh shifted as the hand between her legs moved, one slender finger sliding in to press against her clit.

  Chapter Two

  Marcy’s body jerked as the bite grew deeper and the warlord’s hold on her tightened. The hand between her legs pressed harder against her flesh as he pulled her against him and she’d bet money the hardness against her butt wasn’t her imagination. He was getting off on this.

  When he pulled away long moments later, she felt his teeth slide from her skin. Blood dribbled down her neck, the small beads rolling down her chest as the warlord dragged his face up into her hair, his deep intake of breath the only sound he made until he lifted his head and said, “She is mine. Touch her and it will be the last thing you do.”

  He waited for no response, instead, pulled his hand from between her legs, running it up the length of her belly and grazing the underside of her right breast before turning her in the opposite direction. With a hand on the back of her neck, he guided her to a large wooden structure nestled under a cluster of trees. A long leather flap over the doorway moved aside before they reached it and he guided her inside before following. When her eyes adjusted to the low light, Marcy scanned the room and saw a female standing beside the doorway.

  The alien was about the same height as she herself was, which, to hear the kids she went to school with, was freakishly tall. At six-foot-two, she towered over almost everyone until she’d arrived on Prison Moon One. Aliens were on the tall side and for the first time in her life, she felt short when standing next to most of them.

  Marcy flicked a glance at the warlord when he stepped around her. He made her feel the way she assumed those short girls with tall boyfriends must feel. He was huge and had to be close to seven foot. She’d not met many men she had to crane her neck to look up at but him, she did.

  He stopped by they wall where several hooks were protruding and pulled the face mask off, then pushed the horned headpiece off his head, letting it fall down his back before removing the furred cape. When he pulled it away from his body, she got her first good look at him—sort of. Impossibly wide shoulders held several wide straps that crossed over his back. His skin appeared golden in the light coming through the open doorway.
His hair was straight, nearly black, and fell well past his shoulder blades and when he moved, his hair sliding across his back, she could see several white lines, scarring from old wounds if she had to guess.

  Muscles rippled under his skin as he hung the cape on one of the hooks, the end catching on a scabbard attached to his hips by a belt. She assumed it held a blade, the thick leather it was in wide and curved slightly on the end. She let her gaze fall down to his butt when he untangled the cape from the scabbard. It was much more appealing than it should have been.

  He turned and looked at her, his gaze traveling down the length of her body before slowly coming back up. She ignored her racing pulse and gave him the same inspection. More scars were dotted across his chest and stomach and a particularly large one ran down the length of his right arm, drawing attention to his biceps, which were huge, like the rest of him.

  The criss-crossing straps across his chest reminded her of the Roman gladiators from Earths past, the blades tucked into the straps telling her with a glance he was dangerous. He looked fierce, and she’d bet money he’d earned the title of warlord. Those battle scars he wore the only proof she needed.

  Without the mask, she could see his entire face and knew she was in trouble with only a glance. He wasn’t terrible to look at, even with all that facial hair. She’d never been into the whole bearded mountain-man look that was so popular when she’d been abducted but had to admit, this guy made it look good, which meant that major character flaw she had—equating good looks with good intentions—was once again going to blindside her and leave her in a whole mess of trouble.

  She didn’t know why she did it, when most people thought the exact opposite. They knew the good-looking ones were usually assholes, but not her. Nope, she saw a hot guy smile at her and instantly thought—he’s the one. And he usually was. The one to rip her heart out, stomp it under his boot, then kick it in the street as he laughed at her tears and she was sure this guy—this alien—the warlord, would shred her to pieces without much effort at all.