Warlord's Mate

by Lily Graison

  The first started on her shoulder blade and ended at the middle of her back, the other ending at the middle of her right butt cheek. Both oozed blood and she’d never be able to clean them properly.

  Looking around the hut, the misery she’d finally thought she was rid of came back ten fold. She hated this place. And even though she was surrounded by people, she was lonely. She wanted Sara.

  She frowned when her friend’s face wasn’t what popped into her head. It was the warlord, and the moment she thought of him, the tears were back. This was his fault. His and Jityria’s and if she was able to move come morning, she’d find a way to leave like she’d thought of doing in the forest. She’d made it this far. She could make it further and with the warlord gone, she had the perfect opportunity.

  With her being hurt, no one would suspect she’d even try to leave now and as much as Jityria hated her, even if she was seen, she’d probably never say a word to anyone. If she wasn’t there, then Jityria would have the warlord all to herself and after being tricked by the hateful shrew and beaten for it, she didn’t give a damn what happened. The only thing they could do to her that was worse than what they’d done today would be to kill her and at the moment, death would be better than living with this pain. The worst part was—had the warlord been here, he probably would have killed her if for no other reason than to prove a point.

  If there was one thing she’d learned over the weeks she’d been here, it was that what he said goes and those who disobey are used as examples to the others. Her punishment probably wouldn’t have stopped at only two slashes from a whip. With him wielding it, he would have probably flayed the skin right off of her.

  So why did she still want him to come back and protect her? And why did the thought of leaving him make something in her chest clench painfully?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The first thing Jorrick noticed when he stepped out of the trees and into camp was the look of shock on the faces of his men. More than one of them looked surprised to see him. He supposed if any of them had prior knowledge of the attack waiting for him on their latest excursion, then him sauntering into camp probably was unexpected.

  His blood ran hot, fury racing through his veins as the entire fight flashed back across his mind. Cowards not brave enough to challenge him in open battle had tried to kill him in his sleep. Unfortunately for them, he was a light sleeper.

  He glanced around camp for Mar-see. The fact he was even looking for her made him more cranky than he already was. The moment he’d killed the two stupid enough to come after him, he’d wondered if someone here in camp was trying to take over and his thoughts had gone to her immediately. Other than a few odd looks, nothing looked any different than when he left.

  The small party of men he was with all went their separate ways and he searched the faces of those in camp for Darqu. Vikram had assured him Darqu would keep the camp running efficiently and from the look of things, he’d been right. If there had been an attempted coup, Darqu had put a stop to it. Things looked normal.

  Heading toward the cooking pits, he saw Jityria, who stopped as if she wanted to say something to him. Jorrick waved her off with a promise to talk later and kept walking. Word of his arrival would travel fast now that he was back early and the problems he usually faced would be dumped in his lap before he could wash the stink off of him, Jityria trying to talk to him all the proof of that he needed.

  Cayen was nowhere to be seen when he stepped into the clearing but something was cooking. He sampled bits of it before grabbing a handful of the lumpy seeds that were in abundance near the pond and tossed them in his mouth before searching for something else.

  Leaving in search for Aris had done nothing but frustrate him more than he’d already been. They’d searched the entire perimeter of his territory and found nothing. A small group had ventured into Allok’s border to look further in, another small group heading further out toward the warlord Othrid’s territories.

  The plan had been to stay until they knew one way or the other if Aris was dead or alive. He’d intended to be gone for a full rotation of the moon but less than a handful of suns had risen before he felt the need to turn around and come back. He wasn’t able to explain it but it was as if some invisible—tug—was urging him to return and he knew Mar-see was the driving force behind it.

  He’d nearly driven himself insane wondering what she was doing and his distraction caused him to make stupid mistakes and that made him look weak. She made him weak, and he needed to fix that problem once and for all. She’d consumed his thoughts for long enough and it was time to put her in the hut with the other females and leave her there.

  Or leave her in the forest as bait for Allok as you intended to do.

  He nibbled on everything he saw until the hunger making his stomach grumble eased and he wasn’t so ravenous. He washed it all down with a cup full of swoquin, the drink burning all the way to his gut but telling Mar-see to gather her things and go to the females hut would take a bit of liquid courage. Watching her walk out his door would take more. As much as he wanted her out of his head, something inside him raged at the thought and he wasn’t sure why. It was as if some—force—drew him to her and if he didn’t know better, he would swear she did hold some sort of magic. He felt obsessed with her and he hated every second of it. No one, especially a female, should hold such power over him but she did—and it had to stop.

  Cayen walked back into the clearing as he set his cup down. He looked surprised to see him, his eyes a bit too wide. “Warlord. We didn’t expect you back so quickly.”

  “Nor had I planned to return so soon.” He knew they’d all want an explanation as to why he’d come back so soon but he owed them nothing. He turned and headed back into camp.

  The commotion from those he saw seemed peculiar, but he ignored them and headed to his hut. If he didn’t get Mar-see out and settled into the females hut now, he’d talk himself out of it.

  The leather flap over the door was shut when he approached. He pushed it aside and saw her near the back wall at one of the tables. She was slow to turn her head toward him and like everyone else, her eyes widened when she saw him. Why was everyone so surprised he was back? Had something happened? Did those in camp turn into ruthless barbarians the moment his back was turned?

  She was wearing one of his shirts again. He hated how much he enjoyed seeing her in them. How knowing she wore nothing underneath it made him want to grab the bottom of the material and pull it up slowly, revealing every inch of that creamy skin until those fire-red curls between her legs came into view.

  He scowled when he realized he was doing it again, romanticizing the notion of having her for himself when she was brought here for no other reason than to get back at Allok.

  Commotion outside his door brought his head around. “Whatever it is, it will wait.”

  “This ca —

  “I said it will wait!”

  Whoever it was at his door left as quickly as they came, their mumbled words growing faint as they walked away.

  He crossed the hut to the table he kept his weapons on and removed the bandolier of knives, then unhooked the long blade at his hip and set it down. Mar-see had turned back around and was doing—whatever it was she was doing.

  “Gather your things,” he said, his voice harsher than he’d intended. “You’ll be leaving.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder again. Something in her eyes made him pause. Some emotion he’d not yet seen before dwelled there. He almost asked what was wrong but thought better of it. She turned her head again, staring down at something in front of her.

  Her silence was unnerving. She didn’t speak to him often, but she’d never ignored his presence before. Her doing so now seemed—odd. So was the reaction of everyone in camp. Something had happened while he was gone. Something his gut told him he wasn’t going to like.

  Of all the rotten, stinking luck. Why did he have to come back now?

  Marcy ground her teeth. She
’d spent the past two days hoarding food and had planned on cutting out once the sun went down. The warlord had enough weapons to supply a small army, and she’d picked a few of the smaller knives and a long blade to take with her when she left. Now, he was back and her plans to leave this miserable place were ruined. Or maybe not. He said he wanted her to leave. Did that mean his hut or his camp?

  “You’ll be staying with the other females from now on.”

  Well, that answered that question. Marcy kept her back to him but nodded her head. She didn’t have much in the way of possessions. A few articles of clothing and the leather hides she used to cover her feet.

  “I need clean clothes and a drying cloth. When I get back from bathing, I expect you to not be here.”

  For reasons she didn’t want to examine, his words—stung. Days ago, she’d thought things between them had changed and now she realized, the only thing that changed was, he got what he’d wanted and now wanted her gone. Typical man. She should have seen it coming but as always, she picked the wrong man to get a crush on.

  She nodded again and reached across the table where his clothes were folded and winced as something in her back pulled. She was slow about gathering what he wanted but laid them on the edge of the table a few moments later.

  He didn’t reach for them and she glanced over her shoulder but kept her eyes down. “Is there something else you need, warlord?”

  He leaned his hip against the side of the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you trying not to look at me?”

  Her heart thumped in her chest. “I wasn’t aware you wanted me to.” He said nothing so she grabbed her things and tucked them against her chest. When she turned and headed across the room, he grabbed her arm to stop her.

  She liked wearing his shirts and told herself repeatedly it had nothing to do with the fact they smelled like him, but the only drawback there was to wearing them was, they were just too damn big. They always fell off one shoulder if she wasn’t careful and today was no exception, only now, it had fallen and exposed her back. The length of her hair had been pulled up and tied with a strip of cloth she’d found so the strands didn’t brush the broken skin from the whip and she knew most of her back was exposed. His sharp intake of breath a moment later told her he’d seen the cuts.

  His hold on her arm tightened before he pulled her to him, the move enough to make every inch of the skin on her back feel as if it was suddenly lit by fire. The cuts still weren’t healed. Tezhila said there was a leaf in the forest that would help the healing but Jityria had refused to let any of them go retrieve it for her.

  The warlord released her arm and grabbed the back of the shirt, pulling the material with enough force it split down the middle. He pushed her hair away, his large hand cupping the side of her neck, and he said nothing for long minutes, but his breath was released harshly enough she could actually hear him breathing.

  “Who did this?”

  The words were said in such a low tone, it almost sounded as if he’d growled them instead of spoke them.

  He took a step to the side and grabbed her chin, lifting her head. His eyes roamed her face, and she knew exactly what he saw. The disk she used for a mirror wasn’t much but it showed how haggard she looked, the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep making her pale skin even more stark. His grip on her chin tightened briefly before the pressure was gone.

  “Who did this to you?”

  She wanted to scream Jityria did it. That she’d tricked her and Darqu had punished her for it, but didn’t dare. She knew what would happen if she did. The look on his face was proof enough of that. He’d killed the snake-man alien for doing nothing more than knocking her down. For this? She didn’t even want to imagine what he’d do, and she wasn’t going to be responsible for anyone’s death even if she’d wished it on both of them a dozen times each since the day they’d whipped her.

  The silence stretched for long minutes, the warlord stepping around her again to look at her back once more. He still had one hand cupped over the side of her neck and his fingers tightened before she felt his thumb brush over her skin.

  A noise that sounded like a growl started low and grew in volume. She realized he was making the noise just as the pressure on her neck increased and he gave her a slight shove, marching her across the room and leading her outside.

  She sucked in a breath as he forced her to walk to the central fire pit and she gripped the things in her hand tighter. She was glad he’d just ripped the back of the shirt she wore so she was still covered except for her backside. When he stopped walking, he turned her and bellowed, “Who struck her?”

  The warlord’s camp was busy from sun up to sun down and one heard a variety of noises throughout the day but now—the old cliche, “you could have heard a pin drop,” was true and the silence was eerie.

  Marcy looked at the other females. For once, they didn’t have their heads down. They were watching her, the anger she’d felt over the last week evident on their faces now. It made the pain less intense knowing they were outraged on her behalf.

  The warlord cupped her chin between his fingers and lifted her face. “Who did this?” Again, she didn’t answer. His hold on her chin tightened. “I will not ask you again.” When she said nothing, he let go of her and looked to the sea of bodies in camp. “I will kill you all, one at a time until the person responsible for this is named.”

  Several gasps were heard. Marcy looked at the faces staring back at her and her stomach rolled. Would he really kill all his men to find out the name of one?

  She glanced up at him. Judging the look on his face—yes. Yes, he would.

  The alien Krista said followed her around, the one with white skin and black around his eyes, stepped forward.

  The warlord turned to face him. “Kyre? Do you know?”

  He nodded. “I tried to tell you the moment I realized you were back in camp.” Kyre looked at her, the sympathy on his face evident across the clearing. He looked away and nodded to the left. “Darqu is the one who struck her. Why the wounds were not cleaned and tended to, I do not know. Had I known they’d been left untreated, I would have seen to them myself.”

  Everyone turned as one to where Darqu stood. He’d done nothing for days but prance around camp as if he was the warlord. He’d even sat himself on the warlords chair every evening and ordered food and drink be brought to him. He’d been playing king and enjoying every minute of it.

  He wasn’t enjoying it now.

  As one, every alien standing near Darqu started walking away from him. Darqu gave them all nervous looks before turning his attention back to the warlord.

  The warlord let go of her and took three steps toward him. “Did you strike her?”

  Darqu lifted his chin, his lips set in a hard, straight line. “She was running away, warlord. I found her alone in the forest. Like you, I do not tolerate insolence. S’anhi was there. He will tell you what he saw.”

  The warlord glanced at the alien who had grabbed her in the forest, then looked at her, one eyebrow raised in question. “Were you in the forest alone?”

  Fuck. If she said yes, would he punish her more for disobeying him? She saw a flash of green skin out of the corner of her eye. Jityria was slowly easing her way toward the other females. Marcy locked eyes on her and said, “I was collecting the berries Cayen needed for that drink he makes.”

  “Did Darqu know this?”

  She looked at Darqu but never said anything. If she did, she’d more or less order his execution. He was an asshole and even though she’d imagined his death multiple times over the past week, she didn’t really think he needed to die for it. Beat and left to wallow in his own waste for a week in the ground pits? Sure. But she wouldn’t be responsible for his death.

  The warlord searched the crowd before saying, “String him up. I’ll deal with him later.”

  Darqu’s outraged cries filled the clearing as Vikram and a few of the others advanced on him. The warlord cr
ossed to where the other females were and her heart skipped a beat. Was he going after Jityria? As pale as Jityria was as he advanced on them, it was clear she thought he was.

  He spoke to them briefly then headed back her way, the color coming back to Jityria’s face. She looked at her across the clearing with an unreadable expression. She’d like to think it was gratitude for not ratting her out but doubted that was it.

  The warlord grabbed her arm when he reached her but this time, his hold was light. He led her back to his hut and let go of her after they were inside. She watched him head to the table in the back where odds and ends type things were stored. He picked up a few of the drying cloths and a couple of the smaller bits of cloth he used for bathing and a clean shirt.

  A moment later, the leather covering over the doorway moved, Tezhila stepping inside. She carried a bowl and a water skin. “Warlord.” She lowered her head. “The things you asked for.”

  “Put them on the table.”

  Tezhila shuffled across the room and set the things in her hands down and glanced at her briefly. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Brew a pelem tea and bring it to me. Jityria knows where to find the bark used to make it.”

  Tezhila nodded and left as quickly as she came. The warlord carried the things he’d collected to the table Tezhila laid the bowl and water skin on and set them down.

  From here, she could barely see into the bowl but whatever lay inside it was purple. The warlord poured water into the bowl then turned to face her.

  “Come here.”

  He still looked mad as hell but his voice was softer than normal. Marcy crossed to where he was and stopped in front of him. He grabbed the clothes she was still clutching to her chest and tossed them aside, then grabbed the ruined shirt at the neck and pulled it off of her, tossing it to the floor when her arms were free of it.

  She stood completely naked before him and to his credit, he never looked lower than her face. His hand on her shoulder and a slight nudge to the left was all it took for her to turn and put her back to him.