by Lily Graison
Long minutes ticked by as he stood there staring at her before he smiled, turned on his heel, and left. She watched the leather door flap swing, cursing under her breath until long after it had stopped.
The warlord knew all about torture, apparently. And he was either leaving to go jerk one off or had an iron will most men didn’t. As the day wore on, she lost count of how many times he came back. How many times he sucked her breasts, fingered and licked her into a quivering mess—then left just as she was about to come. The last time, she’d screamed, “you fucking asshole,” at his retreating back and could have sworn she heard him laugh.
The sadistic bastard was about to get a lesson of his own. She was tired, hungry and pissed off and the next time he came to her would be the last.
The noise around camp grew before quieting again, the constant flow of traffic outside the hut should have made her nervous but she was too furious to care. So what if anyone looked in and found her hanging there. Most probably thought this sort of thing happened on a nightly basis, anyway.
Her stomach was growling by the time the warlord came back. The small glimpse she’d gotten of the camp outside the doorway showed the sun had set, the camp dark except for the glow of the central fire pit. Marcy gritted her teeth as she glared at him.
He headed to the table where the small bowl of glowing rocks sat. He moved them around, making them glow bright enough to illuminate the room, then turned to face her. “Have you learned your lesson?”
“Go to hell.”
“I guess not.”
He crossed the room and raised an arm, his hand going for her breast when Marcy lifted her leg, planting her knee against his hip to keep him away. “I’m done playing.”
The warlord raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t like our game?”
“Game?” She scoffed. “Games are fun. This is not.”
He smiled, those fangs shining in the dim light. “Oh, you are wrong e’mahn neok. I’ve not had such fun in more rotations of the moons than I can remember.”
“Well, I’m certainly not having fun.”
“You weren’t supposed to. Where is the lesson if it isn’t unpleasant?”
When he came at her again, Marcy raised her leg and got her foot on him this time. She pushed, trying to keep him away and barely budged him an inch.
He laughed and knocked her foot away.
The moment he came at her again, she kicked at him.
What started out as a slow dance of him coming toward her and her pushing him away turned into a battle of wills within minutes. The smile on his face grew as he pushed her thrashing legs away but vanished when her foot caught him between the legs a moment later.
He growled—honest to God growled—and lunged for her so quickly, she let out a shocked squeal when he grabbed her by the hair, turned her head, and bit into the side of her neck again. The shock lasted only seconds. With him so close, she repaid him in kind, opening her mouth and biting him back with blunt teeth.
The sound he made was a mix between pain and pleasure, the sucking pull on her neck growing more intense before his grip on her hair loosened and he lifted his head to look at her. His eyes had darkened until they were nearly black in the low light, his lips stained red with her blood and every cell in her body was on fire. That pulsing thump was back between her legs and before he had time to do more than look at her, she leaned forward and kissed him. The moment their lips met, he growled again and the hold he had on her hair tightened to this side of painful as he forced his tongue inside her mouth.
Before their encounter in the waterfall cave, she hadn’t been able to recall the last time she’d been kissed. She’d been without a steady boyfriend for fourteen months or so before she’d been captured and put on that spaceship and who knew how long she’d been here. She’d lost count of the weeks but if she had to guess, she’d say it was going on close to two years since she’d been anywhere near a man. Maybe that was why the warlords kiss—even the bloody-mouthed kiss he was giving her now—made her womb clench so tight because had it been any other time, tasting her own blood would have been revolting. Today, she couldn’t get enough. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, rolled her own against it and felt ready to come from nothing more than feeling those fangs of his nip her lip.
The warlord was the first to break the kiss. He was panting for breath and that bulge in his pants had grown, his hips angled toward her enough she could feel it against her flesh. Before he had time to leave again, she lifted one leg and wrapped it around him, planting her heel into his ass and hunched her hips, rubbing herself on his erection. She leaned in enough to grab his bottom lip with her teeth, nipped it hard enough to bleed before letting go. “Are you ever going to fuck me or do you just intend to play with me all day?”
Every muscle in his body clenched tight at her words. His balls were probably five shades of blue by now. He’d never denied himself so long and wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken himself in hand before now. Maybe because he knew it would be that much more pleasing when he took her if he refused himself the pleasure.
She was panting with need, her breasts heaving with every breath. The musky scent of her cunt filled the air and just breathing it in made him want to bury his face between her legs again.
Commotion outside the door drew his attention, the leather flap moving before he turned his head to look at it. “Whoever is there, go away.”
Vikram cleared his throat and said, “Apologies, warlord, but there is trouble on our border.”
He bit back a curse, took a few deep breaths to will his erection away and hurried to the door. Vikram was flanked by three others when he stepped outside. He pushed the leather door flap closed so they couldn’t see inside. “What is it?”
Vikram’s eyes darted across his face before falling to the side of his neck. His hand rose, his fingers sliding across his still bleeding flesh. The pain from the bite Mar-see gave him barely registered now and it took every ounce of control he had to listen to his second in command when all his mind wanted to focus on was the fact his little human had marked him. Had claimed him whether she knew it or not and every nerve in his body was firing at once, adrenaline coursing through his veins as that gnawing need to make her his in every way screamed at him to take her. To cover her with his scent so there would be no doubt to anyone that she belonged to him.
“Warlord, did you hear me?”
Jorrick blinked and focused his gave on Vikram. “Sorry. No, repeat that again.”
“A number of men were seen entering our territory.”
“How many?”
“We’re not sure. It could have been ten. It could have been forty. The scouts did not stay long enough to see.”
“Then tell them to go back and find out!”
Jorrick watched them walk away, then turned and headed back inside. The next person to interrupt him would join Darqu in the trees.
Jorrick said nothing when he stepped back into the hut and secured the door flap but the expression on his face screamed his intent. She was about to get fucked silly.
Goosebumps pimpled Marcy’s skin the moment he locked eyes with her. He grabbed the stool beside the table and sat down, taking his time removing each of his boots. When he stood, he pushed his long hair away from his face and reached for the fastening on his pants. Marcy’s gaze shot there and held.
He was still hard, the evidence of it straining against his leathers. He popped the fastenings open. As if he was moving in slow motion, he pushed the pants down over his hips. That beautiful cock of his sprang up and those goosebumps cause a shiver to race up her spine.
The warlord slid the pants off and kicked them away. The orange glow from those strange rocks shined against his golden skin and created interesting shadows. Marcy watched the play of light against his flesh as he started toward her and every step he took made her pulse leap.
He said nothing when he stopped in front of her, just reached down and lifted her leg to his hip. The hea
t from his body chased away the chills. He grabbed his cock and slid it against her wet folds. She was still wet and sucked in a breath when the head of his cock bumped her clit.
The leg she was standing on quivered as he stepped closer, lining himself up to enter her but he didn’t do anything other than that. “Stop playing with me.” She used the leg on his hip to pull him forward and he slid in so slowly, it was excruciatingly blissful.
She bit her lip when the full length of him was inside of her. He grabbed her other leg, pulling it up and around his hip before pulling from her and sliding back in. Her eyelids closed, her breath catching as he set a slow, leisurely pace.
“Open your eyes, e’mahn neok.”
Marcy did as told. This close up she could see brown and copper flecks in his golden eyes. His thrusts grew harder as he pushed inside. Their gazes were locked and with each intrusion into her body, Marcy forgot all about going home.
She’d had more than one lover in her adult life but not one of them had looked at her the way the warlord was now. It felt as if he was seeing into her very soul and as his thrusts grew harder, her heart pounded faster. The noise in camp faded away, nothing registered but the sound of their panted breaths. Marcy hadn’t minded being bound to the pole but now she wanted her hands free. She wanted to touch him, to slide her hands into all that slick hair, to pull him close and hold on tight.
Both her legs were around his waist now and she pulled him closer, holding him to her as she rounded her hips, moving with him, faster and faster until he stopped moving and she was fucking him. She was so close to coming she’d kill him if he stopped now.
One of those rumbling growls rattled his chest. He lifted his hands, one claiming her breast, the other sliding into her hair before he thrust his hips forward. The force of it was near bruising but it sent tingles shooting down her spine.
“Harder,” she panted. “And don’t you dare fucking stop or I’ll kill you in your sleep.”
He grinned, those fangs shining in the low light while he fucked her the way she’d been hoping he would. Hard and with enough force she found it hard to breathe.
Her stomach clenched seconds before her body went hot, every limb tingling and her eyelids slammed shut as a scream crawled up her throat. The warlord’s thrusts grew quicker, his hold on her tightening as she finally came, her teeth clenched to keep from screaming, the pounding slap of his hips slamming into her causing her entire body to thrum. She felt him thicken moments before heat filled her and his growls were so loud she didn’t even try to hold back what she felt and knew the noise they were making had to be heard by someone outside the hut.
When he finally stilled, his face was buried against her neck, his breath hot against her skin. His hold on her loosened, but he never moved. He just stood there, holding her as their heart rates slowed and her body kept clamping down on his cock.
She didn’t know how long they stood like that but when the warlord raised his head and looked at her, then reached up to pull her hands free of the hook, something in his eyes changed. It wasn’t so much the color as it was the intensity in them. The way he was looking at her grew—softer. More—reverent.
Her arms ached when she lowered them, the blood flow returning to normal. She had no where to put them other than around his neck but he didn’t look as if he minded. The hardened warlord who had scared the shit out of her the first time she’d seen him had teased and tortured her all day, made her body ache in ways it never had before, then did the impossible. He’d come to her gently and made love to her in a way she wasn’t aware he was capable of. When he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her to him, then turned and headed for his bed, his intention was clear in his eyes. When he laid her down on his bed and covered her body with his own before kissing a path down the side of her neck to her breast, she knew without a doubt that Jityria was definitely going to kill her now. She shivered when he bit lightly on her nipple. At least she’d die happy and thoroughly fucked. She’d be sure to let Jityria know just how well before she delivered the killing blow.
Chapter Eighteen
His body ached in ways he hadn’t felt in years and as sated as he felt, the voice of reason was screaming inside his head what a fool he was.
He should have never touched her. He should have thrown her into the hole the moment they reached camp and forgotten she was there until the time was right.
What if she was another spy for Allok? What if he’d played into his enemy’s hands like a fool once again? He didn’t doubt for a moment Allok would do it but he couldn’t believe for a minute he’d had any part in Mar-see being auctioned off in the arena. Allok was a powerful warlord but none of them were powerful enough to sway the corporation. Were they?
Kr’Atek hadn’t even tried to fight him but that didn’t mean much. Not many were brave enough to challenge him. It was why Kr’Atek had betrayed him and left to begin with. He’d not been strong enough to take him on and walk away from it so he’d run to Allok with all his secrets.
Mar-see stirred and rolled to her back. The furs had fallen and laid underneath her breasts. Jorrick ran his gaze over her and knew he’d never seen a more perfectly formed female. Her breasts were round and firm and fit his hands as if they’d been made just for him.
The previous night came back to him in flashes and he grew hard with just the memory. The things she’d made him feel were so foreign he’d laid there stunned most of the night. No one should have that much power over him but she did. She made him think ridiculous things that would make the others perceive him as weak if they knew. Silly things that only a female would appreciate him saying and as he looked at her, all he wanted to do was crawl between her thighs, slide into her warmth and wrap her in his arms while whispering things only she could hear.
But he didn’t.
Jorrick crawled from the bed, trying to be careful not to wake her and dressed while watching her. If she was part of some scheme Allok had set into motion, then he’d find out. And if she was working for that bastard, he’d kill her slowly and send the warlord her pretty little head.
The thought irritated him more than it should have. He strapped his weapons on, taking in the features of her face and hoped like hell she wasn’t playing him. He’d vowed to never let another in but as he stood there looking at her, he knew it was too late. Whether it was a mating bond or just loneliness, she was his. He just hoped she wasn’t his downfall.
He grabbed his weapons, and left the hut, heading across camp in search of Vikram. His second in command had come to him the night before with reports of a disturbance and he’d been more concerned with bedding Mar-see than seeing what was happening on his borders. He found him and Aryn in a small cluster of others deep in conversation. They all looked his way as he approached.
“Warlord.” Vikram nodded his head in greeting.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing good.” Vikram turned and headed into the trees. Jorrick followed him, along with the others. “I had scouts search the entire border again looking for the men they’d seen but all they found was several bodies.”
“Are they Allok’s men or ours?”
“I can’t tell.” He glanced over at him. “There’s not much left of them.”
A sense of urgency erased the last of his worries where Mar-see was concerned. They’d still not found Aris. News of bodies along his borders made his gut twist as fear of what he’d find filled his mind. That war he wanted may be closer than he thought.
Waking up alone wasn’t unusual but working around camp all day and not seeing the warlord was.
Marcy had looked for him all day and when night had fallen and he was still nowhere to be seen, that shitty little voice in the back of her head started whispering that she hadn’t seen Jityria all day either. When full dark fell, those thoughts had only grown and made her feel even worse.
The previous day had played inside her head so many times, her body clenched tight just thinking about all th
e things he’d done to her, even more so when she’d crawled into his bed alone and inhaled the scent of his skin that lingered on the furs. Memories of how her body had felt alive as every touch, kiss and lick he’d placed on her flesh filled her head again.
She’d slept fitfully, staring at the ceiling most of the night wondering where he was and once visions of him in Jityria’s bed popped into her head, she was ready to chop off his dangly bits. The question, was he fucking Jityria after all? had run through her mind on repeat until she’d finally given up the pretense of sleep and ended up pacing the hut, furious at them both, trying to convince herself she wasn’t jealous. That she had no right to be. She was his captive, nothing more. It didn’t matter that he made her come so hard she nearly blacked out. She was his to do with as he pleased and if that meant fucking her then disappearing, then that’s exactly what he’d do.
She sighed. One good poking and the warlord had turned her into a jealous lunatic. She wanted to blame it on being so damn long since she’d been laid but knew it was a lie. He’d rocked her world so many times the night before, she was sure she’d walk funny for a week.
And the bastard had been gone when she woke and hadn’t come home yet!
An entire day and night passed with no sign of him and no one could tell her anything. When the sun rose on the second day, and she found herself alone in bed, she flung the furs back, dressed and stormed out of the hut.
Jityria was the first person she saw. The ire she’d felt the day before came back in an instant and she wanted to claw the heifers eyes out for no other reason than her imagination had flashed pictures of her naked with the warlord for a solid day and quite frankly, she was pissed about it. She didn’t want to think of him naked with anyone but her but the thought wouldn’t leave her.
Jityria spotted her and headed her way. That same pissy look was on her face as she approached. “Why are you not at the cooking pits?”
