by Lily Graison
“Because I just woke up.”
She sneered. “Your sleeping habits matter to no one.” Jityria grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the trees. “Go serve the others or I’ll have you thrown into the hole.”
The rest of the morning was spent filling cups and carrying trenchers of food to the tables, then cleaning it all up again. By the time she’d eaten and headed toward the females hut, her back felt as if it was breaking.
The sun was high in the sky when commotion in the trees caught everyone’s attention. Marcy watched the warlord stomp into the clearing, followed by a small group of scouts. No one looked happy. Some looked downright enraged.
They scattered inside the camp, their voices starting to fill the air in a constant barrage of angry chatter. The warlord headed straight for his hut. She debated going after him but thought better of it when he disappeared inside and bellowed so loud in that unusual growl she sometimes heard that the noise rang across camp and sent most everyone scurrying.
Something shattered a moment later and within minutes, the sound of things breaking filled the air. The walls of the hut shuddered as things continue to crash and get slammed into the ground and those loud growls caused everyone in camp to hunker down where they were and not move.
She’d seen the way the others looked at the warlord at times, as if they were thinking up ways to take everything he had but seeing them now, and listening to whatever was going on inside that hut, she knew why so few had ever tried. She’d romanticized the man who shared a bed with her but she knew very little about him. About what sort of person he was before he ended up here. From the sounds of it, one prone to fits of violence.
Celestia hurried across camp and sat on one of the low-lying stools. She jumped when something banged against the wall of the Jorrick’s hut hard enough it shuddered again.
Marcy winced and wondered if she’d find herself on the floor tonight. Or cramped into the small hut the other females had to share.
Tezhila was the first to speak, asking Celestia in a soft voice, “Do you know what has happened?”
The blue alien nodded. “They found Aris. He is dead.”
Marcy gasped with the others. Aris had been missing for weeks now. She looked toward the hut again when something else crashed into the wall. “I take it the warlord knew him well?”
Celestia nodded. “They arrived here together and had a close bond. Aris said things to the warlord others would have never dared to utter, but he didn’t fear him like most do. It may have been why they got along so well.”
Marcy stared at the hut and listened to the warlord rage over the loss of his friend. A part of her wanted to go and try to comfort him but she was familiar with that sort of grief and nothing she said would take away his pain.
She lost track of time sitting there but the warlord eventually calmed. The evening meal was prepared and eaten before she ventured to the hut. She peeked in and sucked in a breath. He’d destroyed nearly everything.
The light was dim but she could tell he wasn’t there. He must have slipped out unseen when she was serving the others.
Marcy pulled the leather door flap back and secured it to grab the last remaining light of the day and spent longer than it should have taken to find the brasier those odd glowing rocks sat in. She righted the tables and set the rocks back into the bowl and spent the rest of the evening straightening the hut. When it somewhat resembled what it had that morning, she looked at the bed. It was broken, the frame supporting the mattress shattered into several pieces.
It took several tugs to get the mattress moved to a clear spot on the floor. She dug all the furs out from under the broken bed frame and made the bed, then stripped out of her clothes and crawled into it exhausted. She stared at the door, willing the warlord to come back and as the noise in camp died, she wondered where he was. And who was comforting him.
Her body was tingling with the remnants of an erotic dream, heat along her back where the warlord lay pressed against her making her body thrum and Marcy blinked her eyes open only to realize it wasn't a dream. The warlord was indeed behind her. Fucking her.
She moaned when he dragged her leg up over his and pushed inside again, the thick length of him sliding in and out in a slow, leisurely pace. He held one of her breast in his hand, his thumb flicking her nipple while he breathed heavily into the crook of her neck. She moved her head to one side, his lips tickling a path to her ear and when he realized she was awake, his thrusts became harder, quicker.
The hand on her breast lowered, his fingers finding her clit, and it took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to make her come. She screamed into her hand as his cock slammed into her, his fingers working her clit until her limbs were shaking.
He came with a roar, his hold on her tightening to this side of painful. He didn't let go until their breathing had returned to normal, then he pulled away from her, stood, then dressed and left without a single word.
Marcy flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She didn't know when he'd come to bed but was glad he had. Of course it was disappointing he left again without saying anything to her.
She eventually crawled from bed and dressed then headed straight for the pond to wash. There was no denying that she and the warlord were intimate. Most even suspected it. Those who didn't could probably tell from nothing more than her walking past them. One of the things she'd learned since arriving on Prison Moon One is, these aliens have a very keen sense of smell. Jityria being one of them. She saw her on the trail halfway there and groaned. She was tired of the verbal sparring matches they had.
Jityria’s nose was almost nonexistent it was so flat but her nostrils flared the moment she stopped in front of her on the path. Her black eyes ran the length of her before coming back up and Marcy saw her nostrils flare again before she met her gaze.
She knew next to nothing about Jityria other than she hated the sight of her. She didn't even know what her species was called. She hadn't cared enough to ask but maybe she should have because Jityria came at her so quickly, she didn't even realize she'd moved until Jityria grabbed her by the hair and threw her across the path and into the surrounding trees. Marcy lay there stunned for long seconds, blinking into the swaying trees limbs until Jityria’s face came into view. She was grabbed, pulled from the ground and thrown again as if she weighed nothing. She rolled and managed to find her feet before she attacked again but Marcy knew her being quick on her feet meant very little.
"If you leave a mark on me, Jityria, the warlord will rip you apart."
The alien paused, her black gaze boring into her own for so long, Marcy knew Jityria was debating on whether it was worth it. She gave her a familiar sneer and closed the distance between them, reaching out and grabbing another handful of her hair. "I can smell him all over you, human."
I just bet you can. Marcy didn't reply, just stood there trying not to wince as Jityria pulled on her hair.
"And I will have what is rightfully mine," she said. The corners of her mouth turned up slowly, the smile one of the cruelest she'd seen. "And I will have my revenge on you as well, sevit."
Jityria flung her away again and was walking back down the path before Marcy even hit the ground. She lay there stunned, the side of her head aching where Jityria had been yanking at her hair and she raised a hand to her head to make sure she hadn’t yanked her bald.
As fights went, that one was pretty pathetic, but she wasn't stupid. She wouldn't be able to best Jityria on a good day and there wasn't much use in trying to do more than deflect her blows. She was only human, after all.
She crawled to her feet and continued to the pond to wash, looking toward the waterfall cave when she reached it. She debated going inside to see if the warlord was there but decided against it. He was in a mood and she didn't know enough about him to know if he'd lash out at her and she wasn't going to find out. She'd had her ass kicked enough for one day.
Chapter Nineteen
Something was h
appening. People were in motion everywhere when she got back to camp. Marcy headed to the females hut to see what was going on and was met by Krista. “What's going on?”
"They're preparing a memorial of some kind for Aris."
Marcy nodded, then watched as a small pyre was erected. From what she'd heard, they hadn't found much of Aris. Part of a skull with hair attached, a few random limbs, and his hand. He had the same golden skin the warlord did, so they were of the same species but it was a number tattooed onto the side of the severed hand that let them know it was Aris. She'd seen a similar number tattooed on the warlord's hand as well.
The ceremony was solemn, as most funerals were, but once the remains had been burned, the aliens celebrated as if Aris was still with them. As funerals went, it was better than most she'd been to. At least no one was standing around weeping here.
It had taken a while to find the warlord in the crowd. He'd stood by his hut, alone. She'd debated going to him but didn't want to intrude. When he retreated and finally left the party and disappeared inside his hut, she looked toward the food trenchers. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him eat anything.
Taking one of the empty trenchers, she filled it and grabbed a jug of the intoxicating wine the aliens liked to drink, along with a cup and carried it to the hut, hoping he didn't scream at her for invading his space.
The leather flap was closed when she made it to the entrance. She looked at those around camp before quietly pushing it aside and stepping in.
It was dark but she could see him along the back wall looking at a flat disk of some kind. He turned his head to look at her when the leather flap fell closed behind her. For all his strength, the look in his eyes told her he was devastated.
She held up the trencher and cup. "I brought you something to eat."
He looked at her for a moment, then turned his head. "I'm not hungry."
"I'm sure you're not but you have to eat. We all do." She carried the trencher and cup to the table and set them down, hoping they didn't slide off. This table hadn't fared well in his wrath. The leg was nearly broken off, and it leaned heavily to one side now.
"He shouldn't have been here."
Marcy wasn't sure if he was talking to her or just stating a fact. He was still staring at whatever it was he held in his hand.
"He was too young. More child than man and now he's dead." He raised his hand and threw whatever it was he was holding so hard it stuck into the wall. He turned to the table beside him and braced his hands on top of it and lowered his head. "He never listened to me. He was insolent and had no regard to safety and would defy me for no other reason than he could.” His fist hit the tabletop hard enough she heard the wood crack. Then he hit it again. And again.
Marcy crossed the room, wrapped her arms around his waist, and hugged him to her. Plastered against his back, she could hear his heart pounding. His violent assault on the table stopped, and he just stood there panting for breath. She didn’t move until his breathing had returned to normal and lifted her head when he quietly said, “Aris was my brother.”
It felt as if she’d been slapped, the words were so shocking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“No one knows.” He inhaled deeply. Exhaled. “Only you.”
The admission took her by surprise. She knew very little about the warlord, and he her, yet he trusted her with information no one else knew?
She stepped around him, pushing her way between him and the table. His eyes were glassy, as if filled with tears he refused to shed. She’d seen many expressions on his face but never this one. He looked so—profoundly sad, it made her heart hurt. “Tell me how to make this better, warlord.”
He sighed and pushed her hair from her face, his gaze touching every inch of it before saying, “My name is Jorrick.”
Her heart thumped against her ribcage—hard. “It’s nice to meet you, Jorrick.” She smiled and laid her palms against his chest. “I’m Marcy.” If asked later what made her raise up on her toes and kiss him, she wouldn’t have been able to say, but the moment their lips touched, he cupped both sides of her head in his hands and tilted it to one side and kissed her as if he’d been waiting his entire life to do it. His tongue slid against her own and she felt a small zap of heat travel the length of her body at the intimate touch.
Jorrick was a good kisser. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was here on this awful prison moon and being with a woman was so rare a thing it made him more enthusiastic or if he was just that damn good at it, but she was ready for a full-on girly swoon within seconds.
He wore a shirt today. It hung loose, the hem, for once, not tucked in so she took advantage of it and slid her hands underneath the material. His stomach muscles contracted at her touch, his fingers sliding deeper into her hair and the sweep of his tongue inside her mouth grew deeper.
The intensity of his kiss told her how much pain he was in, and if this was what it took to ease some of it, then so be it. Being with him wasn’t a hardship regardless of the motive behind it so she eased the shirt up, pushing the material to his chest until she finally broke the kiss and pulled it off.
Marcy unhooked the fastener on his pants and looked him in the eye as she parted the material and started sliding them down over his hips. She pushed them as far as she could reach, then bent her legs, falling to her knees in front of him, pulling the material to his ankles.
His cock wasn’t hard, but the length was still impressive. She leaned forward and took it into her mouth, swallowing the entire softened length, and felt it twitch when he sucked in a harsh breath.
She’d never sucked a soft dick but decided she liked it the moment she felt it start to harden. His fingers dug into her hair, holding her to him as she worked him root to tip, swirling her tongue around the hardening length and by the time he was fully erect, she knew she’d never be able to get it all into her mouth.
Marcy pulled back enough to look up at him and licked the head of his cock. Those strange amber eyes no longer held the glassy shine of tears. He was looking at her with so much desire shining in them she felt a shudder of pleasure ripple down her spine.
She sucked him back in, licking and nibbling on his length until he shifted his hips, then fucked her mouth for long minutes before pulling himself free and lifting her, roughly removing the wrap skirt around her waist and sitting her on the table. He lifted both her legs, draped them across his arms and slid inside her without a word.
Marcy gasped at the intrusion and reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and held on as he fucked her like he had nothing else to do but give her pleasure. He was watching her, their eyes locked, and she saw so many emotions there. His pain was obvious but something else lingered, something that made her heart clench tight.
He kissed her again, his lips soft and wet against her own while his hips rocked forward, feeding his length into her more forcefully until the table was rocking and bouncing off the walls behind it.
The warlord—Jorrick—gripped her hips, locking her to him, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pounded into her and kissed her stupid. Her womb clenching announced her impending release, and it hit her so fast, when she opened her mouth to scream, nothing came out but a gurgled half moan she hoped no one outside heard. The warlord didn’t hold back when he came. He roared loud enough it would take no one but a second to wonder what was happening inside their hut and by the time he stilled, Marcy knew that was only a prelude to what she was in store for.
He lifted her and walked to the bed, his steps awkward and she realized his pants were still around his ankles. She would have laughed but didn’t want him to think she was laughing at him. When he sank to his knees on the mattress she’d placed on the floor, he laid her down then stood again, removed his boots and pants and stared down at her like some fantastic golden god. He was simply—beautiful. And all hers at the moment.
Marcy spread her legs, smiling when his gaze shot there, and held her arms up to him, inviting him
for more. When he sank back down onto the mattress, kissing a path up her leg, she wondered if those aliens who’d kidnapped her hadn’t actually done her a favor. No one on earth had ever looked at her the way Jorrick did and as her heart started pounding, his wet tongue finding her center, she knew she was now his willing captive.
She was an enigma. Beautiful and full of life and she didn’t belong here on this awful planet. Jorrick stilled when she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, every muscle in his body tightening at the sight of it. He lived for those smiles now. Waiting every morning until she woke, knowing she’d grace him with one the moment she saw him. Then he’d fuck her until she was panting for breath and couldn’t move from their bed.
He’d mourned Aris in the weeks between his disappearance and them finding him. He’d known he was dead. They would have found him had he been alive. But knowing something and seeing proof of it were two very different things. He’d raged and wanted to kill and felt that beast that lived within all his people try to claw himself free. Mar-see was the only reason every alien in his camp who had ever said a harsh word to his brother wasn’t dead. She calmed the beast that lurked beneath his skin.
Mar-see bent to pick up another ground root. She showed it to him and told him it reminded her of an ok-to-puss, whatever that was.
He walked closer to where she stood and leaned back against one of the trees. “How did you come to be in this place?”
She huffed out a breath. “I was walking out of my dance studio and this bright light surrounded me. I thought it was a police spotlight at first but then I blacked out and woke up on a spaceship.” She shrugged. “As abductions go, it was pretty standard. Most earthlings don’t even believe in aliens.” She laughed. “Hell, I didn’t believe in aliens but—here I am.”
He knew what dancing was but some of the words she’d used were unfamiliar. “You danced for others the way you did for me?”
