by Lily Graison
The bed along the right-hand wall kept snagging her attention. Her heart thumped hard enough to take her breath every time she saw it. So far he hadn’t forced her to share it with him but she wasn’t stupid. His kindness—if her not being raped yet could be called such a thing—would eventually end. Allok forcing her into his bed was probably a given. She just hoped she was wrong.
The material around her wrist had been snug when she was bound but pulling on it the last two days had loosened it. She looked to the doorway. She’d not seen anyone for some time, not even Allok. Giving her arm a hard jerk, she grimaced as pain reached clean to her shoulder but she heard the bindings rip. The sound was loud in the stillness of the hut. Ignoring the pain, she pulled again. And again, the material loosening and ripping more each time. When she felt it finally give, her breath caught.
She sat for long minutes watching the door, her sore arm cradled against her chest. Not a single shadow moved outside. She climbed to her feet and craned her neck to see out. A large fire burned in the center of camp and caused shadows to streak across the ground. They undulated, almost as if dancing. From this angle, it was hard to see what they were doing, and she didn’t care to find out. The laughter and occasional frightened scream told her enough.
Tiptoeing to the doorway, she stayed in the shadows and peered out. There were so many. The sound of laughter was louder here. So were the screams. This camp was nothing like Jorrick’s. She’d once thought her warlord was a barbarian, but these aliens were more barbaric than Jorrick had ever been.
Another quick glance to see if anyone was looking her way showed no one was, which was odd. Did Allok trust her binds enough to think she wouldn’t get out of them?
Stepping back inside, she flattened her back against the wall and closed her eyes. She could make a run for it and try to find Jorrick, slip right out the door and stick to the shadows until she made it to the forest. The worst that would happen was she’d be caught and brought back and tied to the wall again. Allok needed her. He wouldn’t kill her. Could she make it without being seen?
“Would you like to join us, little witch?”
Marcy’s eyes shot open. She stared at the darkened room and noticed the noise from outside had disappeared. It was completely silent now. The only thing she heard was the crack and pop of burning firewood.
“I know you’re there.”
Allok’s voice held a hint of laughter and she wondered how he’d known she’d gotten loose. Had he seen her? A pain shot through her skull a moment later. She gasped and bent double, grabbing at her head, her mouth open in a silent scream. As it had when she’d been brought to his hut the first time, the pain had come and gone in an instant. Marcy slowly straightened. Goose bumps broke out across her skin as Allok’s voice carried across camp, his demand to her to, “Come out and join our party,” loud in the stillness.
She sucked in a few deep breaths, the throbbing in her head a dull ache now. The intense pain was gone, but she still felt—something. Peeking around the corner of the door, she saw Allok in his chair, his head turned in her direction. The moment she met his gaze, another pain shot through her head hard enough to pull a startled scream from her throat. She hit the ground, both of her knees slamming into the dirt and she cradled her head in her raised arms.
Allok’s voice filtered in once the pain had abated. It took her a moment to realize he was talking to her. She looked at him, those unusual red eyes still eery to see.
“I have to admit little witch, I didn’t believe you when you said you were not of the Acirassi race. There aren’t many that I can’t read and you are one of them. I can not penetrate your thoughts at all.”
He was trying to read her mind? Is that why it felt as if her head was trying to split wide open? She closed her eyes and took several more breaths before standing and stepping out of the hut. Everyone was staring at her. A few whimpering cries were coming from somewhere to her right. She didn’t look to try to see who it was or why they were crying. Her imagination was horrible enough. She didn’t need to see the reality of what went on in this camp.
The trees surrounding the area made Allok’s encampment look more sinister than it probably was. Deep shadows lingered over everything and gave off a creepy horror movie vibe she couldn’t shake. Marcy lifted her chin and hoped the false bravado kept anyone from seeing her hands shaking.
She took a few steps toward the fire and stopped when Allok stood and held out his hand to her and said, “Come sit by me.” She did as told, dragging her feet as she crossed camp. Allok sat back down. His chair wasn’t as elaborate as Jorrick’s was, nor as big, but he still looked kingly sitting in it. Another, smaller chair sat beside his own and he patted the seat when she reached him. The moment she sat down, everyone resumed whatever it was they had been doing, all of which turned her stomach.
The aliens here had no shame. They laughed and drank and fucked in front of anyone looking. The women she saw just laid there, their heads turned as if looking away made it less real. Marcy hoped it worked as she turned to meet Allok’s gaze when he spoke.
“Have you decided to give me what I want?”
The question had been asked so many times now, she was sick of hearing it. “I’ve told you—”
“And I think you lie.”
Marcy shook her head. “Why would I?”
“I’m sure you have your reasons.” He smiled suddenly, his pointed teeth shining in the low light. “Perhaps torturing the women you chose isn’t enough. Is it you I should be using?”
“Having your men gang-rape me still won’t make me give you something I can’t.”
“Perhaps a time in my bed will do the trick.”
“So you’re a rapist along with the other vile creatures that live here?”
“I don’t need to lower myself to such degrees to get a female into my bed.”
“You will this one.”
“I never said I would.”
Thank the gods for small favors. Marcy opened her mouth to reply but shut it when he started laughing.
“Don’t get too excited, little witch. Just because I don’t find your species particularly attractive doesn’t mean I won’t have you.” He looked down the line of her body. “Despite the sickly white color of your skin, you do possess the necessary parts.” He reached out and took hold of one of the curls dangling near her face. “I hear Jorrick finds you quite tempting.” He rubbed the curl between his fingers as he stared at it. “Tell me—what did he do when he found Aris’s hand?”
Aris? The sudden change in topic took her by surprise. She tilted her head to look at him. Was he trying to bait her? A look at his eerily creepy face said he was.
He leaned toward her and smiled. “I’ll tell you a secret if you give me what I want.”
“I’ve told you, I can’t—”
“—Oh, but I think you can.” He stood suddenly and held out his hand to her. “Come. Let’s take a walk.”
Touching him was less appealing than walking away with him but Marcy knew she had little choice. She stood without his help and motioned him forward with a nod of her head. He laughed before lowering his hand and saying, “This way little witch.”
He led her toward the trees. A massive alien that reminded her of a Rhinoceros took up a torch and led them into the darkness. Several X shaped structures like the one she’d seen earlier were nestled in the trees here. These held men like the other ones had had but not all of these unfortunate souls were hanging upside down. Some fared better than others but they all looked to be in the same poor shape. Naked and filthy, the stench of their own bodily fluids and waste left to dry on their bare legs, Marcy raised a hand to cover her nose and held her breath as they drew closer.
Not all of them were human in appearance and curiosity drew her gaze to nearly all she saw. Some of them weren’t compatible with humans. She averted her gaze and was glad she’d at least been taken by an alien whose dick hadn’t given her nightmares.
Allok stopped
walking. Marcy glanced at him over the top of her fingers, her breath heating her palm. She glanced to the men hanging to her left. “What is it you wish me to see?”
“I wish for you to see them.” He nodded to the men with a slight tilt of his head.
Marcy sighed and glanced over, giving the men a quick look before shrugging her shoulder. “They’re beaten and defenseless. What of it? Is this what you plan to do to me? Is that why you’re showing me this?”
“No, I offer you a gift.”
She raised an eyebrow. “A gift?” He lowered his head a fraction as if to say, yes. Marcy looked at the men again, unsure what Allok wasn’t saying. She looked at every man there, glancing at their faces in turn, before one made her pause. The light was low, and he was covered in filth but the glow from the torch shined on him enough to see a large section on his chest wasn’t caked in dirt and his skin held a golden hue. He was of the same race Jorrick was.
She lowered her hand and raised her head, taking a step closer to him. His hair was long and hung in his face. He was as powerfully built as Jorrick was and she wondered how Allok had managed to capture him. He groaned and tried to lift his head. This one wasn’t dead.
Marcy opened her mouth to ask Allok why he was showing her these men when the golden skin aliens hands caught her attention. Or rather, his lack of hand. His right one was missing, cut off at the wrist. Her heart thumped so hard inside her chest, her breath caught.
It hadn’t been so very long ago that the men in Jorrick's camp had mourned the death of Aris, a man she later found out was Jorrick’s brother. Was this him? Had Allok not killed him after all?
Allok stepped up beside her. “Give me what I want, witch, and you can have him as a gift.”
The rhino-looking alien grabbed the golden-skinned alien by the hair and pulled his head up. His eyes opened a fraction, landing on her an instant later. Marcy forgot how to breathe. It was Aris. Jorrick’s brother wasn’t dead. Allok had been keeping him prisoner all this time, and he was going to let him go. All she had to do was perform a miracle, and she was about to fail miserably.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sun had lowered over the mountain by the time Jorrick made it back to camp the following day. The charred remains of the buildings still smoldered and the air hung heavy with the scent of smoke. The light coming through the trees was dim but he could see enough to know it looked better than it had when he left. The bodies of those who didn’t survive the attack had been stacked near the center of camp and more were still being placed there. Those that still lived were haggard, but it looked as if they were on the mend. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since any of them had eaten. He’d been ignoring his own growling stomach for the better part of a day.
“You’re back.”
Jorrick turned toward the voice. Jityria smiled at him from the edges of camp. He stared at her, noticing, unlike everyone else's, she was still clean. Soot didn’t cling to her skin or clothing like it did the others in camp. He’d not paid any attention to her when he’d first returned to notice how she looked but now he did, and she’d either bathed since the attack or she hadn’t been here when it happened.
The words she’d spoken to him upon his return still lingered in his mind. Her accusations against Marcy still whispered through his head and past betrayals were enough to make him doubt her but a voice in the back of his head told him that Marcy was nothing like Zasra. That she had not done the things Jityria accused her of.
Jityria limped toward him, the smile on her face telling. There was nothing here to smile about yet she came toward him as if all was right in the world. Jorrick walked away before she could reach him. There wasn’t anything she could say or do to help his current predicament so spending time talking to her was pointless. He headed toward the group of men he’d taken with him on the hunt. Those that weren’t carrying the dead to the burial pyre were off to one side talking. They stopped when he approached them.
“Warlord.” Zahk, one of the few with as much strength as he himself had, greeted him. “What is it you wish of us?”
The list was never ending but the time for demanding things of them was over. “You are free to do as you please.”
They all stared at him, confusion on their faces. Jorrick faced them all, turning to meet each mans gaze. “You have lived under my protection and I have failed you. Our home is destroyed, our brothers slaughtered. There is nothing else for us here.” He swung his arms toward the burned remains of their camp. “We can’t stay here.”
“We can move the camp closer to the water.”
Jorrick wasn’t sure who had spoken, but it didn’t really matter. He’d had a long think on the way back from trying to get the Draegon’s help and realized that until he’d taken Marcy from the arena, he’d been living in a constant state of misery. Every day had been just like the one before it and if that was all he had to look forward to now, then he should have been one of the fallen. Life here was hard. It was harder when waking every day seemed pointless. Marcy had made it better. She’d made the days less lonely but this place—
He looked around at what used to be his home, at the men he’d commanded and realized, he no longer wanted any of it. Being in command of so many had lost its appeal. Dealing with every complaint and seeing every mouth was fed, that everyone under his protection was safe—he no longer wanted any part of it. When he got Marcy back—and he knew he would—he was done. He’d take her some place no one would find them and live out the remainder of his life without a care in the world other than to see to her needs.
A flash of light to his left drew his attention. The burial pyre had been lit. Every man in camp stopped talking, everyone turning to watch and honor those that had died in the attack.
The scent of burning flesh and hair filled the air. Jorrick watched with the others, stepping back after a few moments when the heat got to be too much. He’d known nothing but death in all his years. Even before being dropped in this hell hole, violence had been a way of life. He’d wished for peace for as long as he could remember and for a brief, short moment, he’d had it. Then he learned of Zasra’s betrayal and every waking moment had been spent plotting his revenge. He’d found it in Marcy but his little red one had done the impossible with nothing more than looking at him with longing in her eyes. She’d changed his mind, made him think things he’d never wanted to think about again. She’d made him think of home. Of family, and she’d stolen his heart—given him everything he’d ever desired. And now she was gone.
He clenched his jaw and turned, heading toward the far reaches of camp. The sound of footsteps behind him grew louder as he walked.
“Where is it you go, Warlord?”
“I’m going to Allok’s camp. He has something that belongs to me and I’m going to get it back.”
The noise behind him grew and a look over his shoulder showed him every man capable of walking was doing so. They were following him. “You do not have to come.”
Zahk looked at the others, then shrugged a shoulder. “We have nothing else to do.” He grinned and gripped the end of the sword strapped to his hip. “And I feel a bit of payback is in order.”
A cheer rang through camp. Jorrick counted heads. Sixteen men, including himself—against Allok’s entire camp. The odds were laughable and most of the men before him probably wouldn’t even make it back alive but the Draegon had made it clear he was on his own so he wouldn’t refuse the help offered to him.
Jityria stepped in front of the men to stand before him. “You would risk your life for her? She betrayed you! Just as Zasra did.”
Silence followed her outburst, the crack and pop of burning wood and bodies the only sound to be heard. “I have no proof of Mar-see’s betrayal. Only your word.”
“And that is not good enough?”
“No.”
Her face grew darker, the green tint of her skin nearly going black. The muscle in her jaw clenched before she shouted, “I’ve given you everythin
g! Why was I never good enough for you?”
Jorrick sighed. He didn’t have time for this, nor did he wish to discuss anything with her in front of so many. He met her gaze and saw pain there. He’d always known she had feelings for him. It's why he’d never taken her to his bed. He hadn’t wanted the attachment, but it looked as if it was there, regardless. “I was very clear with you, Jityria. You knew where you stood. I’m sorry you thought it would change over time. Nothing has.”
He turned his back to her and headed to the trees. He had more important things to worry about than Jityria’s hurt feelings. Allok had his mate. Marcy needed him and he’d get her back or die trying.
Recognition dawned in Aris’s eyes as he looked at her. The corner of his mouth drew down into what looked like a frown. Not happy to see her then. Of course, if this was his treatment while under Allok’s watch, she imagined Aris was expecting the same for her and most likely, it would be, especially if she didn’t give Allok what he wanted.
He moved into her line of sight and her heart started to thump—hard. Did she dare pretend she could do what he asked? “All I have to do is perform my ritual and you’ll let him go?”
His red eyes seemed to shine brighter at her words. “Yes. Give me what I wish and he’s yours.”
She felt sick. How fast would he kill her when he finds out she’s lying? She sucked in a deep breath, then released it and raised her chin a notch. “Take him down.”
Allok smiled. “Once you’ve completed your task, he’ll be released.”
Marcy shook her head. “Not good enough. Release him now and let me see to his wounds. Then and only then, will I do what you ask.” A sharp piercing pain raced through her brain hard enough to bend her double. She grabbed her head, moaning through the agony. The moment it stopped, she raised up and blinked the tears in her eyes away.