by Alison Aimes
“Let me see what we got.” Another flat-toothed head popped up over the shoulder of the first male, his body even wider and taller than the first. “Holy hells.” He eyed her up and down, making her feel as if the cloth wrapped around her hips wasn’t even there. “Look at her.”
She forced herself to show no fear. “Stay back.”
She slid the spear she’d fashioned from the picked-clean rib bone of a thigose off her back and eased it around to her front, pointed tip outward. It packed none of the punch of her whalh spear, but it was better than nothing.
“What you got there, girlie?” Two more faces appeared. “Don’t look like much.”
A muffled sound echoed behind her and she knew there were at least two creeping up on her flank, cutting off her escape route.
She swiveled, but it did no good. She was surrounded. Their hard, cruel faces peered down at her with ugly intent. The moons’ shadows only making them appear more terrifying. The biggest had a hoop through his nose. Another had fleshy ears hanging from a chain around his biceps. The shortest was missing an eye. Altogether, there were at least eight of them, all twice her size, all radiating cruelty.
Circling slowly, she tried to keep them at bay with the spear, jabbing in their direction.
“She looks strange.”
“She’s got all the working holes.”
Tuning them out, she considered her options. Besides the spear, she’d armed herself with a few sharp rocks, and an old pack surprise.
Still, her best chance was not having to use any of it at all.
Without warning, she darted through a small opening in the circle. Her size and speed might let her escape and—
A rough hand clamped around her forearm, yanking her back. “Oh, no you don’t.”
She slammed into a hard chest, a thick arm wrapping around her throat. The bitter stench of sweat and rot wafted across her cheek.
Someone wrenched the spear from her hold. It snapped easily. Unfortunate, but not a disaster. It was always meant to serve as a distraction from the real threat.
With a cry, she slammed her arm upward, the sharp edge of the rock in her hand slicing into the side of her attacker’s neck.
With a choked gasp, the male with the body parts dangling from a chain clutched his throat, stemming the blood.
Freed, she dropped to the ground.
The roar of outrage above her indicated she was far from safe.
“She killed Devers!”
Her first kill. There was no time to focus on that now.
“You’ll pay for that, bitch.”
She threw her rock at a male with a jagged scar through his lip. He ducked.
The giant with the hoop through his nose reached her first.
Rearing upward, she swung out with her right hand, embedding her smaller rock deep into his neck.
“You feral freak!” His backhand sent her sprawling. She hit the ground hard. “She cut me, too.”
Ignoring the ringing in her ears, she scrambled to her knees as the others closed in.
Heart beating fast, she waited.
They were almost on her when it happened. The male with the nose hoop wobbled, his eyelids drooping as the color leached from his face. He banged into the male at his side.
The rest paused.
She backed up, stumbling to her feet, and just avoided getting taken down as the listing male fell.
His body hit the ground hard.
“What the hells?” Fear and rage sharpened the voice of the one-eyed attacker.
“Stay back.” Every time she’d seen a dargulff plant hiding beneath the shadow of the boulders she’d picked its leaves. At night, she’d mixed it with the necessary elements and ground it into a solid paste. Even more potent than the mixture Grif had initially tried to drug her with, this concoction was powerful enough that when it hit the blood stream, the victim never woke up. “Touch me, I kill you, just like other two.”
Her attackers paused. Their narrowed gazes shifted between her and the two of their own unmoving on the ground.
“She talks strange.”
“Look at those ears.”
“The question is, is she telling the truth?”
The savages looked hesitant. For a heartbeat, she had hope—
“I don’t see any more of those rocks, do you?” The new leader’s words ended her gamble. “All I see are those tits and that shiny skin, We’ll fuck her, then skin her. A win-win. Plus, with the others gone, there’ll be less need to share her holes.”
They surged as one.
She kicked out.
They dodged her strike. The one-eyed male grabbed her arm. Another seized her injured ankle. She shrieked in agony.
“Got her.” A brutal vise closed around her throat from behind.
“Hold her tight.” The other men closed in. “She might be tiny, but she’s a wild one.”
The description made her heart sink. Her sudden longing for the male who’d first called her that so strong it pressed on her chest harder than any meaty forearm.
Her makeshift covering was ripped from her body. The skin at her waist stung.
“Grab her hands and ankles. Hold her down.”
Rough hands pinned her wrist to the dirt. Her legs were jerked apart and spread wide. Something tore in her already injured ankle.
She screamed.
“Shut up.” An attacker climbed on top of her, his weight stealing her breath. “Fuck, that’s nice. You just lay there and take it. Be a good slut and maybe you’ll live longer than planned.” His expression hardened. “Make more trouble and you’ll suffer worse than you could ever imagine.”
She’d heard Others tell the chained females in the camps the same thing. It wasn’t too far from what Talg had told her, either.
“Open that fucking mouth of hers,” barked one of the men to the other. “I’ll take that until I can get into her other hole.”
She had always feared death. She still did, but not as much as before. She would no longer be going to the Void untouched or unseen. Her captor had changed that.
He’d also taught her just how strong she was.
Rearing upward, she sank her teeth into the cheek of the Other fumbling to shove himself into her—and clamped on tight.
He howled, a high-pitched wail of terror and pain.
She might not have the same sharp fangs as most of the pack, but hers could still work just fine.
“She’s biting me,” he screamed.
Rough hands tangled in her hair, wrenching her backward.
Her hold broke, but not without a sharp tearing. Warm liquid burst in her mouth. She spat it out. She wanted no part of this disgusting Other inside her.
“You fucking bitch. You’ll pay for that.”
A fist rushed toward her face.
A snap of wind. A hiss of air.
A rope curled around the careening fist.
The man’s hand jerked to a halt midstrike. Then, he flew back.
The weight atop her disappeared.
26
Grif sank his ax into the back of the last of the scum, his rage so great everything was shrouded in crimson, the blood spurting from the wounds of those at his feet not nearly enough. He wanted to paint the whole planet red for what they’d done.
Only the soft whimper at his back penetrated the roar of fury.
Nayla.
He swiveled round, kicking a body out of his way as he stormed toward her. “Tell me you’re okay.”
Wide frightened eyes bored into him, the moons’ rays making them shimmer along with her gorgeous skin. She stumbled upright, swaying on her feet, her weight heavy on one foot while the other barely brushed the ground.
Relief slammed through him. She was alive. And well enough to stand on her own. Thank the fucking gods. But she was hurt. Bruised. And something was wrong with her left ankle. The rays from the moon hid as much as they revealed.
“It’s okay, Nayla.” He raised his hands, palms out in a placating gesture meant to m
ake him appear more harmless, and noticed the bloody ax clenched tight in his fist. He buried the blade in the dirt. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her wide-eyed gaze flickered between him and his discarded weapon as if she couldn’t quite believe what he’d done.
He kept his palms up and out. “I don’t blame you for running and I’m not upset. I just want to make sure you’re okay."
She swiveled and ran.
Just like before. Except everything was different now.
He left his weapons and surged forward.
Thanks to his longer legs and her injured ankle, he caught up easily.
“Nayla, stop.” He cupped her shoulder, the warmth of her skin burning his palm.
Her body vibrated beneath his touch, as if caught between flight and obedience, before she shrugged him off and ran harder.
Her fierceness surprised him all over again.
She’d fought like such a wild thing in that pit. It had made him think she was hardier than she was. But now, with bruises crisscrossing her skin, she looked frighteningly fragile. All too easily breakable.
Except she hadn’t given up then, and she wouldn’t now.
His bid to keep his emotions in check took a bigger hit.
Arms wrapping around her, he took her down, twisting at the last moment so he ended up on the bottom, bearing the brunt of the fall.
She was still thrashing as he used his momentum to roll, bringing her under him. He did his best to keep the bulk of his weight off her. He had no intention of crushing her, just stilling her movements enough to keep her from hurting herself.
“Shhh, wild thing. It’s okay. I promise.” There was a good chance his crew had heard the same shouting he had. “You can’t keep running on that injury. You’ll hurt it worse.”
She made no sound, but fought harder.
He understood. Talg had forced horrific punishments on her and she likely expected the same from him. He’d started to show her that he was different, but it would take a lot more than one time for her to believe.
“No one is going to hurt you.” Using her momentum to his advantage, he lifted her and flipped her, turning her on to her back and stealing some of her leverage. He forced her hands above her head into the dirt. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have taken better care of you. I’m going to make up for that now. I need you to stop fighting before you accidentally hurt yourself. All I want to do is make sure you’re okay.”
“All?” Her skeptical gaze flickered to the rope at his hip. He’d used it during the initial attack, but switched to his ax once she was out of the strike zone.
“That’s it.” Transferring her wrists to one hand, he used the other to unlatch the rope from his holster. He tossed it aside.
Surprise flared in her gaze.
“I won’t use that rope to tie you up again. Unless you ask real nice.” He tried for a joke. It was better than yanking her from the dirt and cradling her close, proving to his panicked mind she really was alive and in one piece.
He suspected that kind of behavior would only cause her to run again. So, instead, he stayed where he was, and forced a smile while his gaze cataloged everything. The red hand print at her cheek, the marks around her throat, the bruises at her wrists, hips, and thighs.
“Your words playful, but your eyes angry. Like when you say all fine, but you argue with friends who come to cave.”
Shit. She knew him too well. Saw him too well. He should have remembered she wasn’t the only one whose true self was exposed back in the cave.
“I’m mad at myself for letting you get hurt, and I’m mad at those who hurt you.” He gave up pretending. “I want to rip them apart all over again for what they did to you.” Was it any wonder her kind wanted to kill his? So many of them deserved it. Him maybe most of all.
“You mad at me, too, for running.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.
“No, I’m not mad. I understand. I wish you’d stayed, but I didn’t give you a good enough reason to stick around. I’ll do better this time.”
She pretended not to hear. “Thank you for save me.” Her gaze shifted away from his. “I was scared. Th-thought I would join Void.”
“I will always come for you, Nayla. You’re not on your own anymore.”
He caught the flare of pleasure in her gaze, followed by dismissal. “N-no more nice words. I already give you information. No need pretend. No need pity me. I am fine.”
“I don’t pity you.” He rolled off her, but kept a firm hold of her elbow.
She sat up, dust flying. “That not what your crew say.”
He hid a flinch. What the hells had she heard? He racked his brain trying to remember what had been said. “I don’t pity you. I want to help you.”
“I don’t need.” Anger and pride glittered in her stare. “I am more than capable. I help Others knock you out. I put you in their chains.”
“And I returned the favor. I consider us even.”
“Y-you hate me. My kind.”
Rising to his knees, he clapped his hands around her forearms. “What I feel for you is far from hate.”
Her breathing hitched. There was longing in her stare, but the doubt was stronger.
“I’m not like Talg.” He reminded her. “You know that.”
Her gaze only narrowed. “I hear crew. You talk of destroying pack.”
Fucking Malin. That damn male and his big mouth had given her way too much ammunition to throw in his face. But Grif had always demanded honesty from her. He could only give the same.
“That depends on Talg and your pack’s willingness to return the females. If they back down, if they give up on the plan to annihilate us, I should be able to convince my crew to do the same.”
“Should.” She shrugged off his hold, and he let her. “You going to take full responsibility for pack too? Convince your commander not to kill them because you know how to handle them? You going to give them no choice like you do me?”
Hells. More of his earlier words thrown back in his face. She’d heard way too much of his conversation with Malin and Ryker, her grasp of the language far better than her ability to speak it. “I’ll do everything in my power to prevent bloodshed. I won’t apologize for my methods.”
“Talg never back down. He hate Others.”
“Then what do you expect?” Frustration sharpened his tone. “We’re not prey. We won’t just let ourselves be killed.”
Her chin rose a notch. “Neither will pack.”
He blew out a breath. “I’ll figure out a way to ensure it doesn’t come to that.”
“Im-impossible.”
“I need you to trust me, Nayla. I’ll make this work. I’ll find a way. I’ll take you to my crew and—”
She stiffened. “Go to Others? No. I will not. They don’t want me. I won’t be a burden. Not again.”
“I’ll keep you safe.” Blood pumping, he jumped to standing, pulling her up with him, absorbing her weight so she could stand on one foot without difficulty. His arm clamped tight at her elbow.
“No.” This time, she fought his hold. “I don’t need you save me. I no belong in Other camp.”
“You belong where I say you belong. Where I can keep you secure and unharmed.”
“No.”
His gaze narrowed. “I wish it could be different, but in this, neither of us have a choice. The noise from the fight will have attracted my crewmates’ attention. They’ll be here in a heartbeat. They need to see you as an ally, not the enemy. But I won’t let them touch a hair on your head, Nayla. Have faith.”
“No.” She thrashed harder. “I don’t like.”
“Then we’re even. I—”
Something huge slammed into his side.
Torn from Nayla’s side, he flew through the air and hit the ground hard.
27
The gentle rocking lulled Grif. The shift of solid brawn beneath his belly steady and sure. The slow scroll of a massive paw and blurred cracked dirt soothing. Even if the
claws at the end of the paw were kind of big and sharp and looked lethal glittering in the moons’ light.
He rocketed awake, and blew a feather out of his mouth. What in the hells? He lifted his head for a better look. His wrists were tied at his back, his ankles, too—with what felt like his own rope, no less—and he was slung over a familiar-looking feathered beast, catching an unrequested ride.
Last thing he remembered… “Nayla!”
“You awake. Good.” She twisted from her bareback perch at Sharluff’s front, reigns clutched in her hand, her relieved face peering down at him, those tiny lines at the bridge of her nose smoothing out.
Grif stared up at her, his voice a dangerous rumble. “Why am I tied up?”
Her expression shifted, sliding from worried to defiant—and pleased. “You my prisoner now.” She tapped her thigh, where one of his smaller daggers was now sheathed, before facing forward once more. “I in charge.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. She’d confiscated his weapon and, if he wasn’t mistaken—though it was a little hard to see from his limited vantage point—the clattering of metal against metal suggested that his pack, the rest of his weapons, and the harness that held them, were strapped to the beast’s side too, everything clanging together with each of the musty animal’s rolling steps. If his crew were around, he’d never hear the end of it.
On the other hand, she’d also taken his shirt—one he’d found while rummaging through an old Council drop capsule, and wrapped it around her, the too-big sleeves rolled up fifty times while the ends rested on her thighs, shifting with every sway of the beast’s tread.
He definitely liked her helping herself to his stuff. A lot.
Sharluff headed up a rocky red cliffside and the angle sent him sliding back a few inches. He wrestled with the binds at his back. Tried to roll himself off. Whatever she’d done, she’d secured him tight.
“I good with knots, too,” she observed.
Payback was a bitch.
“What happened?” His head pounded with every step.
“Sharluff come.” She patted the feathered beast’s thick neck sending the stink of animal winding through his lungs. “Afraid for me. Knock you out.”
