by Lisa Lace
“Come for me,” she begged. “Baby, please?”
He nodded with a low growl. “Anything,” he whispered. “Anything for you.”
She grinned and he rolled forward, laying her on her back on the rug. He began to rock his hips, back and forth. He was holding himself up on his arms. She was squirming deliciously beneath him. He moved in a raw, passionate fury as he came hard. He cried out as she moaned, her sweet pussy clenching around his throbbing cock. His hot seed spilled into her tight pussy. He thrust in once more before he exhaled, pulling out of her. He lay down beside her, placing his large hand on her flat stomach.
“I missed you,” he said.
She smiled at him. “I was so angry with you.” Her voice was soft, almost sad.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She sighed, clasping his hand in both of hers.
“From now on, we work as a team,” Jurgen promised. Her grin was so worth it.
“Come on,” Zandra said. “We have a celebration and a funeral to go to.”
“Let’s stay here,” Jurgen suggested, nuzzling her hair.
“Not a chance,” Zandra shot back with a wicked grin.
He glared at her, and she laughed. Naked, she stood up and made her way to the wardrobe. He watched as she walked—the sensual sway of her hips, the straightness of her spine, the soft curves of her ass. His body was filled with desire, so strong that he would have torn the house down. He felt like he was on fire, and she was the only being on the face of Erusha who would be able to stop it. She slid a soft, silken gray dress on. The back of it plunged, clinging to her hips. She turned. He could see the same desire that ate at him in her eyes.
“I can hear the drums,” she said lightly.
“I hear nothing,” he lied.
“Jurgen Apaknor is late,” she whispered coquettishly.
“Everyone is early,” he countered.
She walked toward him, holding out her hand. He stood and took it, pulling her close to him again. She looked down at his body as he knelt before her on the floor, the heat in her eyes threatening to take him alive. She looked up into his face. He leaned in and kissed her. They would be late, but he didn’t care. He picked her up, carrying her to the bed. She squealed.
Next to him, the Mawari chief cleared his throat. Jurgen turned to him. All of the warriors were gathered. The ceremony to cement the alliance was about to take place before the Mawari began their trek back to their settlement.
“You owe us blood,” Oden reminded him, thus beginning the ceremony. “While our tribes were victorious yesterday, the Mawari lost five Alpha warriors in our quest to help you save the Apaknor Tribe and settlement.”
“Name your price,” Jurgen replied. They were both speaking loud enough so that all could hear. He wrapped his arm around Zandra’s shoulders. She was dressed in the emerald-green dress that day. It matched the color of her eyes exactly. “We are only too happy to solidify our allegiance with the Mawari.”
Jurgen’s heart sank as Oden pointed at Zandra. “We ask for the female warrior,” Oden said. “She will be our queen.”
“No,” Jurgen growled.
“You know the warrior’s code,” Oden pointed out, a smug grin on his face. He knew he had trapped Jurgen in a checkmate.
“I do,” Jurgen replied.
“Then she is ours,” Oden stated simply.
Jurgen felt sick. He had agreed to this. Mawari blood had been spilled to protect the Apaknor from being wiped out.
“Anything,” he said, fighting to keep from begging. He needed to remain dignified. “Anything else. Zandra has claimed me.”
“We ask for the woman warrior. And nothing else,” Oden replied. The two warriors flanking the Mawari chief lowered their blades, prepared to take Jurgen’s head should he refuse.
Jurgen could hear his own warriors behind him, protesting the price. He could not look meet Zandra’s eyes.
“Jurgen?” she asked, fear and anger in her voice. “Are you serious?”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t deserve her. He felt her clutch at his arm as Oden reached for her. For a moment, her tiny nails dug into his flesh, raking over it as Oden dragged her away from him forever.
Zandra
Zandra looked at Jurgen in shock. He did not meet her angry gaze as the other chief pulled her away from his side. All gathered were silent. She looked over to the Apaknor Tribe, where her friends had looks of rage and horror on their faces. A large hand fell upon her shoulder. She had just fought in a battle to save the Apaknor from being wiped out by the Saavi and Junta Tribes combined. And just last night, Jurgen had made love to her. How could he give her up? To another man? She had thought that in some way, she meant something to him. Evidently, she was merely a bargaining chip. He had lied—he did not believe she was his equal. That was now clear to her. She had never felt so betrayed in her life. She willed him to look at her as she felt the hand of the other chief on her shoulder. When he did not, she turned her head to look at her new mate.
“Come, my queen,” Oden’s deep voice rumbled as he grinned, baring his yellowed teeth, which had been filed to sharp points. One of his natural fangs was broken off. He was large—larger even than Jurgen. His beard and hair were long and braided. He was so muscular he looked hunched over, causing a shadow to fall upon Zandra. She tried to push his massive hand off her shoulder, but it didn’t budge.
“Let me go,” she hissed. “I belong to no one.”
He laughed, wheezing slightly. “She has fire in her to match her hair,” he announced. He looked at Jurgen triumphantly. The Apaknor chief still did not look up. “I like it.” He turned to his warriors. “Come! We must return to our settlement. Happy hunting, Jurgen Apaknor.”
Zandra glared at Jurgen. How dare he? she thought.
“Look at me!” she screamed at him, refusing to move. “Jurgen! Look at me!”
He raised his eyes to her. He looked devastated, but evidently, not enough to do anything. She froze. Two members of the Mawari Tribe grabbed her by her upper arms. Their grip was iron, and she found herself forced to walk or risk being dragged. As she moved, she glanced back at the other women one last time. Fear was evident in their faces. If this could happen to her, what did that say about their own security?
Zandra struggled against her captors, clawing at their hands. She found herself thrown over a large, muscular shoulder, her legs pinned by an arm like a vise. She stopped struggling—there was nowhere to run. There was no one who would save her. She let herself hang limply. The shoulder that held her jutted painfully into her stomach as the warrior moved.
She looked back at the Apaknor settlement, watching as it receded into the distance. She had begun to think of it as home. Now, it meant nothing to her. She was being carried to her death—being a mate to the Mawari leader certainly meant the end of her living any sort of life. The survivor within Zandra had gone silent. She saw no way out.
“When we return to the settlement this night, you will be my mate,” the chief told her. He had ordered her put down, and now he was walking beside her.
“No, I won’t,” Zandra replied tiredly, despite knowing that arguing would get her nowhere.
The chief laughed again. “You are mine now,” he reminded her. “To do as I say.” He reached out to touch her cheek, and she slapped his hand away, rage rising inside her.
“No,” she stated flatly. The survivor within her began to awaken as she recalled Erushan law— if she refused his claim, she could maybe save herself. For how long before the next male tried to claim her, she wasn’t sure. Unfortunately, Oden didn’t seem put out, walking beside her with a slight bounce in his step. She could feel the shock in the ground when his feet made contact. Jeez. He’s huge, she thought.
“That is the price demanded by the warrior’s code,” he pointed out, but the term had no meaning for her. No one had told her about this price, or even if she wished to pay it. She thought back to Maxine’s bursts of pedantry—she had nev
er mentioned anything about a warrior’s code. It was likely the matchmaker had overlooked it—it had nothing to do with marriage.
“That is the price demanded by you. I do not choose to pay it,” she explained as though she were speaking to a child. He laughed again, as if she understood nothing, but left her alone. She walked on in silence, her mind busy at work.
She considered the landscape, glancing around to see if there was somewhere she could hide. Now that she had had time to think, her resolve and will to survive were beginning to return full force. She glanced briefly at the warriors around her. Each was equipped with a blaster and some sort of blade. She decided to keep an eye out in case they weren’t paying close enough attention to their weapons, even though that didn’t seem likely. Alpha warriors were rarely caught unawares. Additionally, they were so highly trained with weapons that they seemed to be an extension of their bodies. Regardless of it being a long shot, it was still an option to keep her eye on.
Up ahead she saw small curls of smoke rising into the sky as the Mawari settlement came into view. It was larger than the Apaknor settlement, but it was, in comparison, squalid. As they neared, she could smell it—a combination of garbage, cooking meat, and bodily waste. She fought to not gag as she recalled the Saavi settlement, which had been quite a bit smaller, but smelled almost the same. Many of the buildings were in disrepair, and some of them were one strong wind away from falling in on themselves. There was no wall around the settlement. Instead, large groups of Alpha warriors patrolled the outskirts. Her heart sank. Once she entered, it would be difficult to escape.
Jurgen
There was food set out for everyone, but no one was touching it. A silence had fallen over the Alpha warriors as they sat at their midday meal in the mess hall. They had lost several of their own in the battle. And Zandra, Jurgen thought. The women all looked sad and frightened. The tribe’s morale was another responsibility of the chief. He knew that this fear and grief was on his shoulders. He turned to Auslur, who sat beside him.
“Do the women blame me for this?” he asked, despite knowing the answer.
“In short, yes,” Clara muttered in an uncharacteristically sharp manner. She sat on Auslur’s other side, but she made sure that her voice carried. Jurgen felt like he had been slapped. She did not look at him but kept her gaze on the plate in front of her.
Auslur stepped in. “They need to be instructed in Erushan Law,” he said. “But yes, this is on you.”
Jurgen frowned. “Did I not do right?”
Auslur looked over at him. “No,” he replied simply. “You did not do right.”
Jurgen returned Auslur’s gaze. Fury, thinly veiled, was evident on the older warrior’s face.
“We need the Mawari as our allies,” Jurgen pointed out.
“We don’t,” Auslur argued. “We have the wall. We have many future warriors coming, and we have many current warriors. We do not need to call anyone ‘friend’ who takes one of our own as payment for that friendship.”
“To break a blood oath is to incur the wrath of the goddess,” Jurgen said.
“Is that your opinion or only what has been drilled into you from an early age? There is a separation, my liege.”
“It is what is necessary,” Jurgen replied, although he could see Auslur’s point. The two things were separate and not at all the same. It was what had been taught to him by his father. But he would rather have Zandra than the goddess’s favor. Auslur was still glaring at him.
“So be it. Do you not love Zandra? Does she mean nothing to you?” Auslur snapped. His anger was seeping out of him. “She is a true queen and should not be given up so easily as you did today.”
“But—” Jurgen began.
Auslur slammed his fist on the table, causing the shiny new silverware to clink and jump. His eyes flashed with anger. Clara placed a calming hand on his arm.
“No,” Auslur said, placing his hand over Clara’s. “If you cannot protect the woman you love, then your oaths mean nothing. If you truly love her, you will forsake all other bonds before you forsake her.”
Jurgen sat quietly. Slowly, he nodded. He stood and waited for the room to fall silent before he spoke.
“We need to go and rescue a member of our tribe,” he said. “I have made a grave mistake. She is not some chattel to be traded. She is a warrior, who has risked her life for this tribe. To abandon her would be negligent. By taking our queen, the Mawari Tribe has committed a grave crime against the Apaknor Tribe.”
The room burst into sound as the tribe roared their approval.
“Let’s go rescue Zandra,” Jurgen yelled.
The whole tribe rose, chairs falling to the ground as the warriors moved to get their weapons. Jurgen turned to Auslur. The older warrior was hugging Clara fiercely. The couple looked at him.
“Thank you,” he told them.
They both nodded.
“Go bring her home,” Clara told him. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the ring he had given Zandra.
“How do you have this?” he asked.
She smiled. “She gave it to me while you were fighting,” she explained. “She wanted to give it back to you. I told her that I would take it for safekeeping. It was a bit of luck, to be honest. The Mawari would have taken it.” It was clear Clara had not yet forgiven him. He placed the ring in his pocket.
“I will bring her back safely,” he promised.
“You’d better,” Clara told him, a warning in her voice.
Zandra
The Mawari chief led Zandra to the center of the settlement, if it could be called that. Many of the buildings had indeed fallen down. It was evident that families still lived in the ramshackle structures. They watched in silence, peering out of the ruins that had once been huts. This tribe had women and children, who looked filthy. She had not seen any Erushan women before this, or if she had, she hadn’t been able to tell them apart from the males. They had long gray hair, which was pulled back in plaits. They wore silken cloth, which was ragged and barely covered them. Their greenish-blue skin was dirty. Their lives didn’t seem luxurious or even worth living.
At the very center of the settlement there was a raised platform beside a firepit. From the platform, Zandra could see out over the buildings, out over the plains. She looked over the gathering of Mawari. The crowd was at least twice the number of the Apaknor. There was a murmuring as they spoke among themselves. From the way they were all studying her, she knew that every eye was on her, every conversation was about her strange hair, her eyes, even the dress she wore.
“This woman is a warrior,” the chief said, his voice loud and resounding. The murmur became louder, infused with interest. “She fought bravely against the Saavi and Junta Tribes. But now she will lay down her weapons to be my wife and make me strong sons.”
Zandra felt sick. Never had a male disgusted her this much. “No, I won’t,” she stated loudly.
The chief raised an eyebrow. “Do tell,” he growled.
“You have not claimed me in a mating ritual,” she said. “And I have not claimed you in return. By tribal law, we are not married, nor shall we ever be.”
He laughed, the sound booming across the open space. “You can’t say no. I have already claimed you. We will have a wedding ceremony in the morning before the whole of the Mawari Tribe,” he told her bluntly. “Whether you like it or not.” He reached out, caressing her hair. She flinched. “Sleep well, my bride.”
Zandra noted the hint of malice in his voice. This man was dangerous. He would not go out of his way to be kind to her, and there was not one member of his tribe who would protect her from him.
A group of women came to her, taking her gently by the arm and guiding her through the crowd, which looked at her with interest, hundreds of sets of golden eyes, staring at her. She thought, for a moment, of fireflies trapped in a jar. That’s what she had become—merely a curiosity. The women were silent as they walked through the filthy dirt roads of the Mawari settlement
. One woman stood on each side of her, both of them holding her arms. They were more diminutive in stature than the men, but they were still taller and stronger than Zandra. Their grip was solid, reminding her that she was a prisoner. Clearly, they had been warned she was a flight risk.
They led her to a hut. Luckily, it was one that was still fully standing, with a door that creaked on rusty hinges. It was dark inside. The motion-activated lights turned on, but they barely lit the interior. The women sat down in a circle on the floor. Zandra followed suit, her mind instantly calculating whether she could sway them toward friendship.
“You should be happy. Oden will protect you,” one said. “He is the chief of one of the largest tribes of Erusha.”
“Indeed,” another agreed. “The Mawari still have women. This is good for you. You will not be alone in childbirth.”
“You will have many sons. They will grow strong with ours,” a third told her.
Zandra’s head was swimming. Were they actually content with their lot in life? Or was this an attempt at brainwashing?
“We want for nothing,” yet another said.
It was too dark for her to discern the speaker’s features. Her face was titled down so that it was entirely in shadow. When she raised her head, it caught the light—her face was covered in bruises. Zandra panicked.
“Please,” Zandra begged. “Help me escape.” She was met with a chorus of voices:
“Why?”
“Where would you go?”
“How would you survive alone?”
Zandra was silent. She honestly didn’t know.
“Many women and children were killed in the war. Now is the best time to be a woman. Very few tribes have any. We are cherished,” the bruised one stated. Her voice was sweet, syrupy.
