Page 20 of Adtovar (The Alliance Rescue #1)

“Well, if you will excuse me.” I attempted to walk past him, but a burly arm shot out, effectively blocking my path.

The stench that emanated from him was overpowering.

While I found the musky aroma Adtovar carried after returning from the arena alluring, this male’s scent was putrid.

A pungent blend of blood and death that seemed to cling to his skin, suffocating the air around me.

I found myself perilously close to him, too close. Before I had a chance to retreat, his hand lunged forward, massive fingers tangling themselves in my wild curls. I stumbled backward, the sharp, painful twinge on my scalp as he attempted to hang on to my hair more welcome than being near him.

Melakor did not seem bothered. In fact, he smiled. “Did you know one of the reasons I agreed to come to this pit was because I’d heard Bozzo had a human female?” His usually gruff voice had a smooth quality to it, as if he were attempting to be charming. It didn’t work.

“Really?”I schooled my features into calm, even as the palpable sensation of danger crackled across my skin like static electricity.

“Then I get here and discover that while Bozzo has acquired a tasty little human morsel, he’s scared of her.” Another rolling, gravelly sound that obviously was his version of a laugh.

I gathered myself up to every inch of my five foot seven and was still almost two heads shorter than Melakor. “Voodoo is a powerful magick,” I warned and hoped he didn’t notice the trembling in my voice. “My gods dislike seeing me hurt.”

He rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “I’ve fought gods before. Under my hands, they bleed and die like everybody else.”

Shit! I was in deep trouble. A fact reiterated when Melakor took a step towards me.

“I’d just about talked Bozzo into letting me have you for a prize when the Aljani showed up. Now, there are no prizes for anyone.” He frowned as I took a step backward, trying to regain the space between us.

Melakor continued his advance, each step echoing with a heavy thud on the earthen floor. My feet shuffled backward over the uneven ground until I felt the cold, unyielding surface of the stone wall pressed against my back, signaling I had nowhere left to go.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a human.” He leaned over and sniffed me. This time, when he grabbed for a handful of my curls, I could not evade him. “Your kind seems so soft, so breakable.”

“Adtovar will kill you if you hurt me,” I spat the words at him, knowing the truth of them.

Melakor simply made a sound that sufficed for a laugh. “He will try, no doubt. I’ve seen the way he scratches his horns.”

He’d been watching Adtovar too. “What are you? Some kind of peeping Tom skulking around and spying on everyone? Can’t a person scratch an itch in peace?”

His lips twitched while his dark eyes bore into mine. The intensity of his gaze felt hot and slimy. Then he laughed loudly. “You do not know what it means, do you human? When an Aljani’s horns itch?”

“So, his horns itch, so what? The air is dry down here.” I’d kill to get my hands on some moisturizing cream. Though, to be fair, I had noticed the itching, although it seemed to fade somewhat since Adtovar and I started fooling around.

Melakor chuckled, one thick, meaty finger trailing along my cheek. His touch felt like rough sandpaper. “An Aljani’s horns itch when they find their fated mate.”

What?

If it was true—and really, could I trust anything Melakor said—but if it was true, Adtovar’s horns seemed to itch like mad every time he was near me.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfed me—confusion swirled with euphoria, yet I schooled my features, determined not to let Melakor notice the flash of delight I felt.

Especially when his malevolent glare seemed to pierce through me with a sinister intent.

His rough fingertips landed under my chin, jerking my gaze to his. “The only thing better than fucking a human female will be fucking you, knowing I violate the mate of another.”

“You’re a bastard,” I hissed, to which he merely chuckled.

He leaned closer, sniffing and emitting low grunts as his face buried in the curve of my neck, his breath hot and slimy against my skin. The hand he held under my chin shifted, seizing my breast with a grip that was both invasive and painful.

Panic surged through me, the instinct to escape overpowering and instinctive.

Melakor might be a nearly eight-foot-tall alien male, but he was still a male with—I hoped—male vulnerabilities.

I shifted my hips, creating just enough distance to jerk my leg upward with all my might, landing a brutal kick to his groin.

The impact was jarringly solid, akin to kicking a boulder, and pain reverberated through my leg, likely hurting me as much as it did him, if not more.

Though I didn’t debilitate Melakor as I’d hoped, he gave a grunt of pain and surprise, stumbling backward.

Seizing the moment, I yanked the tote bag from my shoulder and swung it, smacking him in the side of the head with the bag full of rocks.

This time, his growl was all fury. I didn’t wait around.

I took off running, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

I was close to reaching the curve in the dimly lit corridor where proximity to the dining hall held the promise of rescue.

But suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my scalp as a hand plunged into my curls, yanking me backward with a force that sent me sprawling onto the hard, dirt floor.

Melakor towered over me, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

I fought, slapping and kicking for all I was worth, but it did little good.

With a grunt of aggravation, like a primitive caveman, he seized my hair once more, dragging me back down the corridor, my heels scraping against the rough floor, until we reached the confines of his cell.

He hoisted me up by the scruff of my neck, much like one would handle a misbehaving kitten, and hurled me across the room and onto the cot. The impact was so powerful that I almost tumbled over the edge, my momentum halted by a jarring collision with the cold stone wall.

Ears ringing like the aftermath of a thunderclap, I frantically scrambled to my knees.

He stalked toward me, his eyes dark pools of malice and lust. Melakor wouldn’t just rape me.

He would kill me, but I would not to go down without a fight.

As he lunged, instead of retreating from his grasp, I leaned into it, feeling the greasy sweat on his skin as my teeth sank deep into the flesh of his hand.

Hot, bitter blood flooded my mouth, and it took a considerable effort to keep from vomiting.

“Fight, little human. I do so enjoy it,” He chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver down my spine, just a second before the back of his hand collided with my cheek.

The sharp crack echoed in my ears as a searing pain exploded across my face, radiating outward in fiery tendrils.

I screamed, a raw, involuntary cry torn from my throat while my vision blurred and darkened at the edges.

My brain felt like it was ricocheting violently within my skull, threatening to drag me into unconsciousness.

I battled to stay awake, struggling fiercely, my hands slapping and scratching desperately as he tore the front of my tunic.

His patience with my resistance seemed to wane, and he placed a calloused hand around my throat, squeezing.

The world faded as air struggled to enter my lungs, replaced by the acrid stench of his breath and the harsh, abrasive touch of his hands on my skin.

My lungs screamed at the absence of oxygen.

The shadow of death loomed closer, a welcome reprieve from what Melakor intended.

My only regret was not being able to tell Adtovar I loved him.