Page 10 of Warlord's Mate
The leather straps that crisscrossed over his chest was void of the knives that had been there earlier. His golden skin was stained red, blood covering most of his chest and arms and a few bright streaks were slashed across his face. His hair looked wet, either from sweat or blood and the long length of it stuck to his back. He looked terrifying, but all that registered to her dumbstruck brain was this big—man—who was covered in Lord only knew what from a battle where he’d killed untold numbers of aliens, looked fucking hot as hell stalking across camp.
There is something seriously wrong with you, Marcy.
She gawked at him, the blade she just now noticed in his hand coated in blood, and she reminded herself that this—alien—would probably offer her to his men when he got tired of her. Her thinking he was attractive was dangerous, and she’d be better off remembering it.
He stopped in front of Jityria, handing her the blade in his hand, then headed for the path that led to the pond she’d bathed in earlier. When she could no longer see him, she turned her head to find Jityria staring at her, the expression on her face full of hostility. Marcy sighed. Fighting with that one was going to get old.
She threw the broken remnants of pottery and the smashed baskets into the large fire pit that sat in the middle of camp and tried to keep a neutral expression on her face when Jityria marched over to where she stood. The look on her face still screamed how displeased she was with her, not that she cared, but being held against her will was bad enough. Having to deal with someone with a shitty attitude would only make it worse.
Jityria turned to the female whose skin was a pale pink and could easily pass for human if it weren’t for her flared nose and enormous eyes. “Tezhila, take this one to Cayen. She will serve the others.”
Tezhila, the pink female apparently, nodded to Jityria and hurried her way, nodding in the other direction. Marcy took the subtle hint and followed her, crossing camp past the warlord’s hut.
The scent of cooking meat hit her moments before she saw a makeshift kitchen sitting beneath the trees. An open fire pit sat next to a hole in the ground and a look down into it showed a cooking pit, meat of some kind roasting over hot coals.
Two aliens looked her way. One she’d seen talking to the warlord earlier and shared the same golden hue to his skin. Unlike the warlord, this one's beard was cut close to his face and his long hair was adorned with twin braids near his temples.
The other alien was tall and thin, his skin a brownish-green. His hair grew down the back of his neck to end just under his shoulder blades. He reminded her of a dog in the face, his snout long and a pair of massive tusks were sticking up from the bottom row of his teeth to curve over his top lip.
The golden alien grabbed something from a bowl on a work table and popped it into his mouth before looking at her and grinning. “Welcome to camp.”
Marcy raised an eyebrow at him. He laughed and grabbed more of whatever it was he was eating from the bowl. “You have the most expressive face I’ve seen of any female here. Everything you’re thinking is written there for any to see.”
“And what am I thinking now?”
He laughed. “That I’m a nosey bastard and you have no idea why I’m talking to you.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“I’m Aris.” He nodded to the dog-like alien. “And that’s Cayen. He’s not the friendly sort so stay away from him unless you’re forced to be in his presence—like now.”
Cayen mumbled something under his breath and grunted, the noise coming from deep in his throat, before reaching for a large rounded platter. Tezhlia took it from him and turned to offer it to her. “Take this down the path and place it on the table.”
The platter was heavier than it looked and Marcy strained under the weight of it. She wasn’t sure what sort of creature it was they were eating but it smelled horrid.
“It tastes better than it smells. Well, it does when Cayen doesn’t cook it through. Its best when the blood is still running.” Marcy nearly gagged as Aris grinned again. “But don’t ask what it is. You’d never eat it if you knew.”
“Thanks for the tip.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to eat the stinking thing whether she knew what it was or not.
She held her breath and started down the path, the sound of voices growing in volume the further she walked. The bushes and trees gave way to a large clearing a few hundred feet away, the longest table she’d ever seen sitting in the middle of it.
A dozen or more aliens were already there, drinking from cups that looked as if they were carved from large bones. The blue alien and the female that reminded her of a fairy were carrying large pitchers and filling the cups around the table.
Marcy set the platter down on the table and was shoved out of the way as the aliens started pulling hunks of meat from whatever animal it was Cayen had cooked. She stood there gaping at them as the platter was pulled down the table, loud grunts and the occasional curse word thrown as they fought over the food.
Something slammed into her back hard enough she stumbled. She caught herself on the edge of the table and looked behind her to see Jityria who reached out, took her arm and shoved her in the direction of the path.
“Your job is to serve,sevit. Now move.”
The words,does not translate, filled her head at the wordsevit. Marcy wasn’t sure what it meant but if Jityria had used it with her, she was sure it was a curse word of some kind.
She headed back to the cooking pits and passed Tezhila on the path, the female not making any eye contact with her. She was handed a large bowl by Cayen and Marcy gagged as she looked down into it. It was fill with the wevolts. They were in a thick brown liquid and still wiggling. Did they eat them? While they were still alive? She gagged again.
After endless trips back and forth to the table, the alien’s meal was finally set out for them. Tezhila handed her one of the pitchers. The liquid inside had a strong odor that burned her nose. She started around the table, stepping between the aliens to refill cups and gasped when the one to her right grabbed her ass. He grinned, his toothy smile showing her teeth sharp enough to cut bone in half.
Every alien she stopped beside of did the same, all of them laughing as each one grew more brave. When an alien that reminded her of a snake stuck his hand up between her legs, his fingers grazing her pussy, she jerked out of his grasp and backed away from the table. So much for the warlord’s order that no one was to touch her.
The snake-like alien had scales over the entirety of his body. His skin was muted shades of bronze and copper and when he grinned and stuck his tongue out, wiggling the forked end at her, she wondered what bizarre planet a walking, talking snake came from.