Page 14 of Warlord's Mate

His cock ached at the thought. Throbbed as he looked down at her in his bed. He could take her. She was his to do with as he pleased.

She’ll betray you like all the others.

The thought cleared his head in an instant. He scowled and pulled the shirt back down her legs, jerking on the furs and pulling them up to cover her bare legs then turned away.

He stripped, tossing his pants to the stool by the table before crawling into the bed. The scent lingering on the females skin hit him a moment later. He pushed her mass of hair away from her face and reminded himself again what happened the last time he lost his head to a female. The anger returned in an instant and he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

I should have left her on the floor.

He laid in silence until the sounds in camp died, indicating everyone had turned in for the night. “Tomorrow she sleeps on the floor.”

He rolled to his side, putting his back to the warmth of her skin and closed his eyes. Tomorrow … he’d put her in her place tomorrow and make sure she stayed there.

A noise drew Marcy from sleep and she blinked into the darkness, disoriented. She heard a soft hum of voices followed by the occasional burst of laughter and remembered then where she was—in the warlord’s camp.

His image filled her minds eye moments before she realized she wasn’t on the floor. The furs she lay on now were soft to the touch and held a scent that was purely masculine. In an instant, she knew she was in the warlord’s bed and felt the heat from his body against her back. He was spooned behind her, one arm draped over her waist.

Her heart gave one mighty thump before her pulse started to race. Should she move? She tried to look over her shoulder at him but was afraid to wake him.

She’d never sleep walked as far as she knew, but was pretty sure she hadn’t gotten into the bed by herself. Had the warlord picked her up and put her there? And if so, why?

He stirred behind her, his face moving against her hair before he pulled her closer to him. Marcy’s breath caught, and she didn’t move until he settled again.

Why was her life always so messed up? Ending up on a space ship, dropped in a hostile environment, then finding herself in bed with an alien who scared the shit out of her shouldn’t have surprised her. Her life had been depressingly fucked up before the aliens took her. The only highlight in her life had been her teaching job. It wasn’t much, but it was fun. Belly dancing was an art form most of her family scoffed at but she’d enjoyed it—and she was damn good at it, too. So good her ex-boyfriend had turned into a crazy stalker who had to have a restraining order taken out against him to keep him away from her studio.

Of course, her talent for shaking her ass was all for nothing now. She doubted life on Prison Moon One would ever call for a belly dancing red-head who knew how to grab a man’s attention and keep it. Then again, one never knew when a hidden talent would come in handy, but she didn’t see how it would benefit her here.

The warlord’s camp was primitive, their idea of a bathroom being nothing but a wooden box with a hole cut into it and a deep ass trench underneath it. At least someone had thought to erect make-shift cloth walls for privacy. She was just happy they’d let her use it. Being more or less a slave gave her captors no reason to see to her comfort. Her not sleeping out in the open should have thrilled her. That and her not being passed around by a group of aliens as their human-sized sex doll like the others were at the moment.

But being in the warlord’s bed?

He moved again, mumbling something against her neck before his arm moved, his hand sliding right between her tits. At least she still had her shirt on and it was still pulled down over her ass. She had no idea if he still had clothes on or if he was butt ass naked. She wasn’t about to check, though. With her luck, he wasn’t and her feeling around for his pants might wake him and give him the wrong idea.

The noise outside finally died again and Marcy closed her eyes, resigned to stay right where she was, despite feeling as if she should move. Being in the warlord’s bed felt—

You belong to him. Why would you not be here?

She sighed. Like it or not, she was bound to his wishes and if he wanted her in his bed, then she’d be in his bed.There are worse fates than being the warlord’s personal concubine.

Jorrick, she thought. He had a name, although she wouldn’t dare utter it around him. She’d not heard a single person call him anything but warlord all day so she didn’t think calling him by name was something anyone did. Fine by her. Using his name meant they were on more familiar terms and their relationship was perfectly clear. She was his possession and nothing more and apparently—he wanted her in his bed. Why he hadn’t woken her and demanded more was a mystery, though.

When she’d been taken to the arena, she’d imagined all sorts of creatures crawling between her legs but none of them had looked like Jorrick did. For all his brusque ways, he was oddly fascinating, and she had to admit—if only to herself—he was damn good looking in a barbarian kind of way. His beard was too long for her liking but it wasn’t as if she had any say in his appearance. Or that it even mattered. He looked damned scary, and she had no doubt he was dangerous. One look at him told her as much. The predatory look in his eyes made her feel uneasy most of the time, not to mention those sharp ass fangs he had reminded her more of a vampire than anything else. Did they have vampires in space? She grinned. Space vampires. That was a sci-fi movie waiting to happen.

Jorrick’s leg slid between her own and she held her breath, waiting on him to wake up. She could tell by the heat of his leg he didn’t have pants on and she wondered if underwear was a thing here. Probably not, which meant he was probably butt-ass naked behind her.

Would this be her new normal? Sleeping in Jorrick’s bed, being spooned in the dark of night? It was oddly comforting, truth be told, for as scared as she’d been over the last however many week’s it had been since the aliens had captured her, she felt—safe. In this moment, wrapped in Jorrick’s embrace, she was protected and knew nothing could hurt her.

Nothing but him.

Chapter Five

The second time Marcy woke, the room was lit with muted light. The warlord was also not pressed against her back. The relief she felt at that small realization brought her head up. He wasn’t in the hut, to which she was glad. Regardless of enjoying being in that bed with him, facing him now would be embarrassing. What was she supposed to say to him? Did he expect her there every night? And if so, how long before he demanded more?

Tossing the furs away, she rolled to the edge of the mattress. A soft crinkling noise and the shifting of things underneath her told her the mattress was filled with something dry enough to make noise as she moved. She didn’t see any hay fields on the trek through the woods so she assumed it was grass or something similar.

Getting to her feet, she looked around the room, wondering what she was supposed to do. Her bladder told her it was find the bathroom but other than that, she had no clue what they expected of her every day.

She crossed the room to the doorway and peeked out. It was early still. There wasn’t a soul stirring that she could see.