Page 2 of Warlord's Mate
The girls in the cells had stopped whimpering, their attention on her. She’d stood in those same open cells day after day as girls were taken and put up here on display, while those creatures that lived here fought until death for the privilege to take them home. Those girls had screamed, cried, and begged and she'd not show the same weakness. If she looked like trouble, then maybe no one would want her.
In all those previous battles, the aliens who fought for the others had laughed when they collected their screaming prize but they’d not take her so easy. They’d not takeherwithout a fight. She’d rather they killed her to be honest and had tried her best to get the guards to do just that. Had caused enough problems to give them reason to, but all they'd done was haul her out of the cage and taken her underground, locking her in a cell all by herself, which had been fine by her. A private cell meant she didn't have to sleep crowded around a group of girls who stank worse than she did, or try to ignore the overflowing bucket of human waste in the corner.
She’d gotten comfortable in the dank hole they’d kept her in and she’d been down there so long, she had thought they’d forgotten about her. Now, staring at the aliens watching her, she knew just how foolish she was. It didn’t mean she would go peacefully, though.
Marcy tried to jerk away from the guard again. He snarled, his yellowed fangs showing as he snatched her back into place then cuffed her in the back of the head, ordering her to stay put.
Like an idiot, she spit in his face.
The laughs from the aliens along the low-lying planks they were standing on echoed inside the ring. The guard growled deep in his throat as he wiped away the spittle. When he brought his hand down, the back of it catching her across the side of her face, pain exploded inside her head as her knees went out from under her and she hit the floor. Jerked to her feet, the guard dragged her to the back of the platform and slammed her against the wall. He lifted her arms, the short chain that ran from each cuff on her wrist hooked on a sharp piece of metal sticking out from the wall and when the guard stepped back, the smile on his face looked feral.
Arms cuffed and raised over her head, Marcy dangled, her toes barely touching the ground. The guard grabbed the front of her dress and jerked it so violently, her body flew forward, then swung back to hit the wall behind her when the material ripped, the dress coming away in his hands. Marcy gasped, and the noise died in an instant. She heard nothing but complete silence. It didn’t last long, though. As if the sight of her pale limbs and fire-crotch was enough to shake the world, the aliens started jumping off the planks and running into the ring.
The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers as he informed them of the next prize up for grabs and mentioned her hair, which she supposed was a selling point. As long as she'd been here, she'd never seen another red-head. The guard grabbed a handful of her hair and gave her head a hard shake before letting go, her head smacking back against the wall.
When the world stopped spinning, Marcy focused on the aliens who’d stepped into the ring. Over a dozen leered at her. As aliens went, most of these were on the grotesque side. Bulbous heads, extra appendages, and she hated to even think about what the penis of that flat-headed, gaped-mouthed thing looked like.
The announcer asked for any others. Marcy scanned those still on the planks. More horrifying looking creatures stared back at her. Every size and shape imaginable and one huge—thing—that looked a lot like the beast in one of her favorite book series stared at her. She didn’t think that big ass thing would shape-shift and turn into Jericho Barrons, though. She’d volunteer to be his human plaything if he did.
More than a few of them would have passed for human if it weren’t for their skin color or the mere size of them. A tall alien in the back kept drawing her attention. He stood a good head taller than all the rest and looked to be wearing a skull mask—at least she hoped it was a mask—with large white horns sticking up from the top of his head. Thick brown fur covered his body and even from this distance, she could see his eyes were an unusual, bright shade of amber.
The aliens in the ring started shifting again. Half a dozen or more were facing the platform when she looked and an orange hulking—thing—stepped down to join the rest. His head was bald and bulky large muscles lay beneath his skin. His eyes were black, his mouth lipless. When he joined the others, three aliens that had been standing in the ring scurried back to rejoin the others on the planks.
The huge orange thing smiled. Or at least she thought he was. His mouth grew wider as he turned to the others standing there facing the platform before yelling, “Destroy all!” He lifted a beefy hand and pounded his chest caveman style. “Kr'Atek strongest!” He turned to her and growled, “Prize mine.”
The remaining aliens in the ring looked at each other before two more headed back to the planks. The massive orange thing and three others remained. The orange alien faced them and bellowed, “Crush you! Female mine!”
Bile churned in Marcy’s stomach at the prospect of being that creature’s plaything. It was four times her size and ugly as sin. The three other aliens were large as well but nowhere near as muscular as the orange thing. He looked as if he could crush her with nothing but one swing of his fist.
Commotion amongst the aliens drew her eye and her heart gave one powerful thump in her chest when the tall alien with the skull mask stepped down into the ring. The brown fur she'd thought covered his body turned out to be a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He was bare-chested except for two criss-crossing leather straps with varying sizes of blades fitted into slots all along the leather. His skin had a gold tint to it and he was almost as muscled as the orange alien. His thighs were massive and as he crossed the ring, that eerie silence that had fallen over the arena when the guard had stripped her of her clothes fell again as he walked toward the platform.
To her horrifying disbelief, the orange alien looked almost scared.
The other three aliens scurried back to the planks when skull face stopped beside them and looked their way. The orange things forehead wrinkled enough for Marcy to think he was glowering at the newcomer and to her amazement, he shifted on his feet and looked between her and the newest challenger. Long minutes ticked by before he bared his teeth. With a loud roaring growl, he turned and walked away.
Skull face was the only one left in the ring. He stared at the orange beast until he’d joined the others, then looked at her. From here, she could tell he was wearing a mask. The only thing she could see of his face was his eyes and the lower half of his bearded chin. A headpiece attached to the cloak held the horns but the rest of him, every bulging muscle, was him. At least he looked human—in an overly exaggerated Dwayne Johnson kind of way.
He took two steps toward the platform and held up his arm. Marcy could only imagine the fresh hell awaiting her at the other end of that outstretched hand. His gaze slid over her body, pausing briefly at her breasts before going lower and stopping. The need to cover herself burned her face and intensified when he finally lifted his head and locked eyes with her.
The guard grabbed her arms and jerked them from the metal spike in the wall “Let me see you spit on him, human.” He pulled her across the platform and jerked her to a stop inches from that outstretched hand. “I only wish I could be there to see how he breaks you.” He laughed and lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “Welcome to Prison Moon One, bitch. You belong to the Warlord, now.”
The bastard threw her off the platform. Marcy hit the ground with a jarring thump, her face slamming into the ground while her teeth clanked together so hard she bit her tongue. She cursed under her breath and sat up with a groan, glancing at the alien who’d won her by doing nothing but standing there looking menacing. He was staring down at her, some unreadable emotion showing in his strangely colored eyes.
She spit blood from her mouth and turned her head to glare at the guard. He laughed and jumped to the ground.
Her alien owner moved so fast she barely tracked him as he grabbed the guard, one large hand closing over the side of the guard's head before slamming him to the ground beside her. The warlord, as the guard had called him, leaned down, pressing the side of the guard’s face into the dirt and said, “You do not touch what is mine.”
She’d seen many things reflected in the guards eyes since she’d been here but genuine fear had never been one of them. The guard’s eyes were wide and locked on her, his face a funny shade of red.
“Apologize.”
Marcy looked at the warlord, then back down to the guard. The fear she’d seen in his eyes moments ago bled into pure hatred, his face turning a brighter shade of red as the warlord pressed harder on the side of his head until the words, “I’m sorry,” wheezed out past his squeezed lips. As quick as the warlord had taken the guard down, he let him go and stood to his full height. He glanced at her then turned and walked away, heading across the arena without a word.
Another guard stepped into her line of sight as the one on the ground mumbled something under his breath and stood. The new guard grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, then reached for her bound wrists. Marcy winced as the metal cuffs once again bit into her flesh. The pain was enough for her to almost be glad they were being removed but no cuffs meant she was officially someone’s property.
The warlord was now near the arena gates. As the guard worked the locks on her cuffs, he whispered, “Stay two steps behind him and speak to no one but him. You are the warlord’s now. No one exists to you but him. Got it?”
When she didn’t answer, he squeezed her bloody wrist. She winced in pain and looked at him. She’d not seen this guard before. He was bald like the rest of them were and had patches of scales on his skin but something in his eyes said he wasn’t like the others. “Am I to walk out naked? Your asshole friend ripped my dress off.”