Page 21 of Warlord's Mate
One look at the warlord’s face caused her lungs to seize again. This was the alien brutal enough to control all the others in camp.
There was nothing about the expression on his face that even resembled anything civilized. His whiskey-colored eyes had darkened in color to near black as he ran his gaze over her. Whatever it was he’d been looking for, he apparently found as he finally looked away, slinging the long blade he usually wore near his hip hard enough blood flew from the shiny metal.
A look at that snaky face lying in the dirt beside her was all it took to know the alien was dead. The warlord raised his head, slowly turning as he looked at those around the camp staring at him. “I will not repeat myself again. Touch her … and it will be the last thing you do.”
Marcy swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She glanced over at the dead alien. Her limbs started shaking as someone touched her shoulders, pulling on her to help her stand. She barely saw Celestia's blue arm before the female scurried back off to their little circle in front of their hut.
The warlord looked her over again when she was on her feet, then turned to face Sara.
Marcy wasn’t sure what had happened to her friend since the dragon had plucked her from the sky but she looked healthy. Her skin was glowing and even though she was being restrained, she was trying to get to a naked man. The woman in the arena she’d thought was Sara had been with a naked man too, so it had been her she’d seen.
She glanced at the man quickly before looking away. He looked human from what she could see and was butt-ass naked. She looked back at Sara, wanting to run to her but was afraid to. Tension still hung in the air and the dead alien was reminder enough of who was in charge here and she wasn’t going to move a muscle until the warlord told her to.
Jorrick turned and walked across the camp, stepping up on the dais before folding his big frame into his throne-like chair.
“Marcy, are you all right?”
Sara’s voice drew her attention away from the warlord. Did she answer? There weren’t many things that scared her but—looking back at the warlord—she’d admit he did at the moment. His size alone was intimidating and something in his eyes looked … brutal. Primal. And scary as fuck. Not an ounce of warmth dwelled there, and he’d killed the snaky alien without an ounce of remorse showing on his face.
Killed him for touching you.
The revelation hit her so hard she felt gut-punched. Her pulse started racing when he held up his hand toward her and said, “Come to me.”
That small request felt like her entire fate rested on it. The way he was looking at her, it probably did. Was he pissed she’d been running to Sara? Had he thought she was trying to run away? Probably.
She glanced back at Sara, her friends familiar face enough to bring tears to her eyes. She wanted to run to her and hold on for dear life but the warlord would more than likely kill them both if she went to Sara’s side instead of his own. But—if she did as he said, she’d be sealing her fate, admitting she was his property to Sara and everyone looking.
The warlord narrowed his eyes at her. “Do not think you have any other option. You do not. You will do as I say or you will pay for your disobedience.”
Well, that settled that debate. His threat of cutting out her tongue and making her wear it whispered through her head again. Looking at his face, she didn’t doubt for a moment he’d do it.
She gave Sara an apologetic look then crossed to where he sat, every step like a death keel gong in her head. When she stepped up on the dais his throne-like chair sat on and moved closer to him, he reached out and grabbed her arm, snatching her to him. She landed on his lap.
Marcy stiffened, clenching her jaw as he settled her on one large thigh, his arm circling her waist to pull her back against his chest. Sara and the man she was with were both shoved forward, the man, she just now realized, was bleeding and wore a strange metal cuff around his neck, much like the ones the guards had placed around her wrists.
One whole side of his chest and arm was covered in strange black markings and blood oozed from gashes dotted along those strange swirl of patterns.
Vikram grabbed Sara’s arm and pulled her closer to where they sat, the man she was with following. When Vikram reached the front of the platform, he stepped up and handed the warlord a small metal disk.
“It unlocks the collar,” Vikram said, before looking back at Sara and the naked man. “He should have tossed it away the moment he removed it. How he came about a key, I do not know.”
The warlord’s hold on her loosened, his hand splayed flat against her bare stomach. Marcy finally smiled when Sara looked over at her and said again, “Marcy, are you all right?”
Marcy took a breath to answer but the warlord’s hand against her stomach pressed harder against her skin. It was a silent demand to keep quiet. Looking across the cold fire pit to the dead alien, she did just that.
The warlord’s hold on her relaxed, his thumb making a lazy pass over her belly button. “Do you know this female, Mar-see?”
She turned her head to look at him when he said her name. For reasons she couldn’t explain, hearing him say it felt almost—intimate, the slight accent in his pronunciation of it making every muscle clench tight. “Yes,” she said. “She was on the same ship that brought me here.”
He held her gaze. “Why are you here?” Marcy was about to ask what he meant when she realized the question wasn’t for her. It was for Sara and her companion
The man Sara was with said, “Where is here?”
The warlord finally looked over at them. “My territory.”
“I was not aware this was your territory. I was trying to get my mate home where she would be safe, nothing more.”
“And where it home?”