Page 22 of Warlord's Mate
“The red mountains.”
The warlord tilted his head to one side. “I remember you from the arena. Why did you not fly home? If I were a dragon, walking would be my last mode of transportation for such a journey.”
Dragon?Marcy looked at the man with Sara, confused.
“The Corporation collared him.” Sara glanced at the male by her side, the shiny metal cuff around his neck gleaming in the sunlight. “It was one of the conditions of our release. If they find out Toren can take it off, they’ll hunt us down and kill him.”
Toren, as Sara called him, said, “It is too dangerous to shift into my true form or I would have already taken my mate far from here.”
Marcy stared at Toren, his words slow to penetrate. “Your true form?” She didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until Sara grinned.
“Remember that big ass blue dragon that snatched me out of the air? Well, turns out he’s a shapeshifter.” Sara nodded in Toren’s direction. “We went back to the temple to find you but you weren’t there. Are you all right?”
A hard press on her stomach told her to remain quiet.
The moment Sara realized she wasn’t going to answer, her friend threw a glare at the warlord. “Blink once for yes, Marcy, twice for no.”
Was she all right? She was alive, so far hadn’t been raped, and she was clean and had on clothes you couldn’t see through. All things considered, she could be worse. She blinked as the warlord’s hand continued to press against her stomach.
Sara’s jaw clenched. “Is she not allowed to speak?”
“She does only what I tell her to.”
In the past, that one statement would have been enough to make her come up fighting—had it been anyone other than the warlord who'd said it. She knew next to nothing about him but she wasn’t stupid. He’d killed one of his own men without a word said so she didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d kill her and not lose a minute of sleep over it.
The man—dragon—linked his hand with Sara’s. “Are we prisoners here?” He looked at those standing guard around them, then back to the small disk the warlord was toying with. “If not, give me the key to the collar and we’ll be on our way.”
No one said anything for long minutes, the air around camp filling with tension the longer the silence gathered. When the warlord finally spoke, everyone seemed to take a breath in unison. “What guarantee do I have you won’t shift the moment we remove that collar and burn us all?”
“They took his fire.” It was Sara who answered. “It was the other condition of our release. They were going to kill him after he won his battle but I was able to persuade them to remove his fire instead. The collar was to remain on but one of the guards slipped him the key when he released Toren’s handcuffs. If he shifts, they’ll know.” She looked up as one of the small camera orbs flew into view. “If they see him shift, they’ll know.”
They probably already did, but Marcy didn’t say as much out loud.
The warlord held up the small metal disk, turning it in his fingers as he looked at it. “And why did you not toss it aside once you were free of it?”
“Because if for any reason the wyvern came looking for us, that collar would need to be right where they left it, which was on his neck so, we kept it—just in case.”
The warlord lowered his arm and studied them both, finally looking at the man with Sara. “If you so much as look as if you are going to shift into your true form, I will remove your mate’s head from her body and make you watch her corpse rot. Then I will take your own.”
“He won’t,” Sara assured him. “You have my word.”
“The word of a female is nothing but a mouth full of lies. Do not test me, you will not like the outcome.” The warlord gave them both an icy look before nodding his head to Vikram. “Release them and get the dragon something to wear. I tire of looking at his cock.”
Chapter Eight
If asked why he’d allowed the little red one to go to her companion, Jorrick wasn’t sure he’d have an answer. Instinct told him to lock her away, to not let her anywhere near the outsiders but he’d done the complete opposite.
Once the male had been brought clothing and was dressed, the tension drawing Jorrick’s shoulders near his ears had relaxed. Nothing screamed challenge more than a male with his cock out and one nearly as impressive as his own so near the female he’d had on his lap made him want to kill the dragon where he stood. Him feeling territorial over her stunned him more than the knowledge a dragon had been lurking outside his camp. Had he taken any of the other females, Jorrick would have been annoyed at best, but only because he’d have to assign a few of his men to the females’ daily tasks, something they would grumble about until he acquired replacements to take over those duties again. But her? He’d rip that dragon’s head off and drink from his skull.
The sun had lowered in the sky, the shadows from the trees falling over the camp enough the central fire pit had been lit to provide enough light to see. Mar-see, as the other female had called her, was smiling and playing with that mass of red curls attached to her head. He’d lost count of how many times she’d braided and unbraided it, twisted it into a long, coiled rope then let it unravel before tossing it over her shoulder.
Her voice sounded hoarse. No wonder with the way Reitlas had hit her. It was a wonder he hadn't crushed her windpipe as hard as he'd swung at her.
Heat filled his veins as he remembered the way her feet had flown out from under her. At how hard she'd hit the ground, and each gasping breath she took made something inside him pull tight until it finally snapped.
He'd killed Reitlas too quickly and wished he could do it all over again. He'd string him up by his feet this time and slowly gut him, waiting until gravity pulled his entrails to the ground beneath him as a lesson to the others.
The dragon’s mate threw her head back and laughed, Mar-see, doing the same. It was the first time he’d seen her smile.