Page 24 of Warlord's Mate
She stood and gave Sara a half smile, saying, “My master calls,” before starting around the fire pit. He stepped down off the platform before she reached him and headed toward the table sitting amongst the trees, leaving her to follow along behind him.
The other females, Jityria included for once, were darting back and forth between the tables and the path to the cooking pits, carrying out platters of food.
Two aliens ran past her and came running back a few moments later with the warlord’s chair, setting it at the head of the table. He mumbled something to the two aliens and turned, looking past her to Sara and Toren.
“Join us.”
Sara and Toren glanced at each other, speaking softly before they stood. Marcy stopped a few feet from the warlord, unsure of what to do. Did he want her to sit? Stand by his side as she usually did? Juggle rocks to entertain them as they ate?
He ignored her and sat down in his massive chair, making the two aliens to his right get up and move. Chairs were moved around, a few more added and when Sara and Toren stopped beside her, he motioned for them to sit in the vacant chairs to his right.
Sara gave her a quizzical look as she sat down, to which Marcy just shrugged her shoulders. It looked as if she would be the water-wench again, or whatever it was they drank.
The warlord was served first, Jityria handing him a plate filled with the bloodiest meat she’d ever seen. It looked like it had just been cut off into chunks and thrown into his plate. She forced herself not to gag. The turnip-like blue root Celestia calledesuap, were steaming though. At least something on his plate was warm. Jityria threw her a nasty glare as she leaned over to grab the warlord’s cup before filling it. Oops. She’d already missed her cue.
“So, do you make Marcy stand while she eats?”
The warlord didn’t say anything at first, just turned his head to stare at her with what she would have sworn was amusement shining in his eyes. “She may stand there if she wishes but it will be hard to reach the food from such a distance.”
The night before she’d been made to eat around the cooking pit as they cleaned up. Tonight she was going to be a guest at the table? Maybe that’s why Jityria had looked at her so hatefully.
Marcy looked around the table, searching for an empty seat. There wasn’t one, which meant, there was a catch. She was a servant after all, not a visiting dignitary. “Where would you like me to sit?”
He patted his leg. “You will sit here.”
She bit her tongue to keep from saying something she may regret, her stomach clenching when he held up a hand—the same hand he held up to her in the arena. She’d been scared enough to piss herself the first time she saw him and although she had a firm grip on her bladder now, a small amount of the fear still lingered. She wasn’t even sure why. So far he’d not hurt her, belittled her, or forced her to have sex with him but something kept her on edge. Maybe it was his size or the way he looked at her—like he was now, taking in the length of her from head to toe and back up again as if he was thinking of ways to fuck her into next week. The thought wasn’t completely unappealing, but monumentally stupid. He was one of the bad guys. She needed to remember that.
Marcy looked at his outstretched hand, her pulse racing as she reached for it. He locked eyes with her and pulled her to him, his legs spreading as she walked closer.
She stepped between his thighs and turned as he put her in his lap again, his left arm going around her waist. She tried her best not to look at Sara but she could see her out of the corner of her eye staring at her.
The aliens at the table acted nothing like they had the night before. They weren’t grabbing handfuls of food off the platters or yelling to be heard over the cacophony of everyone all talking at once. They were all sitting quietly, either looking at the food or at the warlord. Were they waiting for him to give them permission? And if so, why? They hadn’t last night.
She realized in the next instant why things were different today. They had guests in camp.
A glance down the table showed everyone turned toward the warlord. Long moments ticked by and he said nothing and never moved. Sara raised an eyebrow at her, a question of, “what now,” on her face.
Marcy glanced over her shoulder. The warlord was looking at her. She stared back, her pulse racing by the time he finally looked away and pulled his plate closer, picking up a piece of the steamingesuaproot and bringing it to her mouth. “Eat.”
She blinked. He was going to feed her—from his own hand?
She swallowed, staring at that piece of root and the fingers holding it. He brushed the bite of food against her lip. This was a trick. It had to be. She was going to lean down only to have him snatch it away as some form of a lesson to her, to show Sara and Toren her fate rested in his hands.
Her first instinct was to turn away, but she still didn't know what he intended to do with Sara and Toren. He'd not removed Toren's collar, much to Sara's disappointment, but they weren't dead. So what if he just wanted to humiliate her in front of them? She was his to do with as he pleased and if making her look like a fool was what he wanted to do, then he could.
She opened her mouth and leaned forward, waiting for him to snatch his hand away but much to her surprise, he did nothing but feed the tiny morsel to her.
His fingers brushed her lip as he let theesuapgo, his gaze intent as he watched her chew. There wasn’t a sound coming from anyone—the music—being played on the strange instrument she'd seen the alien named Vorta play even stopped, and she didn’t dare look up.
As she chewed and swallowed the bite, the silence was near deafening. The warlord shifted, his arm going around her waist, pulling her back against him, his chest to her back. He was too close now. She flicked a glance at Sara, her friend watching their exchange with a raised eyebrow.
Jorrick's breath tickled the skin under her ear, his beard brushing her bare shoulder and her pulse was leaping in anticipation of—something—by the time he whispered, “Feed me,” into her ear.
Heat filled her face at his words. They were spoken so softly she knew no one else had heard them but they rang inside her head as if he’d screamed them. She glanced at Sara again before looking down the length of the table. She seemed to be the center of attention as every single alien she looked at was staring back at her.
The warlords hand pressed into her stomach. Not hard, but enough to get her attention. “Do you wish them to wait all night?” His nose bumped her ear. “They will not eat tonight until I do.”
Of course they wouldn't.She was right, he was putting on a show for Sara and Toren's benefit, to prove to them that he was in total control and she'd do exactly what he said. And she would, too. If it meant Sara and Toren would be safe, then she'd hand feed Jorrick every morsel of food on the table.