Page 26 of Warlord's Mate

He looked to the table. Had she fallen? As wobbly as she’d been when she left the clearing to sleep, it was possible.

He lifted her and put her on the bed, pushing her hair away from her face to look at the cut on her head. It wasn’t deep. He wet a small strip of cloth and dabbed at the wound, cleaning the blood away and sat for a long time staring at her. She’d want to leave with the dragon and his mate come morning. Would the dragon attack when he denied Mar-see the freedom to do so? He’d refused their request to remove his collar. Despite what he’d told Vikram, there was no guarantee that once he let the Draegon and his mate go, they wouldn’t come back. Once he gave them the key to that collar, there was nothing stopping Toren from shifting into his dragon form and destroying his entire camp and he’d not let that happen. He’d killed them both before they had a chance. He’d use his little red one as leverage if he had to.

He looked toward the doorway. Maybe he should just kill them now and be done with it. He could sleep peacefully with the knowledge his people would be safe and not have to worry about them again. But having a dragon who owed you a favor would go a long way in a place like this and letting them live was the only way to ensure that if he ever needed brute strength, he might get it.

The girl stirred. She’d not be happy if he killed her friends. Not that he cared, he reminded himself. Her feelings had little to do with his plans but she was already more bold than the other females. He imagined if she put her mind to it, she could cause more trouble than she was worth.

Rumors had filtered through the camps when she’d first been seen. Tales of her had been whispered from person to person, some claiming she looked like the magic mages fromAsherah.The color of her hair was a dead giveaway, some had said. The magic mages had hair of flame and were feared by all but this one—

Jorrick pushed a lock of her hair away from her face. If she were a magic mage, she was a piss-poor one. He couldn’t imagine one would allow themselves to be caught or remain caught if someone was luckily enough to do it. Did humans possess magic? If this one did, she wasn’t able to wield it. Her still being his captive was all the proof he needed.

She sighed and tucked a hand near her cheek. Those red curls on her head were a riot of wild strands and even though she was as pale as the moon flowers that grew around camp and as weak as a newbornthaper,he had a hard time looking away from her and he wasn’t sure why.

She was nothing like the females onTridian III. They had been fierce fighters, as deadly as, if not more than, the most seasoned warriors. There was nothing gentle about them. They were strong and fearless and were sought after for their cleverness alone.Tridianfemales were nothing like these soft humans were. Nothing at all. This one and her friend appeared weak and fragile. They knew not when to keep quiet and voiced their opinions when they weren’t asked for. They needed to be taught to obey and once he’d found Aris, he’d set about teaching this one to do just that.

Jorrick finished undressing and crawled under the furs, folding his arms underneath his head. The moment he settled, the girl rolled toward him, threw one leg over his hip, her arm draping over his stomach before she mumbled something against his chest.

Maybe putting her in the bed again wasn’t such a good idea. She may be weak and frail but she was still female and those red curls between her legs hid a treasure he had a hard time ignoring, especially now that they was pressed against his hip, the heat all he seemed to be able to focus on now that he thought about it.

He should take her. Stealing her away from Allok wasn’t enough, nor was the mark he’d put on her neck. The physical evidence of his claim was superficial … he needed to assert his claim in every way possible and taking her would be one sure way of doing that. Allok would do the same the moment he got her and knowing he’d not been the first to have her would anger him enough he may just get that war he’d been wanting.

Jorrick looked down at her. It would be easy tonight. She was so out of it she’d not even know but he’d never taken anyone by force and her being unaware would be much the same. No, when he took this one, she’d be full aware of it and enjoy every second of it … and he’d make sure Allok knew she had.

She wore his mark and very soon, she’d wear his scent.

Chapter Nine

Marcy woke alone in the warlord’s bed again, her head pounding so hard it felt as if someone had taken a ball bat to it.

She groaned and rolled over to her back, then winced. It took a few minutes for the room to stop spinning and the pain in her back to ease enough she was able to sit up. The room was empty, the warlord already gone.

Noise in camp told her there were others up and about. The commotion she heard was louder than it had been the day before so either she’d slept in really late or people were just being noisy today.

She stood and wobbled unsteadily before getting her balance. Her head pounded harder as she stood there.Why do I feel so bad?She raised a hand to her head, wincing when she touched her forehead. The skin above her eye was tender, more so closer to her hairline.

The night before came back in vague flashes. Snatches of conversations, laughter—sitting on the warlord’s lap while feeding him.

She dropped her hand. Had she really done that? She looked around the room but the answer wasn’t there. More flashes of memories came back and the moment she thought of Sara, she gasped and hurried across the room, pushing the leather flap over the doorway aside.

She squinted against the sun and peeked through her lashes. She’d definitely slept in. The whole camp was up and moving about. Marcy stepped out and headed toward the females hut. They were all gathered around the small stools they sat on and Tezhila was the first to see her, her eyes widening as she drew closer.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your face.” Tezhila’s cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “I only mean that you have a huge bruise.”

Marcy raised her hand to cup her sore head. “Yes, it’s pounding like a bitch too but I have no clue how I got it. Pretty much everything from last night is foggy.” She looked around camp, trying to spot Sara and hoped she hadn’t been made to leave yet. “Have any of you seen my friend Sara and her mate?”

Celestia nodded and pointed across camp to a hut set off by itself. “They are there.”

Marcy headed toward them, her steps slowing when she saw them sitting on the ground beside the hut. Sara had her head in Toren’s lap, her face sickly pale. She closed the distance between them and dropped to her knees. “What’s wrong?”

Sara gave her a weak smile and closed her eyes. “Too much alien juice, I think.”

“Alien juice?”

Sara made a “ummhumm” sound. “The stuff we were drinking last night. I don’t know what was in it but I’ve never felt so sick in all my life.”