Page 29 of Warlord's Mate
“—There are fates far worse than death.”
She said nothing else, just gave him a nod, her head only moving a fraction as he still held her by the hair. He loosened his grip, searching her face for proof she indeed meant to stop sulking but didn’t find it. She licked her lips again, and he wondered if kissing her would get a reaction but doing so would only make him think about doing it a second time and he’d be worse off than he was now—wanting something he swore he’d never seek again and his judgment being clouded because of it. She wasn’t there for his pleasure and he needed to remember that but those lips … his gaze fell to them again, his body jolting when she licked them.
Was he going to kiss her?
Marcy held her breath as the warlord stared at her mouth. She licked her lips again out of pure nervousness and the hand he had in her hair tightened even further. “I wish to see that defiance in your eyes again,e’mahn neok. This behavior is—unacceptable.”
She still didn’t know whate’mahn neokmeant, not that it mattered, and she wasn’t about to ask him. Not now, at least.She was still too busy feeling sorry for herself and apparently it was pissing the warlord off, which suited her just fine. If she had to be miserable, he should be too.
His gaze met her own, the color of his eyes darkening as he stared at her before he darted one last glance to her mouth and let go of her, turned, and stalked across camp without another word.
What the hell had that been about?
Marcy watched him leave, his wide stride and the swing of his arms telling her he was mad. Well, he could just join the club, couldn’t he?
She scowled at his back and glanced at the others briefly before sitting down at another of the endless baskets of foraged roots from the forest. She’d done nothing since arriving but cook and serve and prepare hides and look for more food. Was this all life was here? If so, she was ready for it to be over.
It had taken days for the pain in her back and the bruise on her forehead to go away. She still couldn’t remember how she’d gotten them but every small twinge of pain was a constant reminder of Sara and her thoughts had been on nothing but her and her dragon since the day the warlord told them to leave. She’d wanted to go with them desperately but should have known better than to get her hopes up of it happening. She was a captive. She was never getting away from this camp and it was time for her to realize that.
She sighed and grabbed on of the roots in her basket, cutting it into pieces as she listened to the idle chatter of those in camp. Aris, the other golden skinned alien she’d talked to when she was sent to help Cayen feed the others was still missing and from what she’d heard, the hopes of finding him were slim. The name Allok seemed to be mentioned every time she heard Aris’s name pop up too and everyone seemed to think that if one of the other warlords had Aris, then he was probably dead, especially if any of them knew he was from this camp.
Jityria walked into her line of sight and Marcy rolled her eyes. She was headed their way, and she was sure, whatever it was that was wrong, it was her fault.
The alien in charge of the females in camp still hated her for some reason and nothing she did or said changed that, which is why Jityria showing up with fresh water for them was surprising. She actually smiled at them as she set the water bladder down, pouring water into one of the two cups in her hand and handing it to her before filling the other and holding it out to Celestia.
Marcy drank the entire cup full of water, then handed it back. When Jityria smiled at her again, Marcy stared at her, suspicion making her nervous. Something was up with her. Or maybe the warlord had finally given in and bent the hateful thing over the nearest rock he could find and gave her a good pounding.
She snorted a laugh at the thought. Surely the warlord wouldn’t be so desperate.
“What is so funny?”
Jityria was looking at her, a hint of humor in her eyes. Maybe the warlord had bent her over something. Her stomach clenched the moment she really thought about it, irritation gnawing at her a second later. Why she felt anything when thinking the two of them together was a better question.
Maybe it was because the heifer was so mean she didn’t deserve to get what she wanted. She sure as hell didn’t get whatshewanted, so why should anyone else, especially Jityria.
The others drank their fill of water and Jityria stood and gave her another of those creepy smiles before wandering off to do whatever it was she did all day. It sure as shit wasn’t help them. They barely saw her most days, not that she minded. The less time she had to deal with that one, the better off she was.
They went back to work and Marcy spent most of her time watching those around camp. They didn’t realize how predictable they were. She knew exactly which of them guarded which section of the camp, knew how long they were gone before switching out again and had seen more than one gap in their defenses. A person hellbent on escaping would be gathering food for their journey but she had no idea which way to go to find Sara if she did manage to slip out unnoticed.
A pain sharp enough to bend her double tore a gasp from her throat, her vision going dim as she grabbed her stomach.
“Are you all right?”
Marcy tried to say no but only managed a moan. The pain eased enough she was able to sit up and take a few deep breaths before it hit her again, this time more painful than the last. Her stomach rolled, nausea causing her mouth to start watering, her throat growing tight. She jumped to her feet, her stomach rebelling again, the horrid breakfast she’d eaten crawling its way back up as she ran for the bushes behind the females hut.
In all the time she’d been on Prison Moon One, she’d never been sick, not even when she was given food that was questionable. Marcy emptied her stomach, then dry heaved violently until every bone in her body ached, the pain in her stomach only growing. She didn’t realize the other females were with her until something cool was placed on her forehead and a cup was held out in front of her. She took it and rinsed her mouth, then moaned as the pain in her stomach hit again.
“Did you eat something that did not agree with you?”
Marcy shook her head no, then took a small sip of the water. “I’ve not eaten since this morning.” She’d eaten the same bowl of thick mush every day since she’d arrived there and it had never made her sick. Why today? And why so suddenly?
She rinsed her mouth again then drank more of the water before crawling to her feet with the help of Sebera. They guided her back to their little circle, easing her down onto one of the low-lying stools. Her stomach still ached, but the nausea had gone away. Not that it mattered, she had nothing else in her to get sick from.
Tezhila gave her another cup of water and she took a sip, then stared down at the cup. Had the water made her sick?
A look at the others gave her no sign that they were feeling ill so it couldn’t have been that. She took another deep breath, trying to clear the stink of puke from of her head. Jityria was across the camp, looking her way and again, that crazy smile was on her face. Her pulse leaped. Had she—
Marcy looked for the other cup but didn’t see it. She glanced back up at Jityria and the evil thing lifted her hand, shaking the extra cup in the air before throwing her head back and laughing.