Page 53 of Warlord's Mate
Jityria spotted her and headed her way. That same pissy look was on her face as she approached. “Why are you not at the cooking pits?”
“Because I just woke up.”
She sneered. “Your sleeping habits matter to no one.” Jityria grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the trees. “Go serve the others or I’ll have you thrown into the hole.”
The rest of the morning was spent filling cups and carrying trenchers of food to the tables, then cleaning it all up again. By the time she’d eaten and headed toward the females hut, her back felt as if it was breaking.
The sun was high in the sky when commotion in the trees caught everyone’s attention. Marcy watched the warlord stomp into the clearing, followed by a small group of scouts. No one looked happy. Some looked downright enraged.
They scattered inside the camp, their voices starting to fill the air in a constant barrage of angry chatter. The warlord headed straight for his hut. She debated going after him but thought better of it when he disappeared inside and bellowed so loud in that unusual growl she sometimes heard that the noise rang across camp and sent most everyone scurrying.
Something shattered a moment later and within minutes, the sound of things breaking filled the air. The walls of the hut shuddered as things continue to crash and get slammed into the ground and those loud growls caused everyone in camp to hunker down where they were and not move.
She’d seen the way the others looked at the warlord at times, as if they were thinking up ways to take everything he had but seeing them now, and listening to whatever was going on inside that hut, she knew why so few had ever tried. She’d romanticized the man who shared a bed with her but she knew very little about him. About what sort of person he was before he ended up here. From the sounds of it, one prone to fits of violence.
Celestia hurried across camp and sat on one of the low-lying stools. She jumped when something banged against the wall of the Jorrick’s hut hard enough it shuddered again.
Marcy winced and wondered if she’d find herself on the floor tonight. Or cramped into the small hut the other females had to share.
Tezhila was the first to speak, asking Celestia in a soft voice, “Do you know what has happened?”
The blue alien nodded. “They found Aris. He is dead.”
Marcy gasped with the others. Aris had been missing for weeks now. She looked toward the hut again when something else crashed into the wall. “I take it the warlord knew him well?”
Celestia nodded. “They arrived here together and had a close bond. Aris said things to the warlord others would have never dared to utter, but he didn’t fear him like most do. It may have been why they got along so well.”
Marcy stared at the hut and listened to the warlord rage over the loss of his friend. A part of her wanted to go and try to comfort him but she was familiar with that sort of grief and nothing she said would take away his pain.
She lost track of time sitting there but the warlord eventually calmed. The evening meal was prepared and eaten before she ventured to the hut. She peeked in and sucked in a breath. He’d destroyed nearly everything.
The light was dim but she could tell he wasn’t there. He must have slipped out unseen when she was serving the others.
Marcy pulled the leather door flap back and secured it to grab the last remaining light of the day and spent longer than it should have taken to find the brasier those odd glowing rocks sat in. She righted the tables and set the rocks back into the bowl and spent the rest of the evening straightening the hut. When it somewhat resembled what it had that morning, she looked at the bed. It was broken, the frame supporting the mattress shattered into several pieces.
It took several tugs to get the mattress moved to a clear spot on the floor. She dug all the furs out from under the broken bed frame and made the bed, then stripped out of her clothes and crawled into it exhausted. She stared at the door, willing the warlord to come back and as the noise in camp died, she wondered where he was. And who was comforting him.
Her body was tingling with the remnants of an erotic dream, heat along her back where the warlord lay pressed against her making her body thrum and Marcy blinked her eyes open only to realize it wasn't a dream. The warlord was indeed behind her. Fucking her.
She moaned when he dragged her leg up over his and pushed inside again, the thick length of him sliding in and out in a slow, leisurely pace. He held one of her breast in his hand, his thumb flicking her nipple while he breathed heavily into the crook of her neck. She moved her head to one side, his lips tickling a path to her ear and when he realized she was awake, his thrusts became harder, quicker.
The hand on her breast lowered, his fingers finding her clit, and it took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to make her come. She screamed into her hand as his cock slammed into her, his fingers working her clit until her limbs were shaking.
He came with a roar, his hold on her tightening to this side of painful. He didn't let go until their breathing had returned to normal, then he pulled away from her, stood, then dressed and left without a single word.
Marcy flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She didn't know when he'd come to bed but was glad he had. Of course it was disappointing he left again without saying anything to her.
She eventually crawled from bed and dressed then headed straight for the pond to wash. There was no denying that she and the warlord were intimate. Most even suspected it. Those who didn't could probably tell from nothing more than her walking past them. One of the things she'd learned since arriving on Prison Moon One is, these aliens have a very keen sense of smell. Jityria being one of them. She saw her on the trail halfway there and groaned. She was tired of the verbal sparring matches they had.
Jityria’s nose was almost nonexistent it was so flat but her nostrils flared the moment she stopped in front of her on the path. Her black eyes ran the length of her before coming back up and Marcy saw her nostrils flare again before she met her gaze.
She knew next to nothing about Jityria other than she hated the sight of her. She didn't even know what her species was called. She hadn't cared enough to ask but maybe she should have because Jityria came at her so quickly, she didn't even realize she'd moved until Jityria grabbed her by the hair and threw her across the path and into the surrounding trees. Marcy lay there stunned for long seconds, blinking into the swaying trees limbs until Jityria’s face came into view. She was grabbed, pulled from the ground and thrown again as if she weighed nothing. She rolled and managed to find her feet before she attacked again but Marcy knew her being quick on her feet meant very little.
"If you leave a mark on me, Jityria, the warlord will rip you apart."
The alien paused, her black gaze boring into her own for so long, Marcy knew Jityria was debating on whether it was worth it. She gave her a familiar sneer and closed the distance between them, reaching out and grabbing another handful of her hair. "I can smell him all over you, human."
I just bet you can.Marcy didn't reply, just stood there trying not to wince as Jityria pulled on her hair.