Page 54 of Warlord's Mate

"And I will have what is rightfully mine," she said. The corners of her mouth turned up slowly, the smile one of the cruelest she'd seen. "And I will have my revenge on you as well,sevit."

Jityria flung her away again and was walking back down the path before Marcy even hit the ground. She lay there stunned, the side of her head aching where Jityria had been yanking at her hair and she raised a hand to her head to make sure she hadn’t yanked her bald.

As fights went, that one was pretty pathetic, but she wasn't stupid. She wouldn't be able to best Jityria on a good day and there wasn't much use in trying to do more than deflect her blows. She was only human, after all.

She crawled to her feet and continued to the pond to wash, looking toward the waterfall cave when she reached it. She debated going inside to see if the warlord was there but decided against it. He was in a mood and she didn't know enough about him to know if he'd lash out at her and she wasn't going to find out. She'd had her ass kicked enough for one day.

Chapter Nineteen

Something was happening. People were in motion everywhere when she got back to camp. Marcy headed to the females hut to see what was going on and was met by Krista. “What's going on?”

"They're preparing a memorial of some kind for Aris."

Marcy nodded, then watched as a small pyre was erected. From what she'd heard, they hadn't found much of Aris. Part of a skull with hair attached, a few random limbs, and his hand. He had the same golden skin the warlord did, so they were of the same species but it was a number tattooed onto the side of the severed hand that let them know it was Aris. She'd seen a similar number tattooed on the warlord's hand as well.

The ceremony was solemn, as most funerals were, but once the remains had been burned, the aliens celebrated as if Aris was still with them. As funerals went, it was better than most she'd been to. At least no one was standing around weeping here.

It had taken a while to find the warlord in the crowd. He'd stood by his hut, alone. She'd debated going to him but didn't want to intrude. When he retreated and finally left the party and disappeared inside his hut, she looked toward the food trenchers. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him eat anything.

Taking one of the empty trenchers, she filled it and grabbed a jug of the intoxicating wine the aliens liked to drink, along with a cup and carried it to the hut, hoping he didn't scream at her for invading his space.

The leather flap was closed when she made it to the entrance. She looked at those around camp before quietly pushing it aside and stepping in.

It was dark but she could see him along the back wall looking at a flat disk of some kind. He turned his head to look at her when the leather flap fell closed behind her. For all his strength, the look in his eyes told her he was devastated.

She held up the trencher and cup. "I brought you something to eat."

He looked at her for a moment, then turned his head. "I'm not hungry."

"I'm sure you're not but you have to eat. We all do." She carried the trencher and cup to the table and set them down, hoping they didn't slide off. This table hadn't fared well in his wrath. The leg was nearly broken off, and it leaned heavily to one side now.

"He shouldn't have been here."

Marcy wasn't sure if he was talking to her or just stating a fact. He was still staring at whatever it was he held in his hand.

"He was too young. More child than man and now he's dead." He raised his hand and threw whatever it was he was holding so hard it stuck into the wall. He turned to the table beside him and braced his hands on top of it and lowered his head. "He never listened to me. He was insolent and had no regard to safety and would defy me for no other reason than he could.” His fist hit the tabletop hard enough she heard the wood crack. Then he hit it again. And again.

Marcy crossed the room, wrapped her arms around his waist, and hugged him to her. Plastered against his back, she could hear his heart pounding. His violent assault on the table stopped, and he just stood there panting for breath. She didn’t move until his breathing had returned to normal and lifted her head when he quietly said, “Aris was my brother.”

It felt as if she’d been slapped, the words were so shocking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No one knows.” He inhaled deeply. Exhaled. “Only you.”

The admission took her by surprise. She knew very little about the warlord, and he her, yet he trusted her with information no one else knew?

She stepped around him, pushing her way between him and the table. His eyes were glassy, as if filled with tears he refused to shed. She’d seen many expressions on his face but never this one. He looked so—profoundly sad, it made her heart hurt. “Tell me how to make this better, warlord.”

He sighed and pushed her hair from her face, his gaze touching every inch of it before saying, “My name is Jorrick.”

Her heart thumped against her ribcage—hard. “It’s nice to meet you, Jorrick.” She smiled and laid her palms against his chest. “I’m Marcy.” If asked later what made her raise up on her toes and kiss him, she wouldn’t have been able to say, but the moment their lips touched, he cupped both sides of her head in his hands and tilted it to one side and kissed her as if he’d been waiting his entire life to do it. His tongue slid against her own and she felt a small zap of heat travel the length of her body at the intimate touch.

Jorrick was a good kisser. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was here on this awful prison moon and being with a woman was so rare a thing it made him more enthusiastic or if he was just that damn good at it, but she was ready for a full-on girly swoon within seconds.

He wore a shirt today. It hung loose, the hem, for once, not tucked in so she took advantage of it and slid her hands underneath the material. His stomach muscles contracted at her touch, his fingers sliding deeper into her hair and the sweep of his tongue inside her mouth grew deeper.

The intensity of his kiss told her how much pain he was in, and if this was what it took to ease some of it, then so be it. Being with him wasn’t a hardship regardless of the motive behind it so she eased the shirt up, pushing the material to his chest until she finally broke the kiss and pulled it off.

Marcy unhooked the fastener on his pants and looked him in the eye as she parted the material and started sliding them down over his hips. She pushed them as far as she could reach, then bent her legs, falling to her knees in front of him, pulling the material to his ankles.