Page 7 of Warlord's Mate

“There’s no proof she’s anything other than she appears to be.” But now that they brought it up, he wasn’t taking any chances. Jorrick fought for very few females in the arena since gaining position here and of those he had, he’d never claimed one as he had the girl. He wasn’t even sure why he had this time. It may have been the way the men had stared at her when she walked into camp, their eyes roaming her body from head to toe. Some had wanted her instantly. He’d smelled their desire for her in the air and knew they’d tear her apart if he let them but she was his revenge. If he let his men break her, she’d be worthless to him so he’d afforded her the only protection he could think of. He’d marked her as his.

Aris braced his weight on one leg. “You could have just told them not to touch her. No one would have defied you.”

No, they wouldn’t have but—

“Allok will not like your claim on her.”

Jorrick looked at Vikram. “No, he won’t.” Maybe that’s why he’d done it—so when she did find herself in Allok’s hands, the warlord would not be able to look upon her and not see his mark. He’d know she’d belonged to him first and it would eat away at Allok’s pride more than anything. To know something he’d wanted was denied him. Something that would have been his had the one warlord he hated more than all the others had not stepped in at the last moment. And Allok would know he took her for no other reason than to keep him from getting her. That alone would rankle more than anything he’d done in the past.

The swell of pleasure at Allok’s rage gave him the first bit of happiness he’d had in more lunar cycles than he could count. Allok wouldn’t be adding the little red one to his harem of females, not if he could help it. He’d slit her throat before that happened—then he’d send him her rotting corpse and enjoy every second imagining Allok’s outrage.

“Come,” Jorrick said, putting the female out of his mind. “Show me Kr’Atek. I’m in need of a good fight. It’s been too long.”

Chapter Three

Marcy watched the warlord and two human-looking aliens almost as big as he was walk away, heading for the trees, the small orbs overhead following along with them. Apparently camp life wasn’t interesting enough for the viewers who paid to watch everything that happened here.

“That is Vikram, the warlord’s second in command and Aris. Treat them both with the same respect you show the warlord if you value your life.” Jityria gave her a slow look from head to toe. “And do not expect the warlord to afford you any special treatment. He shows none of the captives any sort of favor so don’t delude yourself into thinking you are special because he entered the arena for you.”

Marcy saw Jityria out of the corner of her eye. She was standing in the entrance of the warlords hut. She looked her way and didn’t miss the animosity on her face. “Are you usually this cranky or is it just me?”

Before Marcy could move, the woman raised her arm and slapped her face so hard, she stood there, stunned for a whole minute before turning her head back to look at her.

“You will speak when spoken to, do as you are told, and nothing more. The warlord may have fought for you, but do not mistake his motives.” She spread her arm in a wide arc from one end of the camp to the other. “You are no different from the rest of the females here. You are nothing but what the warlord says you are.”

The smug look on her green face rubbed Marcy in all the wrong places and that bad temper her daddy always accused her of having had her blood near boiling. “Okay. My mistake. I was under the impression this big ass bite mark on my neck said I was his.” She tilted her head left, then right. “I don’t see an alien hickey on you. What do you suppose that means?”

“That you are dead.” The smug look on Jityria’s face turned into pure glee as she smiled, showing a set of small pointed teeth set close together. “Once the others find out the warlord has taken a pet, you’ll be the most sought-after commodity on Prison Moon One. The other warlords will want you for no other reason than you belong to him.” She looked around the camp. “Once you have served your purpose, whatever that might be, the warlord will give you to his men as he has all the others.”

Marcy had only counted three other females besides herself and Jityria. Four women for all these men? No wonder they all looked so miserable. Well, Jityria didn’t. Maybe she was special to the warlord. It would explain her disdain.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

She wasn’t aware she was looking at her in any particular way and shrugged her shoulders. “Just trying to figure out where you fit in in all of this. Are you head slave around here and that’s why you’re so bitchy or do you just not like me?”

Jityria snatched a handful of her hair close to the roots before she had time to blink and started dragging her across the camp to where the other three females sat around large baskets. The hold Jityria had on her hair was hard enough to draw tears to Marcy’s eyes but crying was the last thing she’d ever do around any of these—aliens.

Snickers from the males they passed by brought the anger back and she reached up to grab Jityria’s arm when the woman suddenly stopped, jerking her head so violently she wondered if she was going to come away bald.

Jityria pushed her hard enough she stumbled, then fell, the impact with the ground jarring.

“Help fill these baskets and do not move from this spot.”

Jityria walked away without another word, her steps quick and hurried as she headed back to the warlord’s hut. When the leather flap fell back over the doorway, Marcy looked at the others. Only one of them was looking at her, a female with pale blue skin who, even sitting down, towered over her. She glanced in the direction Jityria had gone before whispering, “Do not purposely rile her. She has reason to hate you and will see you punished in ways that do not leave a mark.”

Her aching scalp was proof of that. Marcy sat up, lifting a hand to rub at the side of her head. “Well, she’s been hateful since the moment I set eyes on her. I don’t think that’s going to change whether I’m nice to her or not.”

The blue alien glanced at the others. “That is because the warlord has claimed you.” Her gaze darted to her neck where the warlord had bitten her.

“You mean this?” She touched the still sore bite wound.

The woman nodded. “The warlord has not done so with any of the rest of us. I imagine him claiming you in front of so many will burn in Jityria’s gut until she no longer draws breath.”

“Why? Is she the warlord’s wife?”

Her brows scrunched as if thinking. “Wife? I do not know this word.”

“Uh, spouse. Mate.”