“What you got there, girlie?” Two more faces appeared. “Don’t look like much.”
A muffled sound echoed behind her and she knew there were at least two creeping up on her flank, cutting off her escape route.
She swiveled, but it did no good. She was surrounded. Their hard, cruel faces peered down at her with ugly intent. The moons’ shadows only making them appear more terrifying. The biggest had a hoop through his nose. Another had fleshy ears hanging from a chain around his biceps. The shortest was missing an eye. Altogether, there were at least eight of them, all twice her size, all radiating cruelty.
Circling slowly, she tried to keep them at bay with the spear, jabbing in their direction.
“She looks strange.”
“She’s got all the working holes.”
Tuning them out, she considered her options. Besides the spear, she’d armed herself with a few sharp rocks, and an old pack surprise.
Still, her best chance was not having to use any of it at all.
Without warning, she darted through a small opening in the circle. Her size and speed might let her escape and—
A rough hand clamped around her forearm, yanking her back. “Oh, no you don’t.”
She slammed into a hard chest, a thick arm wrapping around her throat. The bitter stench of sweat and rot wafted across her cheek.
Someone wrenched the spear from her hold. It snapped easily. Unfortunate, but not a disaster. It was always meant to serve as a distraction from the real threat.
With a cry, she slammed her arm upward, the sharp edge of the rock in her hand slicing into the side of her attacker’s neck.
With a choked gasp, the male with the body parts dangling from a chain clutched his throat, stemming the blood.
Freed, she dropped to the ground.
The roar of outrage above her indicated she was far from safe.
“She killed Devers!”
Her first kill. There was no time to focus on that now.
“You’ll pay for that, bitch.”
She threw her rock at a male with a jagged scar through his lip. He ducked.
The giant with the hoop through his nose reached her first.
Rearing upward, she swung out with her right hand, embedding her smaller rock deep into his neck.
“You feral freak!” His backhand sent her sprawling. She hit the ground hard. “She cut me, too.”
Ignoring the ringing in her ears, she scrambled to her knees as the others closed in.
Heart beating fast, she waited.
They were almost on her when it happened. The male with the nose hoop wobbled, his eyelids drooping as the color leached from his face. He banged into the male at his side.
The rest paused.
She backed up, stumbling to her feet, and just avoided getting taken down as the listing male fell.
His body hit the ground hard.
“What the hells?” Fear and rage sharpened the voice of the one-eyed attacker.
“Stay back.” Every time she’d seen a dargulff plant hiding beneath the shadow of the boulders she’d picked its leaves. At night, she’d mixed it with the necessary elements and ground it into a solid paste. Even more potent than the mixture Grif had initially tried to drug her with, this concoction was powerful enough that when it hit the blood stream, the victim never woke up. “Touch me, I kill you, just like other two.”
Her attackers paused. Their narrowed gazes shifted between her and the two of their own unmoving on the ground.
“She talks strange.”
“Look at those ears.”
“The question is, is she telling the truth?”
The savages looked hesitant. For a heartbeat, she had hope—
“I don’t see any more of those rocks, do you?” The new leader’s words ended her gamble. “All I see are those tits and that shiny skin, We’ll fuck her, then skin her. A win-win. Plus, with the others gone, there’ll be less need to share her holes.”
They surged as one.
She kicked out.
They dodged her strike. The one-eyed male grabbed her arm. Another seized her injured ankle. She shrieked in agony.
“Got her.” A brutal vise closed around her throat from behind.
“Hold her tight.” The other men closed in. “She might be tiny, but she’s a wild one.”
The description made her heart sink. Her sudden longing for the male who’d first called her that so strong it pressed on her chest harder than any meaty forearm.
Her makeshift covering was ripped from her body. The skin at her waist stung.
“Grab her hands and ankles. Hold her down.”
Rough hands pinned her wrist to the dirt. Her legs were jerked apart and spread wide. Something tore in her already injured ankle.
She screamed.
“Shut up.” An attacker climbed on top of her, his weight stealing her breath. “Fuck, that’s nice. You just lay there and take it. Be a good slut and maybe you’ll live longer than planned.” His expression hardened. “Make more trouble and you’ll suffer worse than you could ever imagine.”
She’d heard Others tell the chained females in the camps the same thing. It wasn’t too far from what Talg had told her, either.
“Open that fucking mouth of hers,” barked one of the men to the other. “I’ll take that until I can get into her other hole.”
She had always feared death. She still did, but not as much as before. She would no longer be going to the Void untouched or unseen. Her captor had changed that.
He’d also taught her just how strong she was.
Rearing upward, she sank her teeth into the cheek of the Other fumbling to shove himself into her—and clamped on tight.
He howled, a high-pitched wail of terror and pain.
She might not have the same sharp fangs as most of the pack, but hers could still work just fine.
“She’s biting me,” he screamed.
Rough hands tangled in her hair, wrenching her backward.
Her hold broke, but not without a sharp tearing. Warm liquid burst in her mouth. She spat it out. She wanted no part of this disgusting Other inside her.
“You fucking bitch. You’ll pay for that.”
A fist rushed toward her face.
A snap of wind. A hiss of air.
A rope curled around the careening fist.
The man’s hand jerked to a halt midstrike. Then, he flew back.
The weight atop her disappeared.
26
Grif sank his ax into the back of the last of the scum, his rage so great everything was shrouded in crimson, the blood spurting from the wounds of those at his feet not nearly enough. He wanted to paint the whole planet red for what they’d done.
Only the soft whimper at his back penetrated the roar of fury.
Nayla.
He swiveled round, kicking a body out of his way as he stormed toward her. “Tell me you’re okay.”
Wide frightened eyes bored into him, the moons’ rays making them shimmer along with her gorgeous skin. She stumbled upright, swaying on her feet, her weight heavy on one foot while the other barely brushed the ground.
Relief slammed through him. She was alive. And well enough to stand on her own. Thank the fucking gods. But she was hurt. Bruised. And something was wrong with her left ankle. The rays from the moon hid as much as they revealed.
“It’s okay, Nayla.” He raised his hands, palms out in a placating gesture meant to make him appear more harmless, and noticed the bloody ax clenched tight in his fist. He buried the blade in the dirt. “I’m not going to hurt you.”