Page 17 of Bonded By Savages

She was thin when we first saw her in our vision. Now she’s bones. It makes my rage burn me to the core and I slam my fist against the table. The soup bowls spill, and one of our servants, who was watching us from far away, takes her leave.

Those two women are good workers. Each of them tried to seduce us but stopped when they realized we had no lust for any but our promised mate. We were granted those servants when we got the first semi-circle of our brand filled in with agonizing ink, ink meant to let us experience a few hours of the pain Obsidian lives with.

I told them specifically what to put out for her, because I knew our Mate was weakened, but I didn’t think she’d have suffered such starvation. I thought she could handle a small bit of meat and bread, but now it’s as if I put them out to taunt her.

She is so weak, half-starved, and our brutal Matings would hurt her. She’s so fragile. She could break.

More than that, my lust is chilled by the fear in her being. It’s not the hate that worries me. I can taste her anger, but it’s the fear, the yellow, sickly smell, that curdles any lust.

“We saved her life. Why does she hate us?”Damian telepaths the words to me, so as not to let her hear. We both suspect she can understand Aurelian.

When we Bond her, she’ll be in our minds. Her being will be there, and we’ll be able to taste her essence, her emotions. We’ll be able to speak with her directly, without even needing words. I yearn for it, but it must wait—because if we take her now, even if we didn’t snap and hurt her, it would cement her hatred for us eternally. No amount of lust in her being can forgive us taking her when she does not wish it.

“You know why. You hated Fanatics with the same zest, long ago. She will learn.”

She looks at the spilled soup, licking her lips, and I cock my head. Damian sees the motion and fills another spoonful of soup, letting her drink. She swallows hard, frozen in fear.

“Please. The other women. The five servants. They aren’t your…Mate.”She spits out the word like a curse. “Let them go. Let them go somewhere safe.”

“They will be restored to health. Then we will decide what to do with them.” I state the words clearly, in Aurelian, and I see her blink with understanding.

So she does understand our tongue. Interesting.

“We can earn many talons by auctioning them to worthy men. Talons we can use to protect her.”

I transmit the message to Damian, feeling only a tinge of guilt. We saved their lives, and by the Old Ways, we own them—to do as we see fit. We have enough servants. Others have won talons in battles and could bid on them. It’s possible they are Mated to a triad on this very planet, and if not, they are well trained servants. Some were pretty enough to catch the fancy of an Aurelian.

I didn’t use to yearn for power. Now I need it. Without strength, we cannot deserve our Mate. Without power, she will never spread her legs and surrender fully, letting her bodydemandto be impregnated. Only with her yearning for a son can we make her belly swell, and have the purest joy of siring a biological heir.

Five women could be used to gain perhaps ten talons in an auction. Obsidian made it clear that no woman can be touched without consent, and though life will not be easy if they get a particularly fierce triad, it’s better than what it would have been serving a Toad.

Those ten talons could be used to buy a second Orb to power our shields.

“What are you going to do to them? To me?” She’s terrified. That thread of lust she had is gone, a wilted flower, and mine and my battle-brother’s disappears with it as the stink of sickly terror makes our stomachs roil.

We saved her life, but she’s still scared of us.

“We will decide,” says Damian. “You must rest now. When you wake and gain your strength, we will speak.” He stands, lifting her gently, and I hate how frail her body looks. She should have healthy curves to her body. He cradles her in his arms, and her eyes move to the bowl of soup. As scared as she is, she’s still starving. He lifts her out of the dining room and up the stairwell, to take her to the top floor where we have our main bedroom.

I take the bowl of soup, pour a third of it back in the cauldron, not wanting to upset her stomach if she eats too much, and follow them up.

The room looks too big for her. There is a long skylight, light streaming down into the room, and I look at her in the white sheets where Damian placed her. She pulls blankets over her body, hiding herself from us. Only the copper of her hair peeks out from the blankets.

I want to go in, but her fear has quelled, and I can’t be the reason her terror spikes again. I can’t. My Mate is so fragile, but her spirit is strong, under all the abuse. When the Bondthrummedand we felt our Mate, I felt her goodness rushing through me.

Even as we made our escape, she thought of the other servants. She’s good.

In this universe,goodgets you killed.

My cock surges as I imagine lying in bed with her, spooning her, my arms wrapped around her femininity, but I force the lust to ground. I will not claim her.

Not until she is begging for it…

And she will beg.

I place the bowl of soup down gently and close the door.

Damian steps away, and I follow him back to the stairs. We walk down, deep in thought. Both of our auras are stormy.

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