Tamed: A Prison Planet Romance (The Condemned Series Book 4) Page 29

  She pushed herself up to get a better view of where she was.

  To her right were the pens crowded with the Other females. Twelve in all. The same number as when she’d brought them here. It drew a flare of relief. At least all were still alive, including Melody and Hope’s mother. She sent a prayer of thanks to the Ancients.

  They were draped in anazis like hers. Hidden, because Talg likely hated the sight of them. They’d pressed their covered faces to the bars as they sobbed and shrieked, their gazes locked on Cam lying still and silent in the dirt.

  The Other females’ behavior was in stark contrast to the quiet solemnity of the pack. Females and children had gathered in a semicircle on the border of the fire rocks, their worried faces digging just as big a pit in Nayla’s stomach as the Other females’ cries.

  Her pack looked hungrier than before, their faces gaunt. With her gone, there would have been no more food deliveries and Talg was so focused on his war and weapons, he was not taking the proper time to get the food they needed. Her people were even closer to starvation than before.

  War would only make things worse.

  “What is this?” The familiar pack voice stole her breath, her brain translating it easily to Grif’s New English and back to her own familiar language.

  Ramm. She was blocked by the legs of the guards, but she caught a glimpse of the hunter as he jogged forward to speak with the guards surrounding her.

  After so much time with the Others, it was strange to hear her native dialect spoken by so many as the guards explained their version of what had happened.

  It was even stranger to look at Ramm without the slits of her anazi to distort her vision.

  He was still a handsome pack male. His rectangular jaw, huge tusks, sharp upper fangs, and the abundant kill records carved into his flesh all testament to his worth as a good hunter. He’d be an excellent provider to any pack-mate. Except he struck her as not nearly ferocious enough now. And oddly hairless, without the dark intensity and beautiful green eyes of the male she now craved above all others.

  When she thought of what she had once sought so desperately, to be the mate of someone like Ramm and live her life in dutiful acceptance, grateful to just be on the margins, she wanted to be sick.

  To think she had almost never known what it was to be free. To recognize her worth. Most of all, to be loved fiercely and wildly and ruthlessly by someone as amazing as Grif.

  No matter what happened next, she would always have that.

  “Ramm!” She lifted her head, letting her tangle of hair fall away from her face.

  The hunter stumbled back, his golden eyes flaring bright. “G-Gazi?” Whispers spread through the pack like a wildfire. “We thought you were dead.” His skin flared red, the sign of strong emotion.

  “I am alive and well.” She took advantage of the guards’ surprise to push to her feet. “If you want to remain that way yourselves, the pack needs to let me and the Other females go.”

  More shocked whispers.

  Ramm’s gaze narrowed. “Watch yourself.” He had always been kinder to her than most, but he was still pack. Gazi did not speak unless spoken to. They never met pack gazes head-on. They also certainly never made demands.

  Except she was done playing by Talg’s rules.

  “Naja!” she snarled. It felt good. “You have killed an Other. There will be a cost. But you can still save yourselves if you let the females and me go now.”

  “They have done something to you.” Ramm’s gaze traveled Nayla’s body, a mix of displeasure, concern—and lust. How had she not noticed before? She had been so lost in her own sense of unworthiness, she’d failed to realize someone could feel something for her besides pity or contempt. Until Grif.

  “They have,” she agreed. “But it is not what you might expect. They have freed me.”

  Surprised murmurs. A few cries to the Ancients. The pack villagers crowded closer, drawn by curiosity and fear.

  “Y-you are not her.” Ramm’s gaze was dark with suspicion. “You are not Gazi. She does not behave in this way. You are something else.”

  “Also true.” She’d lived so long in their shadows, scavenging for approval, shelter, and food, soaking up whatever crumbs she could—but no longer. “I am something far different than I was when I was with you. I am stronger and unafraid. I am loved—and I am not cursed.”

  “Silence!” The objection was not from Ramm. The roar came from behind.

  She whirled.

  Talg stormed toward her, surrounded by four guards who looked small in comparison.

  Her confidence wavered.

  Though not nearly as tall as Grif, the male who had tormented her for so long was almost the same thickness as Sharluff and nearly as strong. Forty-two planetary rotations of struggle had honed his power and his cruelty. The tusks curling from his bottom lip were huge and thick and far bigger than any of the other males, including Ramm.

  Talg was a fearsome sight.

  But it was the look in his golden gaze—the pure animosity—that she remembered best of all.

  “Gazi do not speak.” He reached her, his expression thick with the smug certainty. “Gazi kneel. Gazi submit. Gazi suffer.”

  Her knees trembled. She had heard the same words her entire life. The instinct to drop and bow forward in supplication had been drilled into her since she was young.

  She fought the urge.

  Talg’s eyes narrowed. She caught the small flicker of surprise within. She knew why. She had never hesitated before, but he recovered fast.

  “Gazi who dare to appear without their anazi are punished. Gazi who disobey are punished. Gazi who speak when they should be silent are punished.” He spoke loudly so that all the pack could hear. “She will be disciplined and cleansed. Order once more restored. It is the Ancient way.” He turned toward the closest guard. “Take her to the cleansing bath.”

  “Do you dare allow them to touch me?” Rather than dodging the guard’s reach, she held her bare arms up and outward, making herself as large a target as possible.

  The guards who had started to obey Talg’s command hesitated, their confusion obvious, their fear of touching her bare skin even more so.

  She kept her gaze locked with Talg’s. “Rescind your order.” It was nice to be the one giving the commands. “Otherwise, they will have the proof that one of us lies—and we both know who that will be shown to be.”

  Talg’s fangs flashed, his rage so thick it battered at her flesh, a dark, vengeful energy that proved just how personal this was between them, his guise of leadership and Ancient rituals falling away as his real, twisted hate rushed to the fore.

  His lies had kept her ostracized and alone and under his control.

  Now they worked against him.

  “You will pay for this.” His skin flashed deep crimson.

  “Your lies cannot control me anymore.”

  One guard raised his spear.

  “Naja!” Talg’s roar cut him off. “She is not to be killed.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. No one spoke back to the pack leader without consequences, especially Gazi.

  The pack’s sense of order took a hit. A few exchanged glances.

  But Talg would not relinquish his control so easily.

  “The Ancients require her suffering be greater than a fast death.” He yanked at the covering draped across one shoulder. Pulling it free, he wrapped it around one fist. “I will deal with the abomination’s disobedience personally.”

  He addressed his followers, once more in control. “That she has returned to us now a traitor is a clear message from the Ancients.” He looked toward the pens imprisoning the Other females. “It is time to rid ourselves of the taint before it corrupts us altogether.”

  “No!”

  He ignored her protest. “The Gazi and her rebellion is proof of what will happen if we do not stop them now. Our bloodlines will be destroyed. Our powers weakened. We cannot allow more cursed spawn to weaken us. We m
ust destroy the Others.” His fangs flashed as he grinned. “Starting with them.”

  “Talg has told you so many lies!” she screamed. “Don’t let him destroy the pack.”

  “Go,” he roared. “Kill them now. I will deal with her.”

  All the guards except the four closest to him rushed toward the pen. Ramm hesitated, sorrow flashing in his stare before it hardened and he, too, hurried forward.

  “Did you think they would listen to you?” Talg’s voice was heavy with triumph. “You are nothing. Voiceless. Worthless.” He finished wrapping the covering around his knuckles, his hand clenched into a tight fist. “Whatever they did to you, I will undo. Soon you will lie at my feet, powerless as always—and you will suffer.”

  He advanced, raising his covered fist. “I will always control you.”

  “Harm a hair on her head and I will end you.” A new voice boomed over Talg’s.

  Grif!

  Her heart swelled as she smiled up at Talg. “Your power over me ended long ago.”

  47

  Relief and rage slammed through Grif as he caught sight of Nayla, and the squat, thick brute looming above her, fist raised.

  Talg. It had to be. Covered in brightly colored garments and chain after chain of bones, the leader’s status was obvious.

  Grif caught sight of Ramm as well, standing near the missing females’ pen, his giant incisors flashing bright white against the red, black, and gold of his flesh.

  It was also hard to miss Cam’s body lying a few paces behind where Nayla stood.

  Grif’s chest contracted. One more female he hadn’t been able to save. Even after what she’d done, he would have fought like hells to save her.

  There was nothing, though, that he could do for her now. He’d have to live with that. But he would. Because as he was learning from Nayla, he couldn’t fix everything.

  Only the thing that mattered most.

  “Dashe-ke, razi a miz fellya e fellyahs. ” I have come for my female, and the others, too.

  He watched Nayla’s eyes go wide. She’d been teaching him a pack word here and there, but she likely had not realized he’d absorbed so much.

  Talg didn’t respond, but Grif didn’t need him to. He was an expert at body language. The pack leader’s reaction was easy to read.

  The bastard had never expected to have his authority challenged, or the Others to appear in his territory before he was ready.

  Nor for someone to claim the female he’d always considered his private punching bag.

  Talg snarled, hissing something at his guards, but it was lost in the chatter of the pack as they, too, reacted to hearing an Other speak their language.

  Shock rippled through them as their mouths fell open. To understand a creature they considered a savage beast must be almost as alarming as if Sharluff had suddenly opened his beak and asked them how they were.

  Up close, it was even clearer what a blend Nayla was between her people and his. All the pack females he could see were nearly as hairless as the males, with only little brown tufts on the tops of their heads. All had ears far more pointed and angular, as well as thick dark stripes across the bridge of their noses. Their fangs were also a lot longer and sharper than Nayla’s. They did not have the tusks the males did, however. They were also not as big or thick as the hunters, but their flesh swirled with the same red, black, and gold patterns.

  The differences between them and Nayla reminded him all over again how strong she was to have survived what she had.

  Now it was his turn to be strong.

  “You believe we are savages.” He waited for Nayla to translate. “But that is not all we are.”

  Behind him, Bain, Zale, Quil, and Britta crowded closer. All four held glowing spears, thanks to the ghost. They hoped it would be enough to at least make the hunters think twice about attacking immediately.

  Meanwhile, Malin, Maddox, and Nash were circling around from the other side with spears of their own, ready and willing to provide backup.

  Because it wasn’t just he and Nayla that were a team, it was all of them. He’d forgotten for a while that he didn’t need to do it all on his own, but he was back on track now. Cam’s treachery and the reaction of his crew—their instant closing of ranks and determination to bring back their own—had reminded him all over again that they were a family. Despite their differences, despite their disagreements, they did have one another’s backs.

  He had every confidence they could get the job done if required: battle won, pack vanquished, missing females saved.

  But he’d promised Nayla he’d give her everything, and he intended to deliver.

  He unsheathed his favorite ax and…buried it deep on the ground.

  More murmurs spread through the pack.

  He had no idea what the equivalent of a white flag was to the pack, but he hoped they got the message.

  “You have been told we are controlled by violence and the will to destroy. Animals, with no other instincts than violence and destruction. I don’t blame you for believing it. You have seen the worst my kind has to offer. But we are not all like that.”

  He locked gazes with Nayla as she translated and he advanced, leaving his fellow teammates at the perimeter, as planned.

  At his first step, snarls and growls split the air, the hunters roused from their shock.

  Pack females grabbed their children, gripping them close.

  The four guards closest to Talg surrounded him.

  Which was perfect, since it put Nayla further out of the bastard’s reach.

  “It doesn’t have to be war between us.” He loosened a dagger from his harness and let it drop to the ground. Nayla’s lyrical voice drew him closer. The tie between them as strong as ever.

  He cast off one weapon after another, leaving a trail of discarded daggers and axes in his wake as he closed in on his goal. “Some Others desire peace. We have the ability to reason. Learn. Change. Cherish. Nayla has taught me that.”

  His female kept translating, a shy, shaky smile playing across her face at the mention of her own name.

  More whispers from the pack. He couldn’t tell if they were thoughtful murmurs or “go fuck yourself” murmurs. Whatever the case, he had their attention.

  “Rishe. Gazi. Lomesh.” Talg roused from his shock. The guttural words that poured from him full of hate, and directed at Nayla.

  Here was a true monster, not too dissimilar from the one Grif had put down in his youth.

  He couldn’t wait to do it again.

  Except he’d promised Nayla he’d avoid a full-scale war if he could, and he was determined to make her proud. Gutting the pack leader wouldn’t ease tensions.

  So, instead, he tossed another weapon into the dirt, making sure that the bastard’s attention returned to him. “Nayla has also taught me that your people do not need to be our enemy. We can find common ground.”

  Expression disbelieving, the leader let him come, as if he could not quite absorb what was happening. Or maybe he just wanted Grif close enough to tear his throat out.

  Either way, Grif kept coming.

  He advanced until his harness was empty, his chest bare, his sole item left the rope at his hip. “We come to you in peace. Inspired by love.”

  He swept his female into his arms and took his first real breath since he’d woken up and seen Malin staring back at him.

  Nayla leaned into Grif’s hold, absorbing his strength even as a collective gasp rose among the pack.

  She had never been prouder or more in awe of her male.

  She had always known he was fierce. She had seen his bravery and his power time and again.

  But to witness him wade into an enemy camp and cast off his weapons as he spoke of peace and love was the kind of courage that inspired legends.

  If any act was truly blessed by the Ancients, it was his.

  She knew that was why the hunters had let him advance.

  Honor, purity of heart, bravery. These were the qualities valued abov
e all else among pack. To see it displayed in an Other must be shaking them to the core, impacting them more than her words ever could.

  Then he’d done something even more astonishing by pack standards. He’d hauled her into his arms. He’d embraced her—a Gazi—without fear.

  The pack waited for his blood to boil. His bones to melt.

  They’d be waiting for a long time.

  A beast that could survive the touch of a Gazi without pain was beyond formidable.

  She suspected as the moments passed and Grif remained alive, more than one hunter was beginning to doubt Talg’s arrogant claims of an easy victory.

  Maybe a few were beginning to doubt the leader altogether.

  Grif’s plan was a clever one. But risky.

  Without his weapons, he was far too vulnerable.

  “You okay, wild thing?”

  “I’m okay, Grif.” She rubbed her cheek against his arm, grateful to the Ancients that she could. “I’m glad you’re here. I do not like, though, that you are in danger now, too.”

  “I’ll always go where you are. We’re a team.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “There is no female alive with more worth, courage, and kindness.”

  Another collective gasp from the pack.

  He shot her a wink.

  The pack might not understand his words, but his blatant act of affection and claiming needed no translation.

  Was it wrong that she relished every moment? That she loved Grif even more for knowing how satisfying this would be and giving her such a gift?

  She might not need to prove herself to pack anymore, but her scars were still fresh enough to enjoy that a warrior as brave, vicious, and formidable as her savage Other could care for her, choose her, in front of those who still considered her less than nothing.

  The pack looked to Talg to hear his explanation for what they were seeing.

  He opened his mouth. No sound came out. For so long, his rules and his lies had been obeyed without question.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Ramm, faster to recover, shoved forward, his words a near growl. “H-how does he touch you and live? What magic is this?”