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  Prison Moon: Warlord’s Mate

  Lily Graison

  Prison Moon: Warlord’s Mate

  A Prison Moon Series Romance Novel

  Copyright © 2019 by Lily Graison

  All Rights Reserved

  ~ ~

  Cover design: Clarise Tan

  http://www.ctcovercreations.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  * * *

  All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Visit Lily’s website at lilygraison.com

  Contents

  The Prison Moon Series

  About Warlord’s Mate

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  A Note From Lily

  Want A Free Book?

  Want More?

  Reading List

  About the Author

  Ice Heart by Alexandra Marell

  Dragon Fire by Lily Graison

  Stone Dragon by Alexandra Marell

  Warlord’s Mate by Lily Graison

  About Warlord’s Mate

  Aliens are real.

  * * *

  So are Prison Planets. Marcy Duncan finds out the hard way when she’d abducted and dumped on one and told to run or die trying because the inhabitants of Prison Moon One only want one thing—and she’s her.

  * * *

  Captured and sent to the Arena, she soon becomes the property of a barbarian warlord everyone fears. He’s a golden-skinned devil wrapped in such a tempting package, her traitorous heart won’t look the other way, a move that might get her killed when she realizes she’s just a pawn in a game with no winners. A game where she’s the bait.

  Chapter One

  Her wrists were bleeding. Marcy braced her arms on her knees and let her hands dangle away from her body. Blood from the abrasions the metals cuffs made on her skin dripped onto the floor between her bare feet. She’d been wishing for days now that she’d bleed out. Prayed she'd go to sleep and not wake up again but every time she opened her eyes, she was still in the same six-by-six metal room with nothing but a bucket in the corner for her personal use.

  Noise outside drew her gaze to the small square cut into the door that the aliens used to feed her the bowls of slop they considered food. She’d lost track of the days and had no idea how long she’d been here, nor how long she’d been on that spaceship. She snorted a laugh. A spaceship. With all the screwed up bullshit in her life, she would end up abducted by aliens and dropped who knew where.

  Her brother had told her more than once that she’d end up being abducted leaving her dance studio so late at night. She’d taken self-defense classes just to be on the safe side but—who would have guessed it would be aliens that abducted her? She learned real quick that you can’t outrun an alien spaceship when a beam of light paralyzed her, freezing her limbs in place. She blacked out and woke in a cargo hold with twenty other women. Scared, hungry and unable to understand what the ugly fucks who’d taken her said didn’t help her anxiety any either. The day they knocked her unconscious and implanted a translator into her head had been the one highlight of the entire bizarre trip. It didn’t last long, though. Dropped onto a prison moon and told to run or die had brought on a whole new level of weird. More so when they caught her and dumped in here, waiting to be offered as a prize to the strongest alien willing to fight for her.

  Marcy pushed the metal cuffs back and rubbed her thumb over her bleeding wrists. It was so dark she couldn’t see how bad it looked. With her luck, it would end up infected.

  Something scurried in the corner and she pulled her knees in. She hadn’t been able to glimpse what ran along the walls but she’d take whatever this planet offered in the way of vermin if it meant she escaped the alternative—becoming the possession and sex slave to some random alien. She would happily live out the rest of her pathetic life right where she sat and not complain about a single second of it. But like it or not, they would come for her, and she knew this little reprieve would be short lived. They’d offer her as a prize and she’d end up the property of some ugly ass thing she could barely stand to look at and spend her life on her back, knees spread wide. Either that, or on her hands and knees, head down, ass in the air. Neither was anything to look forward to.

  Marcy leaned her head back against the cold metal wall and stared at the ceiling. Prison Moon One, the galaxy’s most popular penal colony—and the number one reality show in the universe, she’d been told,—had been nothing short of terrifying from the moment she’d been dropped here. Every person here was watched, everything they did broadcast to those who paid to see it. She’d been kidnapped and dropped here for entertainment. Meeting Sara and Emma on the ship had been the one small bright spot in the whole ordeal. Well, until they told them to run or die trying. Emma had refused to go with them, and Sara had run off the side of a cliff and was snatched from the air by a freaking dragon. She’d watched it fly away with her new friend until she could no longer see them. By the time she remembered aliens were chasing her, she’d been found—and brought here to the Arena.

  Movement outside her door brought her head up again. She’d already been fed so them coming back so soon couldn’t be good.

  The door opened and a guard stepped inside the room. The hired muscle that did all the dirty work for the aliens who ran this place appeared human, if you could overlook the patches of scales that dotted their flesh or their red eyes. They also shape-shifted into dragons but looked different from the one that snatched Sara from the sky. That one had four limbs and wings. These, their wings were attached to their arms. She’d heard someone say the guards were Wyvern. Apparently it was different from your standard dragon.

  The one that walked into her cell had a pissy attitude. Bald like the others, his scales ran down both sides of his face but his eyes were larger than most, the red seeming to shine even in the dim light and there wasn’t a thing nice about him.

  He turned those eerie eyes on her as he crossed the small space. “Get up.” He didn’t wait for her to do so, instead, grabbed her by the arm and jerked her off the floor.

  “Hey, easy asshole.”

  “Keep quiet!” He grabbed the chain attached to the metal cuffs around her wrists and dragged her out of the cell. Two other guards waited outside the door.

  “Where are we going?”

  He gave her chains another hard jerk, the metal once again cutting into her flesh. “I said be quiet. One more word from you and you’ll go out with more than your wrists bleeding.” He started down the hall, the other two guards falling into step behind them.

  Despite asking them where they were going, she already knew. She wasn’t stupid. They were taking her to the Arena. Playing dum
b was just a poor attempt to live in denial for a little while longer but today was the one she'd been dreading. Today was the day she became an alien’s play thing.

  When the double doors at the end of the hall opened, bright sunlight flooding inside, she staggered.

  Her time was up.

  Nothing had changed since the last time she’d been there. The main gates were open. One of the brutes was standing there with what appeared to be humans, one of which was naked. The female looked like Sara and her pulse leaped. Was it her? She yelled, “Sara!” just to see if she would look her way. When she did, Marcy’s heart started pounding. She struggled and screamed Sara’s name again, hope making her pulse leap when the girl’s head turned left, then right, as if looking for her. “Sara!” Maybe that dragon hadn’t eaten her after all.

  The guard holding her wrist cuffs gave them a yank. “You’re not to speak, human!” He dragged her to one of the cages they kept the other girls in and tossed her inside.

  When she turned to the main gates, they were closed. If that had in fact been Sara, she was now gone.

  She sighed and leaned back against the bars. Everyone in the cell was looking at her, with good reason. She’d been caged with a lot of these girls before they’d taken her into the private cell inside and judging the looks on many of their faces, they weren’t happy to see her. Of course, she’d done nothing since they brought her here but fight at every opportunity while the other humans sat along the back wall and cried and yet, she had never been picked. The guards had always snatched up one of those simpering girls cowering in the corner and acted as if she wasn’t even there. Playing the hard to get along with bitch had worked, even if it didn’t gain her any new friends.

  Marcy paced the cage through four fights with her heart in her throat knowing that before the sun went down, that would be her up there for those aliens to fight over. She’d never been made to watch before so, they planned on getting rid of her today, and by nightfall, she’d be the property of one of the aliens lining the make-shift bleachers around the perimeter of the ring.

  She looked over at them, wondering which of the ugly fuckers would be the less terrifying to belong to when the guards came for her.

  “Let’s go.”

  Marcy dug her heels into the dirt as they dragged her from the cage. The aliens along the walls went still, every creature there watching her and fear made her lose her mind. She didn’t cry like the others had. No, she kicked, scratched, and fought as if the devil himself had caught her as they pulled her toward the raised platform at the end of the arena and hoped the guards lost patience with her and killed her where she stood. That would be better than the alternative.

  She’d watched so many of these fights—knew how this one would play out—and she'd not stand up there like some simpering, screaming girl begging for help. She may be ready to piss herself, but she’d die before they knew it.

  Those aliens standing on the bleachers along the walls were all watching her now. Falling off the side of a cliff and being snatched from the air by the dragon that grabbed Sara wouldn’t have been her first choice, but as they pulled her across the hard, packed dirt inside the arena, she wished it would have been her.

  She locked her knees, her bare feet sliding across the ground as the guard pulled her to the platform. He yanked her up the steps and if he hadn’t been holding her clasped hands, she would have fallen on her face.

  The hateful guard she loathed so much pulled her to the center of the platform and told her to stay. She tried to jerk away from his grasp but did nothing but stumble.

  The girls in the cells had stopped whimpering, their attention on her. She’d stood in those same open cells day after day as girls were taken and put up here on display, while those creatures that lived here fought until death for the privilege to take them home. Those girls had screamed, cried, and begged and she'd not show the same weakness. If she looked like trouble, then maybe no one would want her.

  In all those previous battles, the aliens who fought for the others had laughed when they collected their screaming prize but they’d not take her so easy. They’d not take her without a fight. She’d rather they killed her to be honest and had tried her best to get the guards to do just that. Had caused enough problems to give them reason to, but all they'd done was haul her out of the cage and taken her underground, locking her in a cell all by herself, which had been fine by her. A private cell meant she didn't have to sleep crowded around a group of girls who stank worse than she did, or try to ignore the overflowing bucket of human waste in the corner.

  She’d gotten comfortable in the dank hole they’d kept her in and she’d been down there so long, she had thought they’d forgotten about her. Now, staring at the aliens watching her, she knew just how foolish she was. It didn’t mean she would go peacefully, though.

  Marcy tried to jerk away from the guard again. He snarled, his yellowed fangs showing as he snatched her back into place then cuffed her in the back of the head, ordering her to stay put.

  Like an idiot, she spit in his face.

  The laughs from the aliens along the low-lying planks they were standing on echoed inside the ring. The guard growled deep in his throat as he wiped away the spittle. When he brought his hand down, the back of it catching her across the side of her face, pain exploded inside her head as her knees went out from under her and she hit the floor. Jerked to her feet, the guard dragged her to the back of the platform and slammed her against the wall. He lifted her arms, the short chain that ran from each cuff on her wrist hooked on a sharp piece of metal sticking out from the wall and when the guard stepped back, the smile on his face looked feral.

  Arms cuffed and raised over her head, Marcy dangled, her toes barely touching the ground. The guard grabbed the front of her dress and jerked it so violently, her body flew forward, then swung back to hit the wall behind her when the material ripped, the dress coming away in his hands. Marcy gasped, and the noise died in an instant. She heard nothing but complete silence. It didn’t last long, though. As if the sight of her pale limbs and fire-crotch was enough to shake the world, the aliens started jumping off the planks and running into the ring.

  The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers as he informed them of the next prize up for grabs and mentioned her hair, which she supposed was a selling point. As long as she'd been here, she'd never seen another red-head. The guard grabbed a handful of her hair and gave her head a hard shake before letting go, her head smacking back against the wall.

  When the world stopped spinning, Marcy focused on the aliens who’d stepped into the ring. Over a dozen leered at her. As aliens went, most of these were on the grotesque side. Bulbous heads, extra appendages, and she hated to even think about what the penis of that flat-headed, gaped-mouthed thing looked like.

  The announcer asked for any others. Marcy scanned those still on the planks. More horrifying looking creatures stared back at her. Every size and shape imaginable and one huge—thing—that looked a lot like the beast in one of her favorite book series stared at her. She didn’t think that big ass thing would shape-shift and turn into Jericho Barrons, though. She’d volunteer to be his human plaything if he did.

  More than a few of them would have passed for human if it weren’t for their skin color or the mere size of them. A tall alien in the back kept drawing her attention. He stood a good head taller than all the rest and looked to be wearing a skull mask—at least she hoped it was a mask—with large white horns sticking up from the top of his head. Thick brown fur covered his body and even from this distance, she could see his eyes were an unusual, bright shade of amber.

  The aliens in the ring started shifting again. Half a dozen or more were facing the platform when she looked and an orange hulking—thing—stepped down to join the rest. His head was bald and bulky large muscles lay beneath his skin. His eyes were black, his mouth lipless. When he joined the others, three aliens that had been standing in the ring scurried back to rejoin the others on
the planks.

  The huge orange thing smiled. Or at least she thought he was. His mouth grew wider as he turned to the others standing there facing the platform before yelling, “Destroy all!” He lifted a beefy hand and pounded his chest caveman style. “Kr'Atek strongest!” He turned to her and growled, “Prize mine.”

  The remaining aliens in the ring looked at each other before two more headed back to the planks. The massive orange thing and three others remained. The orange alien faced them and bellowed, “Crush you! Female mine!”

  Bile churned in Marcy’s stomach at the prospect of being that creature’s plaything. It was four times her size and ugly as sin. The three other aliens were large as well but nowhere near as muscular as the orange thing. He looked as if he could crush her with nothing but one swing of his fist.

  Commotion amongst the aliens drew her eye and her heart gave one powerful thump in her chest when the tall alien with the skull mask stepped down into the ring. The brown fur she'd thought covered his body turned out to be a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He was bare-chested except for two criss-crossing leather straps with varying sizes of blades fitted into slots all along the leather. His skin had a gold tint to it and he was almost as muscled as the orange alien. His thighs were massive and as he crossed the ring, that eerie silence that had fallen over the arena when the guard had stripped her of her clothes fell again as he walked toward the platform.