Bargo beat a fist against his chest. “My club, my victory,” he claimed.
Vessa narrowed her eyes. “So it was you that hit me in the back of the head? Coward.”
The brute seemed unfazed by the accusation. Orcru had very little in the way of code to live by, especially the raiders. Honor and loyalty weren’t a part of their ideology. Only the war Orcru, the slightly more intelligent and battle hardened, might hold such values. For the others, as long as the ogg remained strong, they could function as a cohesive horde. Usually.
“You take when I finish,” Gor Lug offered.
Bargo snorted aggressively and stomped toward them. Two more Orcru slipped into the tent behind him—his guard dogs.
Her raze sword swung wildly from a makeshift sheath at Bargo’s side, catching her attention. “I get first!” he roared. He raised his club and brought it down across Gor Lug’s back before he could react to block it.
Gor Lug, still holding her lower half, was knocked sideways. She was only saved from being ripped in half by Bargo grabbing her and wrenching her toward him. But one of her legs was freed. She commanded it to move. To kick. Tofight. After the third attempt in which her numb leg only twitched, she managed enough willpower to kick Bargo in his face.
Which did nothing but piss him off. He roared, but Gor Lug grabbed her other leg before he could act on his anger. “My prize,” he growled.
“Release me and I’ll show you how much of a fucking prize I am,” Vessa hissed.
They jerked her back and forth like she was nothing but a doll. She was trying to simultaneously free herself from them andresist one of her legs being pulled too far in one direction when they both paused with cut-off snarls. The guards backed away from the entrance warily.
Vessa froze. What was it they heard?
Her heart pounded. A shift occurred like a forest falling silent.
Then something came barreling through the entrance. The gray-white form skidded across the floor. Vessa followed its path until the bleeding Orcru crashed into the first pole.
The flap opened. With lethal ease, someone else entered.
And they were holding her plasma dirk.
Chapter 4
Vessa
The mysterious newcomer was not an Orcru. Vessa couldn’t see his face beneath the dark hood he wore, but what she couldsee of his body was clearly designed for combat. He was taller than the Orcru with broad shoulders. Abdominals carved into blocks sat below a defined shelf of a chest. But her attention caught on his thick, muscled thighs flexing beneath the fight suit that fit him like a second skin.
Who was he?
Gor Lug and Bargo came out of their stupor just as the stranger crouched down. He slit the downed Orcru’s throat. Blood crackled against the plasma. When he stood, reaching his full intimidating height, he beckoned the four others forward with two fingers.
The idiots fighting over her dropped her at the same time in favor of their weapons. She slammed back against the pole so hard it knocked the air out of her.
For fuck’s sake, she was getting real tired of this shit.
Gor Lug let out a roar of a battle cry. Bargo motioned for the others to move forward with him, but one of them was knocked back immediately by a casual slice of the plasma dirk. The Orcru’s club swung wide as he tried to keep his balance. She knew what was going to happen before it did, as if given the gift of Sight.
Both Orcru and club careened toward one wall of the tent. The wall with the single helo-lamp swinging precariously from it. The light shattered into pieces.
Darkness descended. The emerald glow of her plasma dirk was the only light.
Chaos erupted around her.
She couldn’t see anything except shadows of shadows torn by the movement of the blade. But what she heard was the familiar and soothing sounds of bloodshed. More of the horde responded to Gor Lug’s call and flooded the tent. They had night vision, and all she had to go by was the burning path of the plasma dirk.
A flash of the warrior burying the searing edge into Bargo’s neck. A flash of an Orcru head flying. A flash as the stranger headbutted then stabbed an opponent.
And then Gor Lug—stalking towardher.
Shit. Calling on all her strength, she curled her legs up to protect her stomach. Her abs and hips protested the simple movement.
