Page 11 of On a Barbarian World

It happened so fast, Kavon wasn’t exactly sure what she’d done. She grabbed Kian’s arm, dropped her weight, and yanked. The warrior stumbled, and then was falling. He tumbled into the dirt with a shocked shout.

The woman stepped back, still looking confused and dazed.

Enough. Kavon strode forward and scooped her up against his chest. She struggled against him, but he held her tight, trapping her arms to keep her from trying to escape again. He was impressed she’d bested them all, especially while she was hurt, but he didn’t want her to injure herself further.

“Enough, woman.”

She froze.

“You are injured. You need help. That is what I offer.”

She blinked, but he saw a haze of pain spreading over her face, and knew she was having trouble processing everything.

“Kavon, we have company incoming.”

Colm’s quiet words had Kavon turning his head. In the distance, he made out lights racing toward them…from Drog’s estate. Kavon’s nanami flared and his hearing increased. He heard the excited yips of hunting dogs. His mouth firmed. Drog bred vicious dogs and kept them on a hungry edge. They’d been known to tear people apart in a frenzy.

Just the thought of those animals getting close to this woman’s smooth skin hardened his resolve.

“Woman, I claim you.”

She frowned. “You speak English.”

Her voice was a smooth sound that reminded him of his favorite malt whiskey. “I speak Markarian, and I claim you.”

She shook her head. “You can’t claim me! I’m a person, not a thing.”

“You do not understand our customs.” He hitched her higher. “Everyone on Markaria is claimed or begs protection of a warlord.”

“Or what?”

“Or you fight to prove your strength.” He turned so she could see the approaching hunting party. “You will have to fight them or be claimed.”

Then a wild roar echoed around them.

Colm and Kian cursed, drawing their swords.

The woman’s eyes widened. “What was that?”

“One of the darken beasts. They call this area home. You do not want to run into one alone.”

Her gaze moved to study the thick darkness where the beast had called from, then flicked to Drog’s gang and back again. Her green gaze locked with Kavon’s. He could see she was hurt and still confused.

Her nose wrinkled but she nodded. “Fine. But this is a temporary thing, barbarian.”

She was his. With a deep sense of satisfaction riding him, he spun and strode to his hargon beast. He hitched her higher in his arms. For all her curves, she didn’t weigh much. “You are now Clan Mal Dor. You are mine.”

“You—” Her voice was just a husky whisper, then she lost consciousness again.

“Colm, Kian, grab what you can carry of the wreckage. Be quick. We want to be gone before Drog arrives. We’ll come again at first light to take anything else that remains.”

The warriors nodded, but their gazes were still on the bundle in Kavon’s arms.

“Get to it.” Kavon scanned the darkness around them. “Before an enterprising darken beast decides to attack.”

“She’s a skyflyer,” Colm said.

“And she’s the most…striking thing I’ve ever seen,” Kian added. “Look at the color of her hair.”