Read Online Vulcan's Woman by Jennifer LaRose - Free Book Online Page B

straps
were tied around the trunk from top to bottom. Piles of ashes lay around the
base in a bed of stones.
    Human ashes.
    “Pl-please, no,” Wisteria nearly cried, frantically wrapping
her arms around Tyran’s shoulders and neck and interlocking her hands. “The
chieftain said to hold me.”
    No one acknowledged her plea as she was carried to the tree
and set on her feet. Tyran gripped her wrist while he crouched and prepared a
lower strap, presumably for her ankles. And she swore the cinders were still
smoldering from the last person burned alive. Despite heat traveling through
her soles, her blood turned cold. If she didn’t flee now she may not get
another chance.
    Whenever Tyran released her wrist to bind her legs, she’d
run. The big Barbarian wasn’t present and with her life in danger she could
outrun the others. Or try to. What choice did she have?
    Beads of sweat pooled along her brows and she fisted her
hands. Her heartbeat accelerated while anticipating the moment Tyran would
loosen his grip, giving her a chance to break free. Just then the chieftain
stepped from his hut.
    “Tyran,” he shouted. “What are you doing?”
    Wisteria inwardly cringed at the roaring of his voice. Tyran
squeezed her wrist while slowly rising to his feet. He stepped behind her as if
using her as a shield as the chieftain approached, his stride long and
shoulders stiff. “Jade told me to tie her up, sir.”
    “You disobeyed me?” The chieftain halted and turned on the
woman. “Who gave you the authority to issue orders?”
    She cautiously set her weaving aside and stood, wringing her
hands. Her gaze lowered to the ground. “Tyran informed me she’d tried to
escape. I assumed she’d try again.”
    “When have we ever acted on assumptions?”
    “Never, sir.”
    His shoulders rose then slightly dropped. “Return to your
craft,” he said, lowering his voice, the edge almost nonexistent.
    Wisteria gulped as he approached. At her back, Tyran’s
breathing increased to an audible level. She couldn’t tell who was more
frightened, him or her.
    The Barbarian stopped directly in front of her body. Despite
him tilting her face upward by the chin, she couldn’t see his eyes inside the
headpiece.
    Suddenly he averted his attention over her head toward the
trees.
    “Chieftain,” someone shouted. “Look!”
    “I see it,” he responded, drawing a large blade from its
sheath at his side.
    Tyran’s grip tightened around Wisteria’s wrist as she
reluctantly turned and glanced over her shoulder. A man from the flesh-eating
tribe wearing a pelt with human teeth strung around his hair wandered into the
camp. His face was tilted toward the ground and he walked slowly, as if he’d
been poisoned or drugged and had fallen into a stupor.
    “Stay away from it,” the chieftain ordered. He cautiously
approached the Flesh Eater, stopping an arm’s reach away. It halted, its gaze
still lowered. The chieftain lifted its chin with the tip of his blade. “Who
sent you?” he asked.
    “Who sent you?” the man repeated.
    “His neck is covered in scales,” the chieftain shouted. “It’s
another mutant.”
    “His neck is covered in scales,” the man mocked. “It’s
another mutant.”
    A mutant? What’s a mutant?
    Wisteria gulped as the chieftain lifted the blade. With a
quick overhand plunge he stabbed it into the man’s heart then quickly yanked it
free from his chest. Green liquid spurted from the wound but the Flesh Eater
made not a sound as he fell backward to the ground.
    Green liquid? Had his blood been tainted by poison?
    Wisteria clamped her mouth shut to prevent screaming and
squeezed her eyes closed. Too soon she sensed the chieftain’s presence towering
nearby and she was overcome by acute shivers.
    “Tyran, take the woman to my hut.” The order was addressed
in a normal, authoritative tone. “Never mind. Dissect what you need from the
mutant for your analysis then bury the rest.”
    Wisteria’s eyes popped