Page 4 of Condemned

They slung her over a florse, cinched her to it. The leader mounted behind her and set off at a trot. The scent of him was overwhelming. Male mauleon stink. She turned her face to the front where the small dark wings fluttered. The heave of muscle under her belly and chest winded her whenever the florse jumped to clear small obstacles or jumped just because it was a florse. The creatures were flighty. It kept her breathless, made her gasp involuntarily now and then.

The mauleon leader laid a hand over her ass but said nothing.

Once, he lifted his big hand and brushed it through and over her spiked hair. He gripped her there and his claws unsheathed. The points dug into her scalp.

A novel and unwelcome heat simmered to a rise, stirring between her legs. It made her hate him all the more.

She grimaced then had to part her lips. A need sprang up to breathe harder, faster. She clamped down, denying her body that desire.

“You are a strange one. You set your hair into peaks? Why do this to yourself? It makes you look uncomely and this red...” His voice lowered. “It’s pretty.” He released her hair. Where her hands lay bound at her back, she felt him run his fingers over her, over those baby claws of hers. “You’re huleon?”

Huleon. Dirty mauleon bastard.Those words had haunted her childhood and brought only sad, detestable memories.

Wriggling, though she knew she could not get free, she cursed him again, running through a whole litany of swear words, making poetry out of it as only she could do.

Above her something rasped then a belt of leather was pulled between her teeth, wrapped around her head, and fastened firmly.

Panting, she attempted to chew the belt and wished it was Takk instead.

“You are lucky you are not mine, girl, or I would do worse to you than this. You have a dung-heap mouth on you.”

Her tears splashed the flank of the florse. Her anger fell to the ground they traveled over, as useless as her tears.