Page 40 of Orc's Desire

Dilacs growls. His heavy-lidded eyes look sleepy, half-closed and disinterested, but I know that is a ruse. He stands straighter, squares his shoulders, and smiles.

“There is something you need to understand,” Dilacs says and as he speaks the door behind us bangs open causing me to jump. Though the guards flinch too, Dilacs doesn’t. It’s as if he knows before it happens that his brother is about to join him.

“What is that?” the leader asks.

Dilacs points at me. My heart speeds up as I look from him to the guard.

“She,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect then moving his finger to his own chest, “is mine.”

The way he growls the mine, so similar to what he did when he kissed me inside, makes me hot and wet. My body is an idiot but there is no controlling this absolutely visceral reaction I have to him or his claiming. Until I remember that Khiara is right behind him, listening to all of this.

Worry for Khiara and his feelings jerks my attention to him. Khiara looks at me with a deep, hurt frown, but he shakes his head. He steps up next to his brother, hands balling into fists. As he moves, he gives me a subtle nod and a shrug as if to say, it is what it is. My chest swells with a platonic love for him even as my heart breaks knowing he is hurt by this.

“You heard him,” Khiara says. “The female is my brother’s dragoste. No one, not even the Shaman, can interfere with that.”

No one including him. That’s what the glance he shoots at me says. I don’t know what that word means, but I do understand his message. His message of support. He is such a good man.

The guards behind the leader shift and two of them mutter something under their breath. A flicker of hope that we might somehow get out of this sparks, almost catching fire.

“The Shaman is our guide to the next world,” the leader says. “The old ways are what got us here, it is time to end it. Those things no longer matter.”

The leader makes a slashing gesture with one hand. Nothing happens for a heartbeat. Two. Three heartbeats. Then the guards surge forward, and my men go to work.

22

GWENETH

The fight is one sided. Though the boys are incredible, it doesn’t matter. As good as they are, eight against two is never going end in a win for the two.

Three guards pile on top of Khiara and take him to the ground. Four more are circling Dilacs. As they close in on him I’m struck and stumble away from them and into the wall. The leader doesn’t miss his chance. He dodges around the fighting and grabs me.

“Gwen!” Dilacs roars.

He bodily picks up one of the attackers and slams him into another one of them. As he throws the guard, though, another guards club cracks against the back of his head. He stumbles forward, grunting as his normally half-lidded eyes open wide.

I’m thrown into the air by the leader and drop painfully onto his shoulder. I try to scream but I’ve got no breath to do it with. The leader rushes around the conflict, leaning away from a thrown fist. He has his arm locked like a vice of iron over my midsection, crushing me against his armor.

“No,” Khiara roars.

Each of them are engaged with three hulking Urr’ki who are still standing. As I’m carried away Khiara is struck several blows. His head rocks side-to-side with so much force I cannot believe he isn’t on the ground unconscious.

“There, stop them,” the one carrying me barks, swinging me around so wildly I’m nauseous.

More guards rush past as we turn a corner. Then, coming down the street opposite the way we are going, comes an unarmored mob. A mob of what looks like an irregular militia. They’re carrying makeshift weapons, rods of steel, some have chairs, others have what looks like cooking utensils.

They are running to the fight and for a moment hope fills my head. But they aren’t coming for me, they the corner without a glance. I can only hope that they’re going to help Dilacs and Khiara. Please, if there is something to this whole Tajss provides, save my boys.

My head is banging against the back of my captor as he runs. Two guards appear and fall in on his flanks. I struggle, trying every way I can to break free but it’s of no use. Nothing I do phases him. I wiggle and slip, but before I can make it far enough to be free his other hand grabs my ankles and jerks me roughly back into place.

The clashing sounds of fighting echo loudly in my ears still even as I’m carried away to face who knows what horrible end. We run down a narrow street without incident. My hope dwindles with every step.

Then something strikes the head of my captor. He yells in pain and stumbles to one side. His grip loosens as he does and I buck my hips, sliding further down his back. He tries to grab on, but I kick my legs and then I’m free.

I hit the ground hard on my shoulder. It feels like I may have broken my wrist trying to break the fall but I’m not sure and there’s no time.

Stumbling to my feet I run without looking. More things rain down behind me. Crashes, bangs, and yells of pain fill the air, but I don’t pause to even look.

Run. Run you damnable fool.

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