Page 5 of Claimed By the Orc

“Stop fucking around,” the Fenx hissed at his companion, and I had to agree. Why rile up the monster? “Let’s get her in there and us out of here.”

Okay, that I didn’t agree with so much, but they wouldn’t listen to my comments. Brish waved his hand over the cage’s lock and the barred door swung open. Quick as a flash, Fenx shoved me inside and slammed the door behind me. The lock engaged with a forbiddingclunk, and there I was, trapped in a cage with the monster I’d been stupid enough to want to interview.

Well, fuck it. Nothing to lose trying to get it now.“Mr. Gragash?”

The answering growl sent a shiver through me, and I stepped back. Or tried to—the bars stopped me going even a step, the steel ice-cold through my clothes. Gragash shifted his weight again, looming in the darkness, and I tried to pull myself back into the light.

My captors laughed behind me, but I heard the edge of fear in their voices. Swallowing, I wondered what they expected to happen, what made those hardened criminals afraid.

“Get. Out.” Gragash’s voice was deep, impossibly deep, and laced with deep-set rage. Nothing human could make that sound. It vibrated through me, hitting me hard and taking my breath away.

Scary? Yes, absolutely, of course. Also hot enough to melt through steel. I bit my lip, squirming back against the bars. Beyond them, the gangsters fled the room. I barely noticed them go, but I did notice the hatch grinding shut again, leaving me in a stateroom-cage lit only by starlight.

Without the outside lighting, my cybernetic eyes adjusted faster than normal human eyes do. The shadowy figure lurking in the dark took on depth and form, and I swallowed nervously as Gragash took a step forward. He loomed over me like a mountain of green muscle, burning eyes glaring deep into my soul. I’d seen him fight from a distance, but nothing had prepared me for just how big he was up close. Tall, and broad-shouldered even for his height, with muscles that would have been grotesque on anyone smaller. On his frame, though, they looked perfect.

Tusks protruded from his strong-jawed face, his lips curling into a hungry smile as he looked at me. Eyes raked up and down me, pausing at my breasts, my hips. My skin warmed wherever he looked, and I felt a flush creep across my cheeks.

Unbidden, my gaze wandered down his body. His bare chest, rising and falling as he breathed deep. The perfect six-pack of his abs. Thank god, he wore a kilt of dark leather, but the size of the bulge under it me shudder. If that muscle was as big as the rest of them…

“I…” Swallowing, I tried again. “I’m Abigail Harkness, and I’m here to?—”

He cut me off, voice hard and harsh. “Here to play games. I am Gragash, and I do notplay.”

5

GRAGASH

The human flinched at my hard tone, but didn’t react as the females usually did. The urd’ash who kept me as their slave had brought females, and a few males, to see me. Rich tourists, blood hot from watching me fight, who wanted to bed the victor and go home with a scandalous tale to tell.

I had no interest in being the brute that they giggled about with their friends. Their oh-so-daring escapade, the crazy adventure of their youth.

All of them either fled, too frightened to go through with it in person, or flung themselves at me. I preferred the former response; it saved me having to pick them up and throw them out of my cage. They were not for me.

This was different. The human wasn’t here for some cheap thrill, and she hadn’t paid to be in my presence. She was here against her will, and the urd’ash were aware of how much I hated the journalists who followed me. They’d sent her here to die, and she knew it.

Her scent filled the air—fear and excitement, sweat and smoke, a dizzying treat for an Orc. I drew a deep breath, tasting her arousal on the air, and saw her shiver. Despite herdesire, she wasn’t here to use me as a plaything. She feared me, but not with the mindless terror that drove others to flee my presence. The human was something altogether different from my previous ‘guests.’

I stepped closer, looming over her, and her breath caught. I hadn’t seen many humans close up, but I could see at a glance that this one was special. Intense eyes looked back at me, green with golden flecks, framed by dark lashes. Freckles dusted her strange, pale skin, and red hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of fire. The curves of her body called out to be touched, explored, devoured, and the coverings she wore only made me want to rip them off her to see the skin beneath. A black t-shirt with a logo I didn’t recognize, strategically ripped black pants made of some tough fabric, and heavy boots. They looked good on her. They’d look betteroffher.

“What are you, human?” I asked, snarling my question in her face. “Why are you in my cage?”

She stammered something in a language I didn’t know, then switched to galtrade. “Hi, I’m Abigail Harkness, and I’m here to interview you? I’m a freelance journalist.”

Something about the way she said it made me laugh, a bark of amusement that made the human flinch back against the bars of my cage. The earnest confidence of her words was at odds with her fear, but not dishonest. I’d learned the taste of lies, and this was not one.

Was it aspirational? Not trueyet,but she hoped it would be? If so, I both envied her belief in a better future, and pitied her for it. Hope was a sweet poison, one that I had long ago purged from my system.

“You are here as a reward for me,” I said, correcting her. “A toy. So the urd’ash told me.”

A delightful blush spread across her pale cheeks and she glanced back over her shoulder before answering. “Okay, yes,that’s what Vaher said. But it’s not why I came aboard, and I’ve got no intention of beinganyone’stoy. So, how about an interview?”

“You are in no position to decide that, human. Slavers caught you. You are theirs. It is pointless to argue.”

Her eyes narrowed, her blush brightened, and she bared her teeth. “I’m not arguing. I don’t need to. They don’t get to say what I am unless I let them. They don’t get to decide what you are, either. Fuck that.”

Her earnest expression, her passion, her resilience, all reminded me too much of the orc I’d once been. So certain I could fight my way out of any trap, only to be caught in the web of deceit Captain Vaher wove around me. I’d lost that certainty along the way, long years of hopeless captivity dimming its flame, but Abigail’s was still strong, and bright enough to revive some of my own.

Fuck Vaher, and fuck them all. I am still Gragash, and my foes will not define me.

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