Page 22 of The Orc's Rage

Cedar was left with no choice. Slowly, she withdrew the dagger and carefully held it by the blade as she extended it toward him. It was probably the first time she had seen Kargorr react to something with surprise—which gave way to anger. His breaths came fast and heavy as his glare darted to the dagger in her hand again.

He snatched it by the hilt and examined it slowly, still not speaking. Cedar retreated from him, her arms and legs ready to move should she need to. She wondered what sort of beating she would receive for this. He had promised her lashings for disobedience, and this was certainly a disobedience of the worst kind.

And then his anger faded, too, giving way to something else. Disappointment.

“I’m glad no one else is here,” Lord Kargorr said at last, raising those black eyes up to hers. “Or else I would have to have you whipped. In front of the entireparog.”

She clenched her shoulders tight to protect herself. She thought about running and wondered how far she could get. She had been hit before by many different people over the years, but never whipped.

“Tomorrow,” he said in a low voice, running his hands over the smooth hilt of the dagger, “we will pretend this never happened. Won’t we, little deer?”

Her eyes flew up to his. Was he going to let her get away with this? With plotting his death?

“Yes,” she said, without thinking. “Let’s forget it. Please.”

But Kargorr shook his head. “I won’t forget. I will never forget.” He held up the hilt of the dagger to his lips and licked it. “And I will make sure that you don’t, either.”

12

Kargorr

She had planned to stab him, perhaps in his sleep. Surely she hadn’t thought that would work.

He had fed her. He had cared for her pleasure. He had slept next to her and held her and started to become, much to his chagrin, linked with her. And now, she had betrayed him.

Perhaps this was all a mistake, taking the human as his own. It had been an impulsive decision, and he should have known better than to obey his baser nature when Cedar had first run from him. He should have snapped her neck alongside the old woman’s.

The idea made his skin itch like it was too tight.

Kargorr had been sorely mistaken in thinking he could tame her, that he could make her pliant and loyal. She was like a dog that had grown up feral.

Could the dog still learn manners? Could it ever be depended upon?

Her insubordination grated on the sturdy part of him that led aparog, that guided warriors into battle, that killed those who stood in his way. But another, murkier part of him admired it. She had played the supplicant and started to play it well, all while conspiring behind his back. She wasn’t a slight woman to be easily cowed.

In a way, she reminded him of himself and the sort of things he had been willing to do to win his ownparog.

Lord Kargorr was honest when he said he was glad she’d confessed in private. Now he didn’t have to punish her painfully and openly.

Not to say that he wouldn’t punish her. Now that he had decided not to whip her or cut her throat, and instead, keep her—he would have to be careful with his next move. It would determine how she saw him from then on, and whether she would hide secrets from him in the future. He could not have secrets between them, or it could mean far worse than this.

But she must still be taught a lesson, one that she wouldn’t forget easily.

Kargorr slid his fingers along the smooth hilt of the dagger, over the gentle bumps and swells where the carved silver led down the grip to the cross-guard. Cedar’s eyes were huge as she remained in a defensive position a good pace away from him on the bed. He needed to turn this around, to use it as an opportunity to invite her in closer rather than to push her away.

“Come here, little deer,” he commanded, and instinctively, she obeyed. At least her fear would make her deferential until he could earn her loyalty in other ways. As if summoned, his cock twitched against his thigh.

He knew he could make her sing, and that was a good place to start.

When Cedar was close enough, her shoulders still curled up tight around her neck, he ran his finger down the long blade. Her eyes followed as he stopped at the tip... where he carefully poked through his thick skin. It drew blood, and Cedar flinched.

“Sharp,” he said thoughtfully. “Lie down.”

Her chest was heaving as she lay back, trying her hardest to appear calm. Kargorr sat in a relaxed posture next to her, his grip returning to the hilt. He lowered the point to her chest, and her breaths came even faster, that red color blooming across her face. He sliced down, cutting through each of the strings holding her tunic together like they were butter. Cedar gasped as it slid away from her breasts, revealing them to him.

With great care, he drew the tip of the blade up her sternum, making sure to never cut her skin. The sharp, cold point brushed over the surface of her, and she shuddered under it. When it reached the hollow of her throat, Cedar swallowed hard, and her brown eyes sought out his. They were so bright and clear, white with irises the color of earth, and wide with her fear.

He kept the point of the dagger at her throat. “You will never hide something from me again,” he murmured to her. “Am I right?”

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