Page 17 of Orc's Redemption

A Zmaj stands there.

Chains bite into his wrists, dark scales flecked with dirt and blood. His chest rises and falls with ragged breaths, but his eyes burn with stubborn resolve refusing to extinguish. They’re locked on something beyond my what I can see. Recognition flickers in my mind. I’ve seen him before. He’s one of ours. That’s the way we think of the surface Zmaj — the ones who saved humanity.

I don’t know him, but I have seen him often. Glimpses at gatherings or patrols. I don’t know his name even, but my heart soars seeing him. Then he looks over and his eyes lock onto mine and I feel something more than hope.

Something primal hums beneath my skin sending my pulse racing. The way he looks at me, the burning in his eyes, drives right into my unsatisfied pussy. The pulsing need and engorgement that was interrupted pulls on my attention.

I jump again, desperate to see him, grabbing onto the bars despite the protests of exhausted muscles.

He hisses, wings snapping open, his bound arms lifting as he looks down the hall. His tail rises between his wings and curls over his head. He roars as he rushes out of sight.

Grunts, groans, and battle cries echo from the stone walls. My heart gallops, lodged in my throat. A tremor races through my muscles as I strain to keep myself up where I can see.

A moment later he stumbles back into view. His head snaps back as a blur connects under his chin. Blood splatters, some of it landing on my fingers gripping the bars. It’s a cool spray, adding to the chill. I cry out, hurting with him.

A smile spreads over his face as he shakes his head, flinging more droplets. His eyes meet mine once more for the briefest of instances but on some level it feels like much longer. Two Urr’ki guards rush into view, one of them barreling right into the Zmaj. He slams his bound fists onto the Urr’ki’s back repeatedly with blows so hard they echo. They move out of my view and I can only guess at what the sounds mean.

Two more guards rush past my cell. Four. Four hulking Urr’ki against one Zmaj already bound. He can’t stand against them. No one could. The odds are impossible yet the fight continues.

I can’t keep myself up any longer. Dropping I press an ear to the door. Muscles trembling and my breath too. I whisper a prayer for him to be okay. For him to win. Somehow. Impossible though I know it is.

Why is he here? How?

It keeps going. I stand on my tiptoes and can just see out the opening. He stumbles back into view and the moment he does his head snaps to my cell. His gaze catches mine, and for a moment, the world narrows. There’s no cold cell. No guards. Just those eyes and the unspoken tether stretching taut between us.

His lips part, as if to speak, but then one of the guards shoves him hard into the far wall and the spell breaks.

“What is he doing here?” I whisper to myself, breath shallow.

Unless there was a full on attack there is no way a Zmaj should be able to breach the Urr’ki city and if there was… it obviously didn’t go well. The sounds of fighting echo off the stone walls.

The Zmaj stumbles back into view. Blood drips from his nose and mouth. I swallow hard, tears filling my eyes. The guards shout in their guttural tongue, debating what to do with him.

The warrior’s shoulders tense. His tail lashes once. Then, within a terrifying display of strength his muscles bunch and he rips the chains apart. The metal snaps like brittle twigs.

Chaos erupts.

He lunges at the nearest guard, claws raking across green flesh. Blood spatters the stone floor. A second guard charges, but the Zmaj pivots, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the wall. I press against the bars, adrenaline surging.

More guards shout, rushing to join the fray.

The warrior’s eyes flick back to me for a heartbeat, and I swear he softens, just slightly, before turning to face the incoming soldiers.

The fight is brutal.

His fists and claws are weapons, swift and precise, but the numbers work against him. For every Urr’ki he downs, two more replace them. Clubs slam against his body. The clatter of armored boots reverberates through the stone.

My stomach knots as I watch him fight like a cornered beast. Desperate. Furious. But even fury has limits.

A guard manages to flank him, slamming the hilt of a spear into the base of his skull. He staggers. Another tackles him from behind, chains looping around his throat. They wrestle him to the ground, claws scraping at stone as they force him down.

“No,” I murmur, fists clenched around the bars. “Get up.”

He tries.

Even chained and bloodied, he snarls and thrashes, but they overpower him. Heavy cuffs snap back around his wrists, pinning his arms behind him.

Panting, the guards drag him to the empty cell across from mine. The door groans as it shuts, locking him inside.

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