Page 20 of Alien Orc Warlord's Captive Bride

"What do you suggest?"

"I saw from your windows many streams and lakes. I saw some of your women fishing with nets. Could they make larger nets?"

Ragnar turns towards the stream, where the two women, painted in swirling purples and pinks, have paused in their fishing. They must have extremely keen hearing, because they nod. "We could. It would take us some weeks."

I look over at the Orcs gathered. It's a clean split. Half are looking at me with gratitude...

But the rest, mostly men, can't hide the hostility that makes their eyes gleam.

"You can use those, to increase your fishing production."

"We need meat. Red meat, not fish!" yells out an Orc with an axe at his belt.

"We need food, to survive." Ragnar’s voice has a warning in it, and the Orc who yelled looks down, but he regains his confidence.

"The lakes are covered in ice through the winter. You think she can magic up enough to last us?"

"Ice fishing. You can bore holes through the ice and fish them even in the winters," I say, quickly. "It's not easy. But it can be done."

The Orc with the axe licks his fangs. Then he nods. "My apologies. I spoke out of turn. Your kind has caused us such harm that..." He grunts, embarrassed.

It's hard, but I smile at him. "I was told stories about Orcs to scare me when I was a kid. That you take humans as slaves, bring back captives, kill for pleasure. I'm sure you've been told the same."

"The tribes to the north are like that," growls Ragnar.

"And the bastards in Lord Ashbourne's castle are worse. There's bad in any species."

"And good," says Ragnar. "Prepare the goat for tonight. We will return."

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To scout the rivers and lakes. I believe that you are the key to my tribe surviving, Aira."

12

RAGNAR

Just watching her walking is intoxicating. Clad in three layers of clothes, my warmest furs, her body shrouded, it does nothing to stop my imagination from running wild. I know her body nude and displayed, and as she walks, I can imagine the roll of her hips, the perfection of her ass. She looks back, her fur hood framing her golden hair and bright, gleaming blue eyes. "Can you keep up?" she teases.

I grin. It's strange having someone speak to me like this. No one disputed my rise to Chieftain after I nearly died for my tribe, but in the year that followed, two different men challenged me for primacy. Each time, I dispatched them, and the way people speak to me is with a fearful respect, knowing that I am the only one who can lead the tribe to survival, mixing brutality with cunning. But Aira... Aira has a lightness to her.

"My legs are twice as long as yours. It's not a fair fight."

Aira walks in front of me, her footsteps silent as she strides through the rugged trail with steps more certain than a mountain goat. Silga did well with her paints. She is lithe and intelligent.

We walk another ten minutes or so, me trudging through the snows, her somehow finding patches that support her weight, shifting slightly, her feet finding certain ground on rocks where even my keen eyes cannot see hard ground. The sky is clear, the sun warm in the last heat of autumn. There will be a final melt of snow that makes the stream that runs through my village swell, and then the lands will be shrouded in snow.

I brought her out here to learn her knowledge. To benefit from her sharp mind...but my cock is surging up between my legs, this primal ache for the one woman I cannot have. It tortures me. She stands on a boulder, looking out at the lands below, and I pull myself up on it, surveying my domain. All of this, I own, by the sword in my belt, by the endless fight for survival. I can see the trails through the mountain boulders, noting each place where there is a pitfall trap, a hidden Orc waiting with bow and arrow, some few with rifles to cut down patrols. There have been none since I sent the messenger.

A good sign—but one that is bittersweet. I almost wish they would bring us to war, so that I could have Aira as my queen.

She looks up at me, and I can smell her feminine scent. She is delicate yet powerful. I cannot have her. Not in the way I want. If I returned her without her innocence, I can only imagine what the Lord Ashbourne would do to her. He'd punish her, and there would be nothing I could do to stop it.

My heart quickens as I imagine taking her, right here and now, sealing our fates together forever. I suppress a growl, and step closer to her, reaching up to touch her cheek. She leans into my touch, hesitant and eager at the same time. I am standing on the rock slightly lower than her, so that we are at eye level, and I can see my brutality reflected in her eyes.

I press my lips against her. I can't stop myself. I need her, more than I need life itself. She responds with a hunger that matches my own, then pulls back.

"The day I took you. You begged me to let you free," I say. "What changed?"

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