Page 23 of Alien Orc Warlord's Captive Bride

"Don't think of him," rasps Ragnar. "Here, there is only us," he whispers in my ear, and my body curls into his. His chest is a fortress, arms like stone pillars, and his eyes glow green only for me. His cock is still half hard, huge and thick between his legs, and I wrap my fingers on it, liking the sensation of having that monster in my hands.

"Tell me to go to war. Tell me to make you my queen." His voice is tortured.

"I can't tell you that, Ragnar. Your tribe needs you," I say, and the tears drip down my cheeks, frozen by the wind, as he pulls me closer to him and wraps me up in his being and the furs that smell of him.

I don't want this moment to ever end. I can see it, so clearly. By his side in the great hall. The gardens of the Orc village growing, neatly arranged crops, rivers filled with nets, their storehouses full of fish and food, happy Orc children throwing snowballs at each other and building fortresses of ice. I rest my head against the warlord's steadily beating heart, and he runs his hands over my body so tenderly, bringing his index finger to my cheek and gently brushing the tears off before they can freeze.

The long, loud sound of a horn from far away destroys the dream. Ragnar is alert instantly. He listens intently. One long sound, then three short, then another long.

"The messenger has returned."

He waits, and the horn sounds an intricate tune. "And? What else?" I ask.

"They will make a deal with us."

"Is this our last day together?" I ask, and pull away from him, wrapping myself in furs as if it can be armor around my heart.

He doesn't answer, but his hot green eyes tell me everything I need to know.

14

RAGNAR

Isprinted back to the village. Aira wanted to run with me, but despite her stealth and quickness, her legs are simply too short. She did not protest as I put her on my shoulders, carrying her back to the village, but it drove me insane, her naked slit against the back of my head, filling my nostrils with the scent of the woman I ache to make my mate.

I set her down in front of the mountain pass at the entrance to my tribe's village, and we walk past the guards. In the middle of the town square, the messenger soldier is standing. Two Orcs guard him, one with the sack that covers his eyes so he could not betray our mountain village's position.

My eyes widen. Five huge oxen, grazing slowly on the rough grass that grows in patches in our stone valley.

Ulric waves to me, a grin on his face. "The messenger has returned! With five head of cattle, as a token gift of good faith!"

Even Gorak is nodding in approval. He stands next to one of the oxen, running his hand over its matted fur back. "I never thought we'd be herders or farmers, like the worms. But you did well, Ragnar," he says, as I approach.

The messenger is still terrified, glancing at the Orcs that surround them, his eyes on the weapons at their belts.

"Chieftain Ragnar," he says, as I approach, my woman at my side. "May I speak?"

"Speak."

"I told Lord Ashbourne everything. That you have rifles, that the traps we found were only the beginning. But that you are a fair man, a man willing to negotiate. I've brought five head of strong oxen as a token of good faith. The other fifteen are waiting. All healthy. No tricks."

"The oxen were laden with smoked fish and rations. I inspected them myself. Our stores are filling," says Gorak. The messenger hears the Orcish language, and his face goes white, because no matter what Gorak says, he always sounds angry. He's not sure if we're accepting the offer, or if we'll take the five head of oxen and his as well.

"Lord Ashbourne has shown he can make a deal. I will survey the lands, and if I see no hint of a trap, then we will finish this," I say, choosing my words carefully. Even dealing with a treacherous worm like Lord Ashbourne, I do want to promise anything I cannot.

"I am instructed to bring her back tonight. Your men guided me up the mountain, and they can guide me back. He's got twenty guards waiting at the bottom of the mountains. I told them not to come a foot into your territories...but he expects her back, soon."

"I must ensure this deal is not a ruse," I say, and the messenger licks his lips in worry. Aira looks up at me, but I cannot decipher her thoughts.

Gorak's eyes are a venomous green, his black brows furrowing as he watches me with open suspicion. His nostrils flare. He can smell my stink on her, the musk of my balls on her face, marking her as my property. "They've got those stalking birds, Ragnar. I'll follow you into war if that's what this is. But tell it to me plain."

"There will be no war. I will make certain this deal is no worm subterfuge, to let our guard down. Then she will be returned." The messenger looks from me to Gorak, hearing the tension, and he smooths his freshly washed tunic.

I stare down the messenger. "You will be brought back, unharmed, tonight."

"When...when can I say his bride will be returned?" His voice quakes, barely able to dare question an Orc warlord. His eyes dart to the hilt at my belt, and I know he’s remembering when I had that blade activated and at his throat.

"Wait at the mountain bottom. Ulric. Take two men and bring him down."

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