Page 24 of Alien Orc Warlord's Captive Bride

I do not show the worry that is gnawing at my being. I'm risking everything for another night with her, another day, but they are the most precious of my life.

“When it’s safe,” I answer the messenger obtusely, not knowing how I can let her go.

How long will Lord Ashbourne wait before he declares war?

A day? A week? How many precious moments can I dare enjoy with Aira, before my world turns grey, every moment dust?

15

AIRA

Ispent the night in his arms. I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to be awake for every moment, as we held each other, clinging on like we were holding onto a tree branch dangling over a raging river. From the distance, I could hear the dull clanging of metal on rock, rhythmic, and I focused on it and his heartbeat as sleep slowly took me, my eyes unable to stay open, heavily lidded. It was the dead of night, stars twinkling through the oval window when I finally fell into sleep, and I awoke with the dawn in his arms. He fed me a breakfast of smoked fish and berries, and I said nothing, because I knew that the only thing I could say was to ask him when I would be sent back to a new kind of captivity at the hands of Lord Ashbourne.

We went out in the morning, while Orcs watched us with too much interest, pretending not to look but glancing out the sides of their eyes as Ragnar took me out into the mountains again. This time, it's not for any game of stalking. We can't torture ourselves anymore. He took me out to help him find the rivers and streams that will be laden with fish to help him through the winters.

"There." He looks where I am pointing, to a long river that teems with the glistening greys of fish. "In the winter, they will be down in that lake. You can string up nets to get a huge bounty, and during the long cold months, you can use that sword of yours to cut holes in the ice and fish." My voice feels distant, like it's someone else speaking.

He follows my eyes, than leans down to kiss me, but I step back, putting my hand up. "Ragnar. Stop."

He shakes his head, his black mane swaying. "I told the messenger to delay, because I could not bear the idea that it was over."

"I know."

His eyes darken with desire. "Then let me..."

"No. Ragnar, no. I want you to. I want to be with you. But I can't...I can't bear to feel you, to know what I cannot have. We can't keep doing this. I'll be down there," I say, pointing down to the tall stone walls of Lord Ashbourne's castle. "And you'll be up here. And every day I'll be thinking of you. Wishing for you. It's going to drive me crazy, but I've got to accept it. Don't make this worse."

Ragnar's face softens. He reaches up, and I don't have the heart to stop him as he runs his calloused, warrior’s fingers over my cheek, staring at me with such intensity I know he is etching this moment in his mind. I look up at his stony, mountainous Orc face, and I focus on every detail, the hard line of his jaw, every tendril of black hair, the gleaming, vital aliveness of his eyes. He is carved out of jade, his eyes emeralds, burning with a fire of life that I crave and know will burn me up if I let him touch me much longer.

I step back, torn. "Ragnar. Please."

"Very well." He swallows hard, then looks out at the castle below. At the bottom of the mountain, there are tents and wagons set up. They look like toys from this height, the party of the messenger, waiting for me to be brought back to them.

"I can't let you go." His voice is deep and certain. My heart quickens.

"Ragnar, don't do this."

"You told Tusk the secret of rifling. He's produced three guns already, working through the night. He's going to teach others to make them. Whatever Lord Ashbourne sends, we can hold them off."

My heart quickens. "Don't fill me with false hope, Ragnar. I can't live with being the reason for a war." I think of the little Orc children running from the bush, giggling and shrieking in fear. Of Silga, humming happily as she paints.

"We have five head of oxen."

"They're all male."

"We can trade with a village."

"Any village that trades with you would be burnt to the ground by Lord Ashbourne's men."

"Then we'll capture some. I know. It's wrong, but it's necessary. And with your knowledge of fishing and farming, together, we can build an impregnable stronghold."

"Ragnar. You know Lord Ashbourne. He killed herds. He starved his own people to hurt you. If you do this...it's going to be a winter of bloodshed. People are going to die. Lots of people."

"If I let you go into that castle, there will a worse war. Every day, I will stand here, and I will look down, and I will know you are in the grasp of a man who does not deserve you." He snarls, his face painted with anger, his jaw clenched as his eyes burn furiously. "I'll take men down there, and I'll kill everyone who gets in my way."

"No you won't, Ragnar. That would be a suicide mission. And you care for your tribe. You wouldn't damn them to a death against those hard stone walls."

He deflates. The huge behemoth of a man's shoulders slump.

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