Page 7 of Alien Orc Warlord's Captive Bride

"You may."

"I...you said you weren't like Lord Ashbourne. But if you ransom me to him, that’s not true. I don't want to be his bride. Can you just...can you let me go?"

His green eyes flash and he grits his teeth in anger. "My tribe would starve. I will treat you as my honored guest while you are here. I can give you no more."

He's trying to protect his people, just as I wanted to protect my little brother.

I cross my arms in frustration. "What a way to treat an honored guest," I say, my tone acid as I remember his huge hand on my bottom.

Ragnar stands up from the fire and towers over me. His eyes bore into me with such intensity I feel like I'm drowning in their green pools.

"An honored guest does not try to escape and put my people at risk."

"You kidnapped me!"

"I took you from one captivity to another." He walks to a finely carved wooden set of drawers, and opens the bottom one, then comes back with a black ring.

It looks strange and alien, somehow unholy, glowing with the same blue-black energy of his weapon. That weapon somehow turns to nothing more than a hilt when it is in the belt of his loincloth.

"What is that?"

"It will let you understand my tongue. Will you put it on, or do I need to put it on for you?"

I grit my teeth and put it on my finger. It’s cool to the touch.

"How did you make this?"

"I did not. It is lost in time. We used to have so many things..."

I realize that he's speaking in the guttural tongue of the Orcs, and somehow I understand his words. He points to my finger where the ring sits like a bolt on my hand, tightening as if it has a mind of its own. "What the fuck!" I gasp and pull at it, but I can’t budge it.

"Twist it to the left," he says, and looks at me up and down, a strange melancholy in his pure green eyes. I twist it, and the ring unclasps from my finger. Now that I know the secret, I twist it back on. It will be useful for overhearing Orcs and for communicating easier with the Chieftain.

Strange, but it is a technology I doubt even the King himself has.

Ragnar picks up red hot stones from the base of the fire with a shovel and drops them under the bathtub. In time, steam rises from the water and I have to look away as he undresses. His thick cock, with bushy black hair above it, flops into view when he strips off his loincloth, and I find it impossible to avert my eyes.

He stands, completely unashamed in his nudity, a hulking beast of a man. This is the first time I really look at him, and my eyes trace every square inch. Over seven feet tall, and broad, with hard, rough skin over bulging muscles that ripple with even the smallest movement. Despite his bulk, he has hard ridges of abs and a V taper that leads down to his huge cock, this monstrous thing that hangs down between his legs. I can remember it throbbing under me as he disciplined me, and I know his deep, primal desires, the brutality of his species. On his chest, from his abs to near his heart, there is a long white scar. Something nearly split him in half. A wound that would have killed anyone lesser.

My cheeks flush red as he sees me watching him. "You are embarrassed to see me in my natural state, but you are the one who is nude," he says, pulling himself into the waters and sinking into them with a long sigh of luxury. I didn't expect to see the Orc Chieftain relaxing, but alone in his home, he puts his arms on the sides of the bathtub and leans back.

"What do you mean, I'm nude?" I say, frozen in place. I kept my cool hiding from patrols when I was poaching, not making a sound as Lord Ashbourne's men walked past my hiding spot, and it's crazy that seeing the huge Orc has my cheeks flushed and my mind racing.

"You have no paint. Come." The last word is an order that my body responds to before I can think, moving towards the Orc king as if he controls me. He has a voice suited for orders.

I stand next to him, in a wedding dress chosen by another man, furs wrapped around my body, trying my hardest not to look at his muscled brutality under the waters. I stare out through the oval window into the wilderness below, trying to lie to myself that I am looking at the hard tundra and wild forests while my peripheral vision is caught by his bulging muscles and powerful frame. He's got his eyes closed, so I steal a glance, down his body, then force my eyes up before they rest on that massive python between his legs. "How did you get the scar?"

His eyes flash open. "It matters not."

I swallow hard, my throat parched with a mixture of emotions I can't identify. I should hate this Chieftain. I should hate him for abducting me and stealing me away to be used as his pawn, just as I hate the Lord Ashbourne for coercing me into marriage, and yet...seeing the Chieftain taking a moment of rest, the weight of responsibility melting off him in the waters, I know he is only trying to save his tribe. His eyes follow me like a falcon tracking prey as I move in closer, my fingers brushing against the hard stone of the tub and curling around a bar of black soap.

I had been practicing in the carriage, my thoughts tormented, wondering how I could play the docile bride that Lord Ashbourne wanted. As much as I hate the Orc Chieftain, I lather my hands with the soap and massage his broad shoulders. Tingles flush through my body. He's tense, but under my fingers, his muscles slowly relax.

I'm filled with self-hatred, wanting to scream and curse at him, but I'm desperate for him to let his guard down further. I need him to think I am powerless and meek. He groans in satisfaction as I press my fingers into a knot in his shoulders, then the waters ripple as his huge cock thickens, slowly growing with each beat of his heart.

This time, I can't tear my eyes away.

His cock is thicker than my wrist, and even relaxed, his powerful frame radiates an aura of command that demands obedience. I know his brutal desires. My hands freeze as heat grows between my legs, this tingling need, shameful, hatred mixed with raw, primal lust for the brutal warlord who can command a tribe of Orc warriors. My hands tremble as every nerve in my body reacts to his hunger.

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