Page 38 of Shackled to the Orc

“Your next fight is on the lord Lucian’s twentieth birthday. The greatest games Corwinhold has seen.” He taps his fingers against the wooden armrest of the chair. “Your opponent, Lorenzo Dusk, is Lucian’s favored champion.”

My eyes narrow.

“You are going to lose, Khan. You are going to put up a fight, and Lorenzo is going to get a lucky hit, and then another, and the great champion of the ring will meet his end.”

My heart thumps, hard, the pressure in my temples unbearable as the migraine shoots lightning pain through my skull. All I can focus on is Shug, hate filling my being.

“You failed your tribe, Khan. They died, and you lived. Don’t make the same mistake again. You care for this woman…Maya. Do as I say, and she will have a good life. Once she bears your child, she will be freed. But if you do not do as I say, you will never see her again. She will bear a child, and then she will be thrown to the wolves.”

The roar comes from deep in my soul, rage and pain screaming out of me. Spit flies, my fangs bared, and Shug jolts backwards, the chair flipping over as he falls, heavily. He dusts himself off, scowling, and pulls himself up, righting the chair. “I know what you planned, Khan. Some last-ditch escape attempt, some rebellion. But it won’t work. And when you fail, the rest of her life will be a nightmare. Don’t risk it. I’ve always been fair. You know I will honor this deal.”

He reaches into his cloak and pulls out a long glass tube. “You will be freed to her once you fill this. A token of my good faith to let you spend your last days with her–or you can rot here, in this cage, until it is time for you to die.” He rolls the tube on the floor, and it stops an inch in front of the bars. “Bang on the bars when you’re ready. My men will bring you to her.”

He gets up, watching me carefully, and leaves me alone in the room.

I grab the tube, wanting to grip it so tight it shatters, but if I don’t do as he says, the next step will be threatening her.

I have no choice.

23

MAYA

“Step back!” the guard barks, his voice echoing against the cold stone walls of the gladiator quarters as he opens the metal barred door. I retreat as Khan is brought in, and he steps back against the bars, letting the guard undo his shackles one by one.

He seems to have aged a decade in the hour he was away. His posture is slumped, weariness etched into every line of his face.

As the cuffs come off, I rush to him, concern clawing at my chest. "What happened out there, Khan?" I run my hand over his cheek, but it’s like he doesn’t feel my touch.

Wordlessly, he strides past me, a vacant look in his green eyes, and settles into his room, sitting down heavily on the bed instead of joining the other gladiators in their training. It’s his eyes that terrify me. They don’t have the fire they usually carry, and he stares straight forward at the wall as if I do not exist.

“What did he do to you?” I press, as gently as I can.

Khan shakes his head, weariness weighing down his voice. "Nothing."

“What did he want?”

Khan gaze flicks up to meet mine, his green eyes glazed. “He told me that he knows I plan a rebellion. He’s a step ahead of me, always.”

I sit next to him on the bed, gliding my fingers over his muscular arm as I search his face for answers. "Khan, we can adapt. We're in this together. Shug is selling his stable to Alf; we have time to plan. He’ll buy me as well. I have value as a doctor. Even if we can’t escape now, it doesn’t mean we’re trapped forever."

He slowly turns his gaze to me, his expression unreadable. “From everyone else, I don’t mind being called Khan. I told myself the person I was died when I couldn’t protect my tribe.” His voice is heavy with emotion.

His black brows furrow, and I stroke his arm, trying to reassure him. He is so tense it’s like his body is a frozen lake barely contained by a thousand tiny cracks. I keep silent, terrified to say the wrong word, terrified I’ll shatter him. “My given name is Montarok. I promised myself I would die without hearing that name again.”

“Montarok,” I say. “It suits you.”

A melancholic smile flickers on his lips. "Mountain of protection. That's what it means in our tongue."

“You’re my mountain.” I murmur, clutching his massive arm. He’s got muscles like boulders, this inhumanly powerful beast of a man.

“That, I can be. If I can be one thing with my life, it will be your shield.”

“Montarok,” I say, tasting the name. “Don’t talk like this. You’re more than just some shield. You’re my foundation. And I promise you, we will get out of this, together. That new pitmaster, Alf, he can put on a show, but he isn’t as cunning as Shug.”

“He turned us into a circus sideshow,” he snarls, his arms tensing up in rage.

I stand up in front of him. He’s near as tall as me even sitting, and I run my finger under his chin, pressing his gaze upwards, until his burning green eyes are staring into mine. “I’m glad for that. Because now I’ve got your son growing inside me. This isn’t the end. This is just the beginning.” I lean forward and kiss him on his brow. I run my hands over his neck, feeling his tension, and I work at the knots, knowing he must have an awful headache.

---