Page 39 of Shackled to the Orc

He stands, so suddenly I am almost bowled over, forcing me to step back. His fists are clenched, his muscles knotted and flexed. “There will be a day of bloodshed to mark the little lord’s birthday. I owe it to the men to make sure as many as possible survive,” he says, and barges out of the door, his knuckles white as if around his blade, as he stalks towards the training arenas, leaving me alone and confused.

I walk to the window, staring out through the bars, to the walls where the estate looms over. Shug. The puppetmaster, who has been playing us since we arrived here.

I need to think, and so I add a piece of wood to the embers of the fire, and put the kettle on, making the black tea that Khan–no, Montarok brought me. When I’ve got a cup, I sit back, swirling it, biting my lip. There’s something different about Montarok. Something deeper than just having Shug tell him he’s a step ahead. We knew with the extra guards that he was preparing for an escape attempt. There’s no new information, no reason that his shoulders would be slumped, this deep fatigue mixed with a strange surge of determination.

When I finish the cup, I pull myself up. Being idle is the worst thing I could do for myself right now, and there’s plenty of work to do. As much as I hate Shug, he gave me everything I need to set up my hospital. He might only care if the gladiators live or die because of how much money he makes off them, but he knows a good investment when he sees it. I’ve got herbs to grind, poultices to mix, and potions to brew.

I keep expecting Montarok to come see me at lunch. Instead, he walks out of the ring and must have gone straight to the mess hall to dine with the others, not even saying hi to me.

So he needs some time alone.

I wish he was here, to reassure me, but I’ll respect it as much as I can. When I’ve worked until the afternoon, two new stretchers cobbled together from blunted spears, medicines mixed, and my progress on the hospital enough to satisfy me, I grow weary and retire to our little room.

I brew myself another cup of tea, trying to work things out, wishing I could fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. I’m missing something–or the man I thought I could trust is holding it back.

As the sun is setting, he limps back to the bedroom. I’ve prepared him a brew to ease his wounds, and he downs it in a single gulp, then, without bathing, stumbles into bed.

“I would hold you,” he says, and I crawl into bed with him, letting him wrap me up in his huge arms, looking up at his stony, powerful features as he closes his eyes, deep in thought. He looks so strong, like nothing could ever hurt him, and yet I sense a deep wound in him.

I want to press him for details, probe him for what happened, but I can’t disturb the first time he has a semblance of peace, so I just run my hand against his huge chest, and he squeezes me tighter against him.

Montarok breathes in my scent as I cuddle against him, his nostrils flaring as his cock stirs against me. I turn, my hand on his huge thigh for support, and look up into his eyes. I’m met with a darkness I’ve never seen before, the flickering light of the lamp casting strange shadows on his hard, stony features. He looks like a stranger, and his body tenses as his lust grows. He leans in, his breath hot against my neck, and he kisses my tender skin, fangs grazing against my artery. His cock is pulsing and growing against his loincloth, and despite the anxiety that’s living in me, my body is helpless, responding in kind. I cannot stop the primal yearning I have for him, how deeply I crave the endless surrender to the alpha’s strength.

He pulls my clothes off furiously, needing our bodies to be naked together, and throws his loincloth aside, pulling me closer to him as he sits up, his chest a wall of hard green muscle as his cock rears up, throbbing hungrily. His alien pre-cum drips down the jade shaft, coating it in his pearly seed, slick and designed to let me take every inch of that too-huge thing inside of me, and as it throbs, my pussy tingles and clenches, and I feel so empty, so alone. I pull myself up and he cups his huge hands under my naked ass, positioning my slit on his throbbing, spurting cockhead as I wrap my legs around him. He slowly lowers me down onto his shaft, and I moan in pleasure and need as I am impaled, the huge head stretching me open as I sink into the oblivion of lust, knowing nothing but his body and mine, my tension erasing as he takes me.

We grind our bodies together in rhythm, our arms wrapped around each other, squeezing each other tight. He’s so deep inside me, this slow, gradual pleasure building in me like icemelt against a dam, building and building as I run my tongue over his sweaty chest, licking over his nipple, kissing his neck as he groans in pleasure. “Montarok,” I gasp, and he kisses me, his tongue swirling in mind as our bodies writh in unison, my orgasm welling over me, pleasure washing over my being as I shudder, my pussy clenching against his massive cock, until with a low, deep groan, he cums in me, each throb of his cock sending waves of his orcish seed deep inside me.

As my orgasm fades and the warm, golden afterglow fills me, there’s a thread of worry that grows anew, this horrible sensation that tonight could be one of the last nights we have together.

Without a word, he runs his hands through my hair, gently, tenderly, like he is scared he will break me, then shifts to his side, his softening cock still inside me as we lay in each other’s arms in bed. He is a titan, a god of war in the flesh, and yet as the flickering light washes over his features, his deep sorrow infects me.

He pulls my head to his chest, so that I am protected from the light, and I let my exhaustion take me until I am lost in a fitful sleep.

24

KHAN

Iget up before dawn. My leg is loose, the throbbing in my temples lessened from her ointments and brews, but I’d take the agony of the clubs slamming against my knee again over what I am feeling now.

As I pull myself gently from her arms, I look down at her. She’s breathing shallowly in her sleep, shifting like she can’t get comfortable. All I want to do is hold her tight and soothe her…

But soon, I will be gone, and I will never hold her again. Being in her presence is agony. There’s a dull thumping from the training grounds, and I pull myself away, gritting my teeth and leaving the room, closing the door behind me softly.

This is what I wanted.

To fight in the ring, until my life was taken from me, to die as I should have with my tribe. I no longer care what I deserve. I know what I want, what I need, and the only thing that makes me want to draw another breath is the thought of a future with her.

It hits me, all at once, and I understand the wrath of the Gods.

I did not deserve only to die. I deserved torment. They waited to let the adders bite when I had something to lose.

My fist clenches, tight. She is so powerful. So intelligent, with such an unflappable, deep strength to her. She would never have given up on life like I did, and she is the only woman in the world I could imagine as my mate, raising my son. She will have to raise him without me, but I know, deep down, that it will not be in captivity forever.

One day, she will find a way to break free of this place.

But gnawing guilt grips me as I remember filling the tube with my seed. There will be more life flowing from me, life born into captivity, life I have damned to live like mine, unless I can stop the forced impregnation of those three women before it’s too late.

I had no choice. Shug would have taken her hands off first, that I know.

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