Page 9 of Sacrificed to the Orc

“Could you…the blood moon is four days away. I’d rather spend my last days here than as a captive in your tribe. Could we set up camp in the caves? Just for a few more days. Please.” I don’t know if it’s a strategy, to try to get more time with him without the influence of the shamans who poisoned his mind, or if it is just my terror of seeing a hundred barbarians who will stare at me like my death will give them salvation.

I can imagine a hundred set of hungry eyes, their chants growing as the blades rise, gleaming against the red moons.

He squeezes my hand, then releases it. “We are out of food. We must press onwards or we will starve.”

My mind races. “Wouldn’t that be a sign? That if I’m meant to be taken to your tribe, the mountain Gods would provide for you?”

The roaring bonfire is making me sweat, and I loosen the fur coat from around me, taking it off and putting it between us. “Use it as a cushion,” he says, and I pull it under myself, thick and warm between me and the cold rock.

“You are my greatest test, Hazel. Your scent…” He swallows. “I can hear the sounds of the children of my tribe crying out in pain, clutching their stomachs. They chew grass to stop the spasms of hunger. Every year, our territory dwindles. Every year, your species pushes us back. Lands we used to hunt, the game slaughtered by the King’s forces.”

“Do you really think killing me is going to change anything? What if it does? What if the herds come back? Your tribe will be pushed back, every year, farther into the mountains. What good are the herds if you cannot hunt them?”

“I don’t know. No one knows the future in its whole. But the darkness is coming for us. I know that, in my bones. My tribe trusted me. The blood moon comes but once a season. If I fail, then I am going to watch children starve to death, and I am going to know it was because of me. I can’t live with that.”

“And when you cut my throat and nothing changes? Can you live with that?”

He is a mountain, emotions hidden behind his stony face and icy glare, his jaw powerful and chiseled like a stone sculpture. He stares past the fire, down the mountain face, to the icy tundra we traversed. Through the thick snowfall, it’s hard to make out more than vague shapes.

“You said there is something in my scent. Have you smelled that before on any of the women of your tribe?”

“Never.”

“Doesn’t that mean something? Tell me what you smell.” I lean in closer to him.

He turns to face me and inhales deeply. His nostrils flare, and his mouth opens, his fangs gleaming against the firelight. His green eyes roll back until they are white, every muscle in his body tensing, his huge biceps flexing uncontrollably as he tries to restrain himself. My eyes snap down to his loincloth. The thick bulge of his cock is growing like it has a mind of its own, a beastly thing that craves ruining me. My pulse speeds up with the rush of fear and something else, this surge of anticipation and this aching need I cannot control, my body betraying me. No man has ever awoken this dark craving in me. I can smell his sweat, this deep, animalistic musk that makes me shift against the furs of his coat.

“Tell me, Askan. Tell me what you taste in me.”

His right hand forms a tight fist, his forearm flexing as he refocuses, staring straight through me. “It is not your purity. It is something else. You smell…right.” He snarls out the last word, filled with hatred, but it is not aimed at me.

He loathes himself for what he aches for.

“In your tribe, is that…is that union brought by the Gods?” I’m reaching. I don’t know enough about the orcish species, only rumors that when they find the woman they believe is their Mate, they go insane with the mating rage.

“It cannot be. It cannot. Half-breeds are twisted things, who live in the darkness.”

“Is that what you believe or what the shamans told you?” I let my words be soft, gentle, but there’s a heat in my voice as my skin tingles, a frisson rushing up and down my spine. His cock is pressing against the loincloth, hardening with every beat of his heart, and it slowly grows and snakes down his leg, this thick, green thing that would look as though it was made of jade if it wasn’t for the deep purple of the huge head, spitting pre-cum that drips down his thigh with each throb of need.

I imagine walking to him, running my hand over that perfect, massive cock, feeling the heat of his desire, kissing him, running my tongue over his body and letting the primal urges take control. I should hate him, be terrified by him, but I’ve never seen a man so huge, so powerful, so tortured inside, and I’m drawn to him in a way I don’t understand.

I stop myself. I don’t know if it would work. I don’t know if I could inflame the Mating Rage in him until he loses all honor of his tribe, but I can’t will myself to go to him, no matter how badly I crave him.

“You’re a good man, Askan. I can sense in it you. You don’t want to hurt me,” I say, my voice not much more than a whisper, my eyes wet with sorrow.

He reaches out his huge, callused hand, the hand of a warrior. I do not flinch as his huge digit traces down my cheek, running over my jaw, then slowly slides over my neck. He feels my pulse, and his gorgeous green eyes widen. It is where the blade will cut me open. He feels my life, so fragile, so real, and we both know it can be taken away in a moment.

Askan looms over me, the titan leaning in so that I can make out every inch of him, his proud, aquiline nose, his hard jawline like an anvil, his gleaming ivory fangs that could tear out my throat with a single bite. His neck is thicker than my leg, and he’s too big, overpowering me with his presence.

I’m terrified of him, and I want him closer to me. I lean forward, breathing in his deep, masculine musk, the mix of pheromones and sweat driving me wild, the touch of his fingers on my sensitive neck sending shivers of lust and fear through me. I’m so small compared to him, so helpless, and his huge cock is thickening, dripping seed like a faucet, so thick he would ruin me for any other man.

“I should hate you, Askan. But I don’t,” I whisper, and he kisses me, soft, hesitant at first, like he cannot believe what he is doing, his green eyes closing. His hand moves upwards, and he cradles my face as he slowly presses his lips firmer against mine, his huge, hot tongue tangling into my mouth, and I don’t know what I’m doing, if I’m trying to save my life or his, my mind filled with his strength, his presence overwhelming yet somehow bolstering me instead of terrifying me.

The thunderous boom makes us start, breaking off the kiss, the spell broken. We both look upwards at the same time, and he grabs me, his leather satchel, and the fur in a quick movement, dragging me to the side of the boulder.

Above us, shards of ice and rock careen down the mountain’s face, bouncing wildly in front of a vast expanse of snow and ice that descends in surreal slow motion, an unstoppable force of nature picking up speed as it slides down inexorably. A whirling chunk of ice flies towards us, and Askan grabs me, pulling me against his powerful chest and turning his back to it a second before it slams into us. The meaty thud hits my ears an instant before I feel the hit through him, and we’re knocked down onto the rocks, his huge weight pressing me against the cold rock.

His musky scent, tinged with his sweat, fills my nostrils, enveloping me like a protective cocoon as he puts his body between mine and the erratic fury of ice and rock. He twists, pulling himself heavily to his feet as snow cascades over the boulder, spraying in the air and dousing the fire with a sizzling hiss. He groans, a deep gash on his back from where he bore the brunt of the shard, but he grabs me by the wrist, half dragging me as he sprints out of the cover of the boulder towards the mountain face where the black, ominous holes of cave entrances beckon. Adrenaline surges, the lightning-sharp pain in my injured ankle nothing more than a distant echo, muted by panic.

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