Page 11 of Orc Chained
Rath lowers his head and inhales; a long, slow, deliberate breath. “Lie. I smell your hunger. You tremble to keep from throwing yourself into my arms to ease your heat.”
I hiss, not quite embarrassed, but aggravated my body betrays me. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
He makes a thoughtful noise. “Should I throw you on the ground, strip you down and plunge my fingers into your dripping pussy andtaste how much it doesn’t mean?”
“Fuck you, Rathhur!”
He’s rigid, his breath coming too fast. The fist tightens, tightens, then he releases me.
“I don’t think so. Not tonight. I’m going to let you run. I have enough control for that. You’ll have a day’s head start because I am so angry that if I fuck you now I’m afraid I’ll tear you apart. I wouldfeaston your insides. But that’s what you want and you deserve to suffer a little.”
“More.”
“What?”
“A little more. I’ve already suffered, Rath.”
His mouth takes mine in a kiss so swift, so savage, that I don’t have time to freeze or fight before it’s over and he steps back.
“Run, Ky’a. If you can escape me, I’ll let you go. But if you don’t. . .”
I’m shaking, with fear, with anger, with unwilling desire. All it took was one kiss. “If I don’t escape?”
“You’ll be chained to my bed until you birth our first young.” His voice is gentle. “I know you won’t leave me then.”
I don’t need to see his eyes.
FOUR
We travelhard and on arrival at the Sorting push through the crowd, urgency battling exhaustion.
Battered tents and ramshackle stalls are pitched outside the crumbling stadium. There’s the usual mix of Fae, Orcs, Icarians and Humans and all the mixtures in between. Immortals can’t stop copulating with everything in their quest to repopulate their species’, then taking the DNA and altering it more.
We process through line, awed by the remnants of Dreadnaught technology that only come out at the Sorting. Our blood is taken, our value classified.
“Mixed species female,” the Icarian orderly mutters as thetabletflashes. “Of breeding age, expected lifespan barring gross stupidity, approximately seven hundred twenty years. Minimal magical potential.”
That shocks me; I’d always assumed I’d inherit my Human mother’s lifespan since I grew so quickly. It’s how the boys, Iloni, and I all startedprimary lessons together though I was only fifteen and they thirty-five, Iloni a few years younger. By my quick calculation, Rath will be around sixty-five to my forty-five now, both of us settled into adult bodies, physical aging having ceased in the last five years. He was just barely old enough to bare his throat to a female when I left.
Not that he ever cared about traditional timelines.
I’m given a necklace with five beads indicating I’m of above average value, an extra bead added for my learned skills.
“Mixed species female, recent onset of breeding age, correctible malnourishment. High, accessible, reproducible magical potential.” The orderly gives a shocked Maezii a once over. “You’ll have your pick. Have a care if you bargain with Aeddannari. It’s where your magical bloodline comes from.”
“I’m—I’m Fae?”
The orderly snorts, lifting a wing in a shrug. “No. You’re a throwback. Expected lifespan barring gross stupidity or other simple things that kill mortals, approximately four hundred and fifteen years. Onset of menopause not expected until approximately three hundred seventy-five. Congratulations, mortal. You’ll never need work again, except once every three years in a birthing room.”
I stare at Maezii, ignoring the comment about pregnancy and childbirth not being “work.” It’s not worth arguing over. Double an average Human lifespan in the Outlands. She can have a lot of babies during that time.
Hand trembling, she takes a necklace strung with six beads; seven is the highest and reserved for individuals who actively wield magical skills.
“Can I take one off?” she asks, recovering.
The Icarian gives her a shrewd look, but after a moment says, “You can. That is. . .wise.”
Because no one wants a bloodbath due to a bidding war that doesn’t go some spoiled Immortal’s way.
