Page 12 of The Orc's Captive Bride
He had been made into a weapon in Lasseran’s arsenal—sharp, controlled, and unquestioning.
Except lately, there had been questions. Doubts had crept in during the dark hours when he couldn’t sleep.
It is for the greater good, Lasseran always said.I will bring order to chaos, and unite the Five Kingdoms under one strong rule.
They were noble words, convincing words, but the faces in Khorrek’s nightmares didn’t look grateful for order. They looked betrayed.
He forced himself to push the thoughts away, and focus on the present. He had one simple task—deliver Thea, no, deliverthe femaleto Kel’Vara. There was no room for doubt or questions or the uncomfortable stirring of his Beast every time she looked at him.
Outside, the mercenaries’ voices had faded. Either they’d gone to sleep or moved their conversation far enough away that he couldn’t hear it.
The fire would burn down to coals soon. He should probably bank it for the night to make sure the embers stayed alive for the morning. He didn’t move.
Thea shifted in her sleep, making a small sound, the soft murmur of someone deep in dreams. The frames covering her eyes had slipped further down her nose. If they fell off, she might roll over and break them.
He told himself that was the only reason he moved. He told himself it was practical—Lasseran would be irritated if the human arrived unable to see—as he carefully, slowly, reached out and eased them off her face.
The frames were delicate, made of some material he didn’t recognize, smooth and cool to the touch. He set them aside, placing them where she’d see them when she woke. Despite his care, his fingers brushed against her skin, impossibly smooth and delicate. His hand hovered near her face for a moment longer than necessary, wanting to feel that softness again.
Instead he made himself pull back and settled against his pack again. He forced his breathing to even out as the night deepened around them. Stars appeared in the gap of the tent opening—constellations he knew from years of sleeping under open sky. The Warrior’s Belt. The Crown of Thorns. The Broken Chain. He’d heard others tell stories about those stars, but they weren’t his stories.
She made another noise, and this time it was distress—a whimper that spoke of bad dreams. He tensed as he watched herface contort. and saw her curl tighter into the furs like she was trying to make herself disappear.
Nightmares.
It was only to be expected. She’d been ripped from her world and dumped into this one. She was surrounded by strangers and unable to communicate. She was afraid and alone.
He should let her wake on her own, and deal with her fear herself. Instead, he found himself speaking to her in a low, soft voice.
“You’re safe.”
It was undoubtedly a lie. Lasseran’s plans were never safe. But in this moment, in this tent, with him keeping guard against anyone who might hurt her? It was true enough.
The sound of his voice seemed to reach her even in sleep. Her expression smoothed out and the tension in her shoulders eased. She settled back into deeper sleep, her breathing slow and even
He watched her for a moment longer, then he closed his eyes and tried to find his own rest, knowing it wouldn’t come easy. It never did anymore.
Even if he did sleep, a part of him would remain on guard, alert to any intruder. He would make sure she stayed warm and safe and unharmed.
For Lasseran, he told himself again, but the lie was wearing thin.
Outside, the fire cracked and popped as the last of the larger branches burned down to coals. The horses shifted in their sleep. Somewhere in the distance, that strange night bird called again—a lonely sound that echoed across the plains.
His hand rested near his sword. It was an old habit, an ingrained response to sleeping in hostile territory.
Except this didn’t feel hostile. It felt…
Don’t.
He shut down that line of thinking before it could fully form—before he could put words to the uncomfortable warmth in his chest when he looked at the sleeping female. The last thing he heard before exhaustion finally dragged him under was her murmuring in her sleep—a soft, incomprehensible word that sounded almost like his name.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cold woke her.
Not the gentle chill of a drafty bedroom or forgotten blanket, but the bone-deep cold that came from sleeping on the ground in nothing but an oversized tunic and borrowed furs.
Thea’s eyes snapped open. Darkness pressed in from all sides—not the familiar darkness of her apartment with its ambient city glow bleeding through the curtains, but absolute, profound darkness broken only by a sliver of starlight through what appeared to be a tent opening.
