Page 188 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“Ah,” his silken voice carried easily across the space between them. “You’ve arrived just in time for the ceremony.”
His pale, empty eyes moved from face to face, lingering on Khorrek with mocking recognition.
“Loyal Khorrek. Or not so loyal after all, it seems.” His perfect mouth curved in a sneer. “I wondered where you’d gone. Taking my prize and running away with her.”
Thea felt Khorrek tense beside her, heard the low growl that rumbled from his chest.
“She was never yours to take,” he snarled.
“No?” Lasseran’s smile widened, revealing teeth too white, too perfect to be natural. “Everything in the Five Kingdoms is mine by right. By blood. By destiny.”
His gaze shifted to her, and something like genuine surprise flickered across his aristocratic features.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Very interesting. The legends did mention a vessel, but I assumed it was metaphorical.” He tilted his head, studying her with clinical detachment. “Tell me, Dr. Monroe—how does it feel to be possessed by a dying god?”
The presence within her stirred, and words that were not her own formed on her lips.
“Better than it will feel to be destroyed by one,” she heard herself say, her voice overlaid with something deeper, older.
Lasseran laughed, the sound echoing across the water.
“Bold words. But I’ve studied these rituals for decades. I know exactly what comes next.” He gestured to the altar. “You need my blood. My power. My willing sacrifice.” His smile turned cruel. “And I’m afraid I’m not in a sacrificial mood tonight.”
He turned back to the kneeling orcs. “These fine specimens, however, are. Aren’t you, boys?”
None of the warriors responded. None even looked up.
Lasseran’s smile faltered. “I said, aren’t you ready to serve your king?”
Still nothing.
With a snarl that cracked his perfect facade, he grabbed the nearest warrior by the hair, yanking his head back. “I command you to answer!”
Through her golden haze, Thea saw the warrior’s face—scarred, proud, and absolutely unafraid.
“I serve no false king,” he said quietly.
Lasseran released him with a shove, stepping back.
“So it’s like that, is it? A little rebellion? How quaint.” His hand went to the sword at his hip. “No matter. I don’t need willing sacrifices. Dead ones work just as well.”
He drew the blade—a thin, elegant thing that gleamed with unnatural blue light.
“Perhaps I’ll start with you, Khorrek.” His voice had gone soft again. Dangerous. “My most promising student. My greatest disappointment.”
No! Thea tried to shout, to move, to do something. But her body responded to the goddess, not to her own frantic will.
Instead, she felt herself stepping forward, placing her body between Khorrek and Lasseran. The golden light around her pulsed brighter.
“No,” she heard herself say, the goddess’s tones now dominant in her voice. “This ends now, Lasseran. Your time is over.”
She felt her arms raise, and the air around her shimmered.
Lasseran’s expression flickered—uncertainty crossing his perfect features for perhaps the first time in centuries.
But it passed quickly, replaced by cold determination.
“Kill them,” he ordered, gesturing to the warriors behind him. “Kill them all.”
