Page 5 of The Orc's Captive Bride
The name was soft. Foreign.Beautiful.
He repeated it, the sound awkward in his mouth, then gave into impulse and provided her with his own name. “Khorrek.”
She mangled his name when she tried to repeat it but it was close enough that his Beast purred with satisfaction. It wanted his name on her lips. Wanted her breathless and panting and whispering it against his skin.
Stop.
The internal command was issued with the same discipline that had been beaten into him since childhood. He had to focus on the mission, on the memory of Lasseran’s cold eyes, and on the consequences of failure.
But she was still naked, still vulnerable, and without making a conscious decision, he stripped off his own tunic, the cool air a welcome shock against his heated skin, and dropped it over her.
Her head popped up through the neck hole, her hair sticking up in wild tangles, those glass things sitting crooked on her nose. She looked ridiculous. Adorable. His scent wrapped around her, marking her in a way that made his pulse pound and his blood heat.
It was a mistake, a stupid, instinct-driven mistake that he would pay for later.
But the satisfaction—the sheer, primal satisfaction—of seeing her covered in his scent and his clothing, was almost worth the price.
The tunic fell to mid-thigh, covering everything that needed covering. Good enough. It would have to be.
She stared up at him, those winter-sky eyes wide with something that might have been gratitude or might have been shock. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again.
“Thank you.”
The words were incomprehensible, but the meaning was clear enough. She understood the gesture. Understood that he’d just given her the only protection he could offer.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough against what waited for her in the south.A monster, he thought before he quickly buried the disloyal thought. His mission was to get her to Lasseran. Nothing more.
He pointed to her and then to the south before making a walking gesture with his fingers. He could tell from her expression that she understood what he meant, but he wasn’t entirely surprised when she didn’t move. Instead she began babbling in that incomprehensible language.
“You can’t stay here,” he told her. “You are not equipped to survive out here.”
Why am I trying to reason with her?
She still didn’t move, continuing to argue with him.
“You don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice hard as he repeated the gestures. That was better.
She stared up at him with those clear grey eyes, then very deliberately shook her head.
“No.”
His hand dropped to his sword, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to threaten her with it. Instead, he moved closer. She squeaked and took a step back but one of the giant stones was behind her and there was nowhere for her to go.
“You leave me no choice,” he told her, ignoring a faint pang of regret, then picked her up and dropped her over his shoulder.
She weighed even less than he’d anticipated, but she fought him with enough squirming outrage that carrying her required actual concentration. Her fists hammered against his back in a rhythm that would leave bruises on anyone less thick-skinned.
“Put me down! This is—this is assault! Kidnapping! I did not consent to?—”
The words meant nothing, but the tone was clear enough. She didn’t want to come with him.
It doesn’t matter,he told himself. Lasseran’s orders had been explicit: retrieve the female from the stone circle, keep her alive and unharmed, and bring her to Kel’Vara. The High King hadn’t said anything about making her happy about it.
His stride lengthened. The sooner they reached camp, the sooner he could put her down and stop feeling the heat of her skin against his bare shoulder, even through the tunic. Stop noticing how soft her thighs were beneath his hand. How small she was.
How his Beast stirred every time she moved.
Ignore it.
