Page 62 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“What changed?”
“You.” The admission tore out of him, raw and angry. “You changed everything. From the moment I saw you in that stone circle, my Beast has been… different. Wrong. Demanding things I was trained to suppress.”
“Like what?”
“Like protecting you instead of the High King. Like caring whether you’re afraid or safe or hurt. Like wanting—” He stopped. Swallowed hard.
“Wanting what?”
“Things I have no right to want.”
She took another step closer. She was within easy striking distance, but still unafraid.
“Tell me about the training,” she said quietly. “Not the combat training. The other kind. The breaking.”
His hands clenched harder, his claws emerging to bite into palms.
“They isolated us. Kept us separate from each other except during drills. Any sign of attachment to another orc was punished. Brutally.” His voice went hollow. “I watched friends die because they showed affection. Saw brothers torn apart because they tried to protect each other.”
“Gods.”
“There were no gods in those halls. Only trainers and their rules.” He forced himself to continue. To give her the truth she asked for, no matter how ugly. “They taught us that emotion was weakness. That loyalty to anything except the throne was treason. That our lives had value only in service.”
“That’s not training,” she whispered. “That’s torture.”
“It’s conditioning. And it works.”
“Does it?” She met his eyes. “Because from where I’m standing, you seem to be feeling a great deal of emotion right now.”
“I’m failing,” he snarled. “Every time I look at you, every time I want to protect you from him instead of protect him from you, every time I think about choosing your safety over his orders—I’m failing everything I was raised to be.”
“Or you’re becoming what you were meant to be.”
“I was meant to be a weapon!”
“No.” Her hand came up, gently cupping his scarred face. “You were meant to be a person. They stole that from you. But it’s not gone, Khorrek. It’s still there. I can see it.”
“You see what you want to see.”
“I see a male who gives his tunic to a naked stranger even though he doesn’t have to. Who teaches her his language. Who carriesher to bed when she falls asleep over her books.” Her thumb traced the line of his scar. “I see someone who’s been hurt and broken and forced into a role he never chose. But I also see someone who’s strong enough to question it.”
“Questioning it doesn’t change what I am.”
“Maybe not. But it’s a start.”
He closed his eyes, torn between pulling away and leaning into her touch. Her hand was so small against his face, so precious.
“I’ve killed people,” he said. “Innocent people. People who were just in the wrong place when Lasseran gave an order.”
“I know.”
“I’ve burned villages. Destroyed families. Done things I can never take back or atone for.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still standing here. Still touching me. Still looking at me like I’m worth something.”
“Because you are.” Her other hand came up, framing his face. “What was done to you doesn’t define you, Khorrek. What you choose to do now does.”
