Page 13 of Agor the Merciless (Orc Mates #10)

Agor pushed himself up from the bed and fastened his leather pants, then added his usual belt.

“You are free to walk among the horde. You may speak with whomever you please.” His tone was low and firm, like he was giving her orders, laying out her rights and responsibilities.

Zoe didn’t move.

“But the garage is forbidden. Your hands will remain clean. Your role is to be my mate.” He turned to her. “Beautiful. Cared for.”

He spoke as if granting her a precious gift. As if limiting her freedom was his highest tribute.

“And if I don’t accept those terms?”

“There are no other terms.”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted.”

“I changed my mind.” He reached for her. “This is for the best.”

She shifted away and gestured to the cave that now felt like a prison. “I need more than this!”

“There is nothing more. I will give you everything. Food. Safety. Pleasure.”

“Everything except freedom.”

“Freedom to what? To work in filth? To risk injury?” His gaze dropped to her arm where the lift accident scar was still visible. He hadn’t said anything about it, but it was clear to her now that he’d noticed it and it was bothering him. “Never.”

Arguing changed nothing. He controlled everything here. It was his physical strength, his position, and that stupid magic cream that betrayed her will. Words meant nothing against such power, and she had no way to fight him.

She turned away, wrapping herself in the pelts, not caring if he stayed longer or fucked off wherever orc captains fucked off during the day. After a few minutes, she heard him leave.

***

Later that day, Zoe stepped out of the cave into harsh sunlight.

She squinted until her eyes adjusted. The settlement bustled with morning activity.

Orcs moved about their tasks – carrying water, stoking fires, sharpening blades – while she stood apart, constrained by rules they couldn’t see.

She took a deep breath and decided to walk around.

After the night she’d had, the light exercise would make her feel better. She hoped, at least.

She passed the tanning racks, where hides stretched in the sun, past the hunting station where arrowheads waited, then wandered without purpose, replaying the morning’s confrontation with Agor in her head.

Yesterday, she’d believed she’d found a place where her strength was valued, where her skills could contribute something meaningful, where her knowledge wasn’t an inconvenience but an asset.

Instead, she’d become an ornament. A possession.

Beautiful, he’d said. Cared for. To be more exact, useless.

The garage sat at the edge of the clearing, its makeshift walls now forbidden territory. Inside, engines waited, metal parts needed assembly, problems remained unsolved. She missed the weight of a socket wrench, the triumph of hearing an engine roar to life.

Maybe coming here was a mistake. Maybe she should demand to be returned to the institute. From there, she could start over somewhere new. Find a different garage. Build a life where no one reduced her to decoration.

The central fire pit dominated the settlement’s heart.

Smoke rose from cooking meat, and Pira knelt beside it, grinding something with a stone mortar.

Zana sat nearby, working a needle through leather.

Their heads bent close together, voices low.

As Zoe approached, Pira looked up. The conversation stopped.

Both female orcs straightened, their expressions shifting to neutrality.

They’d been talking about her.

Of course they had. Everyone had witnessed her humiliation, seen her dragged from the garage, heard the captain’s anger echo through the cave.

The entire horde knew of her punishment, of the boundaries set around her like a fence around livestock.

She pushed down her reaction. These women weren’t her enemies, so Zoe stopped before them.

“Pira. Zana.”

“Zoe! You are... well this morning?” asked Pira.

“I’m fine. What are you working on today?”

Zana held up a leather tunic with a jagged tear down one side.

“Mending. Roric was careless with a blade. Again.”

“Must be the third time this month.” Pira kept her eyes on Zoe. “Always testing the sharpness on fabric, but at least he didn’t cut himself this time.”

“Fool man.” Zana’s needle pierced the leather with newfound intensity.

Pira lifted a bundle of dried plants. “I’m preparing these for the evening meal. They will make the stew taste better.” She extended the bundle toward Zoe. “Would you like to smell?”

Zoe leaned forward, inhaling the spicy-sweet aroma. “That’s nice.”

“From the northern slopes,” Pira said. “Where the sun hits most of the day.”

Silence fell between them. The female orc cleared her throat.

“How do you find our forest home? So different from human buildings, yes?”

“It’s beautiful,” Zoe admitted. “The mountains, the trees, the clean air... that’s not the problem.”

Zana looked up. “Problem?”

“I meant…” Zoe backpedaled. “It’s just different. I’m used to concrete and noise.”

“You’ll adapt quickly,” Pira said. “Yesterday you walked the camp like you belonged. Most humans stumble through underbrush for weeks.”

“I like being outdoors.” Zoe stared at the tree line. “Always wanted more of it. In the city, you forget what real air tastes like.”

“On the next full moon, we’ll have a gathering,” Pira said. “Under the stars, with music. You will like it, I think.”

“I remember...” Zana began, then paused. “I offered to teach you tanning. But perhaps that is unwise now.”

Pira’s eyes widened.

“The captain has made his wishes clear,” Zana continued, lowering her voice. “I would not anger him by encouraging you to work.”

“Right,” Zoe said. “No work for the captain’s precious mate.”

Pira the Forager adjusted her herbs, her discomfort evident.

“The summer brings many berries. Sweet ones. We could show you the best picking spots instead.”

“Berries,” Zoe repeated. “That’s allowed?”

“Food gathering is acceptable for all females,” Zana said. “Even captains’ mates.”

“How generous of him.”

“Zoe...” Pira glanced around. “The captain protects what is his.”

“I don’t need protection from work.”

The conversation died. Zoe felt their pity, their navigation around her new status.

“I should go.” She nodded and turned away.

***

From across the camp, Agor watched. He observed his mate move among the horde, her head high, her steps measured. He noted the distance she placed between herself and the others, the short exchanges, the straight posture.

Pride filled him. She carried herself with dignity befitting a captain’s mate. She accepted her place. She didn’t argue or complain to the others, didn’t seek sympathy or cause discord.

This was why he had chosen her. This strength.

This resilience. The same qualities that had enabled her to endure his passion, now allowed her to accept his protection.

He had made the right decision. She needed guidance and boundaries.

She would understand in time that her place was not among grease and metal, but at his side, honored and preserved.

The anger would fade, the coldness would warm, and she would see that he acted out of love.

Agor nodded to himself. He had preserved her fire while guiding it. Just as he’d intended.

***

Zoe retreated to the cave at dusk. She lay on the bed of pelts, clothed, boots still laced. She didn’t know if she could resist him tonight, not with that damned salve, but at least by keeping her clothes on, she hoped to set the mood – one of complete refusal.

Half an hour later, footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Her heart started beating faster. It seemed this was the effect he had on her, and she’d better get used to it.

If she didn’t, she’d end up having a heart attack one day.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But she’d develop a heart condition, for sure.

Agor ducked through the entrance, and immediately noticed her on the bed, bundled up as if it were winter, not summer.

Zoe expected him to speak, to demand she undress, to show anger at her silent defiance.

Instead, he moved into the room and removed his leather vest. That intrigued her.

She watched as he adjusted the candles, his tattoos like dark, ominous shadows on his back.

He turned, and the light revealed his chest – green skin marked with deep scars from past battles.

Despite everything, she wondered about the story behind each of them.

Who had wounded him? Who had healed him?

Agor walked to the wooden trunk in the corner and lifted the lid. He searched inside, his back to her. This was her chance to speak up, but it was as if her voice refused to listen to her. She found she couldn’t utter a single word.

First, Agor removed the rest of his clothes.

His leather pants pooled around his ankles, then he stepped out of them and bent down to remove his boots.

Zoe’s eyes widened as she saw his heavy sack hang between his powerful thighs.

Before realizing what she was doing, she licked her lips.

The orc captain straightened his back, his joints popping satisfyingly.

He let out a groan, and the sound seemed to reverberate through the room and seep into Zoe’s core.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. What was happening to her?

Sure, she wanted him. But she was mad at him, too.

That had to count! She opened her eyes because she couldn’t refuse herself the raw, rugged beauty of her orc mate’s body.

Not when he was only a few feet away, naked and hard all over.

When Agor finally turned, she saw he was holding the clay jar. Her emotions were confusing. She didn’t want it, yet she did. She hated that contradiction. As he approached, she didn’t move away.

Their eyes met as he sat beside her. The ointment’s scent reached her nostrils, and her skin responded in anticipation, goosebumps prickling from her hairline to her toes.