Page 2 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)
Chapter 2
T he weight of my boots increases with each step, as if the cold, sterile floors of the Orion Outpost are sucking the life straight from the soles.
I keep pace behind High Chieftain Garrox as he speaks of our home planet Morcrest, how our luminore supply quotas must be doubled for some political reason. His voice buzzes in my ears like an irksome insect. Each of his words echoes too loudly in the sleek, metallic hallways of the space station. The High Chieftain’s speech has unusual undertones of excitement which further grates me. Adding to my growing unease from being stuck on this forsaken space station.
My thoughts wander elsewhere. Away from the political maneuvers, my High Chieftain is plotting. Instead, they drift towards my meeting at the engineering dock and the human I met there, Tasha.
I can’t get her out of my mind. Those deep, soulful brown eyes and her wild, curly dark hair. The way her full, pink lips parted when she smiled. She’s not the first human female I’ve crossed paths with, but there’s an inexplicable spark about her urging me to discover more. She’s the first to make my heart race with anticipation, awakening a longing inside me that craves to unravel her as she is unraveling me.
My brow creases as I try to pay attention to my High Chieftain. I should align myself with Garrox’s enthusiasm. But I find my thoughts returning to Tasha. Could such a fresh-faced human repair our ship in two days? Her bright yellow jumpsuit, as straight as her resolve, at odds with the glittery clip in her dark hair, stands out in my mind. I smile at the frivolous detail. A touch of her femininity in such a masculine environment.
Being on this space station, suspended in the cold, infinite expanse of the Orion Galaxy. Its vastness fills me with a sense of discomfort. Most Morcrestians, myself included, have a deep-seated affinity for the reassuring solidity of our home planet ever since the Orion Wars. All three clans of Morcrest take solace in the vast, lush jungle valleys, desert plains and the imposing, icy granite peaks. All have stood unyielding for millennia. My people have a saying, ‘We are the roots, the horizon, the guardians of time.’ A reminder of who we are, and what we represent.
The Orion Wars, a dark chapter in our history, have deepened this predisposition. Earth was discovered by the Corsairians as a thriving hub for both labor and resources. The Orion Galaxy descended into a bloody conflict. Morcrest found itself in the eye of this storm and bore losses greater than any other planet. It still taints our collective memory and provides a stark reminder of the heavy toll exacted by the recklessness of others.
But here, in the sterile corridors of the Orion Outpost, surrounded by other beings from all over the galaxy and the trappings of advanced technology, I am out of place. I long to be back home.
Garrox, once our Battle Commander, is different though. Now he dreams of a future where we ‘move away from our backwards’ way of life, where Morcrest stands tall and proud in the galactic arena once more.
I do not share his ideals, and I shake my head with regret for the path our High Chieftain is choosing to tread. But here I am on a space station, summoned by Garrox to attend some planetary summit as his guard and refusing his request is unthinkable.
The scars of my father’s dishonor drive me to seek justice where none was served. Garrox’s father, High Chieftain Morux, was murdered, and mine falsely accused. In the naivety of my youth, I hastily accepted the damning verdict against my father, too eager to preserve what little remained of our family’s dignity. Shame courses through my veins like poison as I confront the painful truth—I played a role in the tragic downfall of my father, succumbing to the manipulative whispers of my mother.
Her deceit, woven with words of false loyalty and veiled by her secret affair with Morux, clouded my judgment and fueled my belief in my father’s guilt. But time, as always, exposes the truth.
After she passed a rotation ago, the cloak of the betrayal woven by my mother lies revealed in her hidden diary — a damning confession detailing her knowledge of my father’s innocence. Filled with regret and desperation, her admission exposed the depths of her dishonesty. Furious, I burned that traitorous datapad, a rash action that fills me with deep regret.
Now I navigate the corridors of this wretched space station. Trailing behind Garrox like a reluctant specter. The weight of my father’s shame hangs heavy on my shoulders. The artificial lights flicker overhead, casting harsh shadows taunt the darkness swirling inside me. I quicken my steps to catch up with Garrox, eager to reach our destination. The High Chieftain strides ahead, his footsteps echoing with unwavering confidence.
I grit my teeth and try to suppress my instinctive urge to recoil from his presence. My role as his personal guard demands a facade of composure, no matter how much I despise the High Chieftain. As we approach the conference room, my stomach churns with a mixture of resentment and apprehension.
Confined within these cold walls for yet another mind-numbing meeting fills me with a sense of claustrophobia. With each step I take behind Garrox, I push against the whispers of shame that haunt me, because I need to confront the truth to find redemption and honor again.
A familiar hum of machinery draws my attention. The engineering dock! I make an involuntary glance sideways along the open floor-to-ceiling view ports to the flurry of activity on the level below. Among the humming machinery, I finally spot a figure that stands out — Tasha. I try to suppress my smile at the glimpse of the curvy human in yellow weaving in and out of workbenches. My cock thrums as a rush of blood floods south, threatening to make me hard as steel.
Her wild, dark hair is tamed in a bun, but loose tendrils frame her face as she peers at a screen. She is absorbed in her work, her delicate brows drawn together, her inviting mouth set in a determined pout, a far cry from the bright smiles I received last night.
I watch as her petite fingers manipulate the tools on her workbench. The dexterity of her movements mesmerizing me. She is beautiful, but it’s more than that. She is focused, driven, and smart. All qualities that intrigue me. Especially her creativity with her personal devices...
Tasha moves out of view. I swallow a groan. Garrox is oblivious, his conversation carrying on. I can’t focus. My eyes dart across the docks, eager to find her, but Tasha is nowhere to be seen. Garrox continues to list off the litany of people he wants to speak with directly after the summit, but I look out towards our ship, which is docked in a corner. It’s usually vibrant red energy core dimmed, a victim of some unexplained malfunction during our journey. It’s a sight which gnaws at my Morcrestian pride. To see our mighty vessel reduced to an ailing relic in a foreign dock, since we can no longer maintain it on our own.
Last night, Kyor had been all business. With his team stretched thin, and only one engineer to spare. The idea of entrusting our ship to a human is disconcerting. But I admit, there is something about the tiny female which makes me think she will do her best to sort whatever the problem might be. As I explained the issues in my limited understanding, she looked determined, like her life depended on this job.
Garrox’s voice interrupts my thoughts for a moment. “Why are you grinning? As I was saying...”
But I don’t hear another word. As I move along the glass corridor, I spy her again, her back turned to me, leaning over a table. My shaft stirs once more and hardens as I imagine what she looks like underneath that jumpsuit. Her plump, round ass and curvy hips. I would love to have them in the palms of my hands. As she glides with grace among a jungle of wires and terminals. Even at this distance, I can clearly see her jumpsuit struggling vainly to contain her ample curves as she bends over, lost in her work. I imagine her in my room, kneeling on my bed, her ass high in the air, and her wrists tied above her head.
My hand instinctively goes to adjust my stiffness, shifting it to the side of my pocket. Hopefully, it is enough of a disguise for my now glaring bulging desires. I clear my throat to distract myself from the direction my mind is going. Instead, I focus on the sight of her working meticulously.
Even that arouses something within me, a stirring which is both strange and compelling. And once again I indulge my fantasy, picturing Tasha working hard to fix our ship, sweat dripping down her brow. Her jumpsuit, slipping off her shoulders as she strains. Revealing just a peek of her collarbone. Her pale skin would glisten with a faint sheen. I could help with her jumpsuit, slide it down her shoulders, reveal more of her. Then I could touch her, hold her. I imagine taking her, her body writhing against mine, her gasps echoing in my ear. The heat of the desire coursing through my veins makes me pause. It has been so long since a female has stirred such hungriness within me.
Garrox is unaware, continuing on. I nod absently and give an affirmative grunt, but I haven’t heard a single word he’s said. My thoughts are on the tiny human and what I want to do with her. How I would like to feel her lips wrapped around my cock. Feel her tongue slide down its length as her fingers curl around its base, pumping hard.
I force myself to snap out of the fantasy. A bittersweet ache settles in my chest. I’m being a fool. Until I reclaim my honor, seeking a female is unjustified. Especially with someone as captivating as Tasha.
As Garrox and I leave the engineering zone behind, I redirect my mind from the lustful thoughts threatening to overwhelm me. There’s a natural wariness I should carry for her—after all, she’s human, and her kind played their part in the Orion Wars that tore through Morcrest. Yet, despite the history, and in spite of myself, I hold a flicker of curiosity sparked by her.
Soon, I will return to Morcrest, to the embrace of the familiar, and I tell myself that Tasha will become a whisper of a memory, diminished by the vastness of space and time. But there’s a hum in my mind, soft yet persistent, hinting that letting go of Tasha’s image won’t be as straightforward as I think. Even as Garrox’s voice snaps me back to the present, a part of me remains tethered to that last moment in the engineering dock, the image of Tasha etched a little too clearly in my thoughts.
We march towards the conference room, the gleaming metal doors looming ahead. As we draw nearer, I can’t help but feel the pull back to the engineering dock, Tasha, and the possibility of seeing her again soon. I can’t shake the idea something is changing and for the first time in a while, I feel hope.