Page 28 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 28

The battletreader rumbles to a stop. Droilin and I disembark, the icy wind whipping at our faces as we survey our surroundings.

“We’ll have to continue on foot from here,” Droilin says, his voice low and tense. “We can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

I nod, pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders. The cold seems to seep into my very bones, but I push the discomfort aside. I can’t help but scan the horizon, my eyes searching for any sign of danger.

“Do you think they’ll find us?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “The Nexus Fist, or the Astral Hunters?”

Droilin’s jaw tightens, his hand drifting to the hilt of his blade. “They might try. But we’ll be ready for them.”

We walk in silence for a while, the only sound the crunch of our boots against the frozen earth.

“Where are we going to go?” I ask Droilin, his pace fast and his body tense.

Droilin glances at me, his expression softening slightly. “To my parents’ old home. It’s on the edge of town, and I don’t think anyone remembers it. It’ll be a bit run-down, but it’s the safest place we can go.”

I nod, a flicker of warmth kindling in my chest at the thought of seeing where Droilin grew up. It’s a small thing, but amid all this turbulence, it feels precious.

As we enter the outskirts of Frosthok, the streets are quiet, most of the residents are still at work in the mines. We stick to the shadows, our eyes constantly sweeping the surroundings for any sign of trouble.

A flash of light catches my eye. I stop dead, my heart leaping into my throat.

“Droilin,” I hiss, pointing to the storefront window. “Look.”

“What is it?” Droilin asks, his voice taut.

He follows my gaze, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight. There, flickering on a holographic display, are our faces. The images shift, showing the explosion on the Orion Outpost, the collapse of the Jrosk mine. And beneath it all, a glaring red accusation: “Wanted for Treason.”

My blood runs cold as I read the words, the enormity of our situation crashing over me anew. Not only are we fugitives, but there’s a bounty on our heads. The credits would be life-changing and an incentive for anyone to rat us out. Dread pools in my core.

“This isn’t fair,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “We’re innocent.”

Droilin’s hand finds mine, his fingers lacing with my own. “And we will prove it,” he says, his tone fierce with perseverance. “But for now, we need to keep moving. We can’t risk being seen.”

As we walk up the quiet street, I wonder at the contrast here to the busy activity of the mine. The buildings loom over us, their shadows providing a welcome respite from the harsh glare of the twin suns. Droilin leads me down a narrow alley, our footsteps echoing off the worn cobblestones.

We stop in front of a small, unassuming house, its walls weathered by time and the elements. Droilin glances around, ensuring no one has followed us. “This is it,” he murmurs, his voice low. “No one comes this way.”

He opens the door, the hinges creaking softly, and ushers me inside. As I step over the threshold, I notice the place is small, but cozy. The furniture is a little worn, and a layer of dust has settled with disuse. What a lovely home to raise a family in. A lump forms in my throat at the thought. Is that what I want?

I wander through the rooms, taking in the details. The kitchen is small but functional, with appliances that look startlingly similar to those from my home on the Venturis human colony. The living area is dotted with personal touches—a handwoven rug, a carved wooden statue, a faded tapestry depicting a scene from Morcrestian history.

Two bedrooms branch off from the main living space, their doors slightly ajar. I peek into one, and see a simple bed and the window that overlooks the area we just came from.

“You can see the entire street and the mine from here,” Droilin says, coming up behind me.

I nod, my gaze drawn to the cluttered garden at the back of the house. Scrap wood and metal are strewn about, haphazard piles that speak of half-finished projects and discarded ideas. A ramshackle shed leans against the far wall, its roof sagging and its paint peeling.

“We should keep a low profile,” Droilin advises, his voice pulling me from my observations. “No lights or fires. We’ll leave when Chieftain Yalrog sends a message.”

The mention of the Rite, the impending duel between Droilin and Garrox, makes my stomach churn. “What do we do until then?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Droilin sighs, running a hand through his white hair. “We rest.”

I study his face, taking in the tension in his jaw, the furrow of his brow. “Are you scared?” I ask softly, stepping closer.

He meets my gaze, his dark eyes searching mine. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” he admits, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t let Garrox continue his rule. For the sake of our people, the luminore... it’s my duty to fight him.”

I reach out, placing a hand on his arm. “I wish I could help.”

Droilin covers my hand with his own, his touch warm and reassuring. “You are, by being here. With you, I feel stronger and more certain of the future.”

His words make my heart flutter amidst the turmoil and danger around us. Ever since arriving in Morcrest, accused and exiled, he’s been my rock. Steadfast, loyal, determined to protect me even when it put his own life at risk. He’s never judged me for being human, never seen me as lesser. If anything, my skills and perseverance seem to impress him.

And now, with everything on the line, he still stands by my side. Willing to sacrifice it all for the honor and justice he holds dear.

The words tumble from my lips before I can second-guess them. “I love you, Droilin.” I can’t let it go unsaid for a moment longer, not with such uncertainty looming.

His eyes widen in surprise. For a breath, I fear I’ve overstepped, that I’ve pushed too far. Then he cups my cheek, smiling gently. “Oh Tasha,” he murmurs. “I hoped, but I never dreamed...”

He trails off, at a loss for words. But none are needed. I can see it in his eyes — he loves me too.

Droilin pulls me close, his arms encircling me. I breathe him in, memorizing his scent, the steadiness of his heartbeat against my cheek.

“I love you too,” he whispers into my hair. “No matter what happens, know that you’ve made me happier than I ever dreamed possible.”

I melt into his embrace, the worries of the world falling away. In this moment, in this quiet house on a forgotten street, there is only us. His lips find mine in a deep, passionate kiss.

“Mmmm,” I moan, as his tusks graze my skin, his tongue swirling against mine.

Droilin grips me tighter, his hands roaming my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I gasp as his fingers brush the swell of my breasts, my nipples hardening under his touch.

He picks me up and carries me into the bedroom, his eyes dark with desire.

“I need you, Tasha. I need to claim you with my bite. My bite marks you as my only mate. I want you to be mine, always. But only if that is what you want also, my heart.”

His words send a rush of heat through my body, my core clenching with need.

I pull his head down to mine, kissing him fiercely, my fingers tangling in his white hair.

“I want your bite and I want to be your mate. I’m all yours, Droilin,” I breathe, my body responding to his touch.

He lays me on the bed and undresses me slowly, his hands caressing my skin.

His fingers trail along my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach.

I shiver, my body trembling with desire.

He presses kisses to my neck, my breasts, my belly.

His lips find the apex of my thighs, his tongue licking a trail along my folds.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes full of desire.

I arch into him, my body craving more.

He continues to worship me with his mouth, his tongue swirling against my clit, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

I writhe beneath him, moaning and gasping, my hips bucking against his face.

He holds me still, his grip firm and possessive.

He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I cry out, my climax crashing over me like a wave.

As I come down from my high, I notice his cock is rock hard. Every time I see it, I marvel at its uniqueness, and a thrill runs through me. His member is thick, and covered in ridges and bumps. It is a work of art. His spur is an addition I didn’t expect but puts all my engineering efforts to shame with the pleasure it brings me.

I’m eager to reach for his cock as it juts out from his body, the bulbous tip leaking delectable pre-cum that tastes deliciously sweet.

I reach for it, stroking it slowly, the slick fluid coating my fingers.

“Droilin, I want you to fuck me,” I breathe, my voice thick with desire.

“Yes, little human, I will,” he rumbles, his eyes dark with lust.

He positions himself between my legs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

“I want you, Tasha. All of you. To be with me forever. To be my mate,” he growls, his eyes flashing.

“Yes, Droilin. I want you. I want to be your mate. Always.”

He eases into me slowly, his girth stretching me, filling me.

“You’re so tight,” he grunts, his eyes hooded as he drives into me, his spurs pressing against my clit, the sensation sending sparks through my body.

“Oh, Droilin,” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Droilin,” I moan, my eyes rolling back in my head.

“Mine,” he growls, his grip on my hips tightening.

He thrusts into me, his pace growing frantic, his body slamming into mine.

I cry, the pleasure building within me. “Fuck!”

“You’re mine, Tasha. Forever,” he snarls, his tusks grazing my shoulder, as he bites me, marking me as his. Then he roars, his orgasm tearing through him. His seed erupts, his hot cum filling me.

I cry out, the pleasure-pain sending me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me.

As I ride the waves of ecstasy, Droilin holds me close, his grip possessive and protective.

“I love you, Tasha,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too, Droilin,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper.

I snuggle closer, my body still trembling with aftershocks, and I feel peace of knowing, for once, I’m exactly where I belong. That I only want to be wherever Droilin is. He has shown me much of Morcrest, and it is beyond my expectations. I push away the thoughts of the Rite, of the chance that Droilin might not return.

No. I have to be strong. For him, for us, for our future.

But I can’t help the shiver that runs down my spine. The wind howls, and the trees outside groan under the weight of the snow. The air is filled with an ominous iciness and I feel the storm brewing, and the stakes have never been higher.

I pull Droilin closer, and I hold on to him tightly, never wanting to let go. Because even if he succeeds, there’s a chance I could still lose him. I’m an exile, after all.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“Never,” he replies, like it’s a promise.

I sigh, and let sleep take me.

In his arms, I am safe, and I can almost believe that everything will be alright.

The next morning when I wake, the bed is empty, and I feel a wave of panic rush through me. Was the last few days a dream? No, my body is still sore, and my muscles ache from his powerful thrusts. I feel a pleasant throb on my shoulder where Droilin bit me as I touch the tender area and secretly hope it scars. I can still smell his musky scent on the pillow.

The front door closes, and I jump up, my heart pounding. “Droilin?” I hiss loudly, my voice echoing through the house.

“I’m here, Tasha,” he answers normally, a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, a tremor in my words.

“Yes, I was just doing some training, and I found us some breakfast. I have something to show you. Meet me at the back door,” he replies, a hint of excitement in his tone.

“Okay,” I call back, promptly pulling on my clothes, my interest aroused.

As I make my way to the backdoor, I’m greeted by a clear sky, the twin rising suns paint the frosty garden with an ethereal lilac glow. I carefully navigate the broken bits of wood and metal strewn across the ground. My eyes are fixed on Droilin standing outside a small, dilapidated red shack, which I noticed yesterday. The doors are propped open, revealing glimpses of machinery, abandoned tools, and unfinished projects.

“What is this place?” I ask, moving closer to peer inside the workshop.

“Well, my father wasn’t just the guard to the High Chieftain. He also liked to fix things, make stuff,” Droilin explains, a wistful smile on his face.

“Your dad was an engineer as well?”

“No, no, he was more like a tinkerer. He had a talent for figuring out how things worked and fixing them. He would spend hours in this shed, tinkering away, always trying to hone something.”

Droilin pauses, his eyes meeting mine. “Reminds me of someone else... Not that you’re a tinkerer — you are far more talented!”

I laugh as Droilin rubs his hair awkwardly, a gesture that’s become endearingly familiar.

“My mother used to come out here and get him. She would have a special dinner cooked, and he’d leave his work for the day,” he continues, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

“You miss him,” I say, my heart aching for his loss.

“I do, very much.” Droilin sighs, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his grief. “I suppose I just wanted to show you who he was. He would have loved you.”

I squeeze his hand, a lump forming in my throat. The pain he must be feeling, the grief he hasn’t fully dealt with... I wish I could take it all away .

“Come, I have something else to show you,” Droilin says, leading me into the workshop.

He points to a large crate in the corner, and inside, I see the shell of a hover-rider. “My dad made this, years ago. He had grand plans of using it for travel with mother, but he could never quite get it to work...” Droilin trails off, his voice thick with emotion.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I haven’t been in here since the funeral. My mother wanted to get rid of his tools and old projects. She called it junk, but I couldn’t do it. So, we just left it here.” he sighs, sadness in his eyes.

“Droilin, I’d be honored to take a look at this stuff. Perhaps I can finish what your father started.” I reply, my heart swelling with love for this brave, vulnerable orc.

Droilin looks at me, his eyes filled with emotion as he nods, and I can’t help but kiss him, pouring all my love and support into the gesture.

The shrill ping of his datapad shatters the moment. “Yalrog says he has made contact with Chieftain Keklor. He hasn’t agreed to support the Rite yet, but Yalrog says to give him more time,” Droilin informs me, his forehead wrinkled.

A heaviness fills my heart, fear and uncertainty clawing at my insides. “What happens if he doesn’t agree, Droilin? You can’t confront Garrox yet, not until we know for sure!”

“We’re just going to have to wait. The only way is the Rite, and we can’t risk a battle with him until the others are here. Then we can proceed.” Droilin says, his voice strained. “Come, let’s have some breakfast.”

“Okay,” I agree, following him inside the house, the air feeling colder than it was a moment ago. As I sit at the dusty dining room table, my mind races, trying to come up with a solution. Droilin washes some vegetables, and I pour us warm tea.

“Where did you get this food?” I ask, knowing his family home has been out of use for some time.

“We may be on the run, Tasha, but I still have some good neighbors that won’t be bought by propaganda,” he says with a wink. “They left a discreet parcel at the step while I was out this morning.”

“Oh,” I reply, a blush warming my cheeks, recalling our lovemaking last night.

“Obviously, they heard about us being wanted criminals and wanted to help. They don’t know why, of course, but it was a gracious gesture,” Droilin smiles.

We eat in silence, my thoughts consumed by the possibility of losing Droilin. I’ve only just found him, and the idea of anything happening to him... it’s unbearable.

“We should go back to the battletreader,” I suggest suddenly, the idea popping into my head. “We could take it and get away from here, just the two of us.”

Droilin shakes his head, his expression solemn. “I can’t run away, Tasha. My family has suffered enough dishonor at Garrox’s hands already. He is not the rightful High Chieftain, and when the Rite goes ahead, his deceit will be laid bare for all to see.”

He reaches across the table and takes my hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I have to face him. It’s the only way to regain my clan’s honor and prove his treachery once and for all.”

I feel tears pricking at my eyes. I know he’s right, but the thought of losing him so soon after finding each other is too much to bear.

“But what if something happens to you during the Rite?” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I just got you. I can’t lose you.”

Droilin’s gaze softens. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch tender. “Whatever happens, know that you’ve given me a happiness I never thought possible. Just having you here with me now, it’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

A single tear escapes, trailing down my cheek. Droilin wipes it away gently.

“I have to do this,” he says, his voice quiet but steady. “It’s the only way. But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to come back to you.”

I cling to his words, but I don’t reply, my mind racing. There must be something else I can do! I need to move. This sitting around isn’t helping my ability to think clearly. I stand and pace the kitchen, my gaze landing on the red outbuilding. His dad’s workshop!

“Can I have a look at your father’s again?” I ask brightly, trying to lift the tension.

“Of course,” Droilin agrees, “but why?”

“I need to do something. Pacing is bad for me, so I’m going to fix it,” I explain, purpose rising within me.

“Tasha, that is a lost cause. My father tried for years and never succeeded.” Droilin warns.

“Fine, I’ll start by making a list of parts I’ll need. It’ll keep me occupied,” I concede, a plan already forming in my mind.

“Okay, Tasha. If you insist,” Droilin relents, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’ll going on another perimeter check while you work.”

I wave as I open the backdoor and stride across the garden, eager to lose myself in the familiar task. Droilin’s gaze follows me, intense and protective, and I can’t help but smile. Even during this madness, his presence is a constant comfort. I’m falling deeper in love with him.

I recall the first time I met him at the Orion Outpost. Back then, I thought he was a little arrogant and a lot cheeky, but now I see his true colors. And I can’t imagine my life without him.

My mind wanders to the Planetary Police officer. The flexicard she gave me is still hidden away in my cell. If only I could reach out to her...

Lost in thought, I don’t notice the figure stepping out in front of me until it’s too late. An all too familiar Morcrestian with three parallel scars running across his throat and a wicked grin leers down at me, his eyes glinting with malice.

“Well, what have we here? My pretty little Fresh Pink Meat? Looks like my hunt has come to an end,” he sneers, his voice sending a chill across my flesh.

My heart hammers in my chest, fear gripping me as I recognize the orc before me. “Claws,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “What are you doing here?”

“My name isn’t Claws, but I’m glad you remember me, Pink Meat.” Claws sneers, his eyes glinting with a sick satisfaction. “I’ve been looking forward to our little reunion... and now you’re all mine.”

Panic rises within me, memories of his attack in the Frosthok mine flooding back. I open my mouth to scream for Droilin, but Claws is too quick. He clamps his hand over my mouth, his grip like a vise.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he taunts, his face inches from mine. “No calling for your precious Droilin. It’s just you and me, pretty one. And this time, there won’t be any interruptions.”

I struggle against his hold, kicking and clawing at him, but he’s too strong. He drags me towards the workshop, his intentions clear.

“You thought you could escape me, didn’t you?” he hisses, his breath hot against my ear. “Thought you were safe? Well, think again.”

Claws throws me against the wall, his body pins me, while his one arm snakes around my neck. “Don’t fight it, Pink Meat. You’ve been teasing me since the moment we met, with your tight little jumpsuit and your pretty pink skin. Shame, I’ve got to bring you somewhere else now, but we’ll have fun soon.”

I writhe beneath him, bile rising in my throat at his touch. “No,” I choke out, my voice muffled by his hand. “Please, don’t do this.”

My body trembles as I fight against his grasp, kicking and biting his hand. But he’s too strong, and his grip only tightens, and I feel myself going limp.

“That’s it, Pink Meat. Just relax,” he says, his voice cold in the distance of my mind.