Page 35 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 35

My mind drifts, lost in the darkness. The sound of Tasha’s voice, soft and gentle, reaches me, and I want to cling to her, but I’m too tired, the pain overwhelming.

“Sleep, Droilin, you need rest. I’m here and you are safe.”

Her voice is soothing, and I drift into the darkness, my body relaxed.

As my eyes flutter open, the first image that comes into focus is Tasha’s beloved face, her hand on my chest. Relief washes over me — she is here, she is safe. I feel stronger; the pain is less severe now.

“You are awake!” she says, her voice rough from just waking herself. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I say, and move my arm, the movement slow, but not painful. I try to sit up, and Tasha helps prop me up. The familiar sight of Nan’s shack soothes me.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days,” she says, her eyes wet. “Officer McCoy is here. She’s working with the Chieftains for her corruption case. She wants to speak to you once you’re well enough.”

“That’s good,” I say, and give her hand a squeeze, my strength returning. “How are you, my heart?” I ask as I tuck a stray strand of hair behind Tasha’s ear, my eyes never leaving hers.

Tasha smiles, her face tired, but her eyes are clear, and her lips are full and rosy.

I lean in and kiss her, and the familiar sensation of her lips on mine sends a jolt of desire through me.

Nan barks at me, “Droilin, don’t make me knock you out again.”

Tasha laughed, the sound light and clear, and pulls away, her face flushed.

“Sorry, Nan,” I say, not sounding sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Nan replies, her tone amused. “Now, rest.”

“Yes, healer,” I say, and give her a nod, knowing not to argue.

Nan leaves, muttering about young warriors and their stubbornness.

“What happened after the fight? Is everyone alright?”

Tasha recounts the events, her voice shaky at times.

“And now Officer McCoy is gathering evidence. She thinks there’s some connection between Garrox and his accomplices and some of her other cases.”

Looking at Tasha, I never imagined I would find a more loyal and alluring female. I want us to be mated in the Morcrestian life-mate way. The events of the past while have shown me how life can change so fast, so I must waste no time in asking her.

“I’m sorry you were hurt, Tasha, but I’m so relieved you’re okay. You saved me, my heart. Your love kept me alive when I would have given up. My love for you burns bright, my Tasha, my life-mate... if you will have me?”

Tasha leans forward, her lips brushing against mine. The scent of her, the taste of her. It’s all I can focus on.

I deepen the kiss, pulling her closer as she climbs in beside me, her body pressed against mine, and her warmth soothing.

“You don’t even need to ask, Droilin,” Tasha says, and kisses me again, her lips soft and warm, and the world fades away, leaving only her, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her breath against my skin, the scent of her hair, filling my senses.

“Tasha, I love you,” I murmur, my voice rough, and kiss her again, the feeling of her soft lips sending shivers down my spine.

I want her, and I know she wants me. I can feel the desire between us.

Her lips meet mine, and the world falls away. Nothing matters, nothing exists, except her.

I deepen the kiss, and run my fingers down her back, my hands exploring her body, the feel of her skin making me hard. A cough from Nan breaks the spell, and I groan, the interruption a reminder that we aren’t alone.

“Later, my love,” I say, and pull away, her eyes shining.

“Soon,” she promises, her voice husky, and I grin, the anticipation driving me wild.

Nan clears her throat again, and steps forward, her eyes sharp.

“If you are going to insist on staying up, High Chieftain, then at least eat something,” she says, and passes us each a plate of food.

“Thank you,” Tasha says, and takes a bite of the meat.

“This is delicious,” she says, her eyes wide. “what is it?”

“It is the heart of a jakon beast, cooked with the herbs from our clan lands,” I say, and take a bite, the meat melting in my mouth.

Tasha slows down, and her face pales, but she continues eating, the delicious meat filling her stomach.

We eat in silence, the food warming me, and my body feeling stronger already. The fallout of the Rite means Frosthok needs leadership more than ever if my home is to recover from Garrox’s reign.

“So, what now, Droilin?” Tasha asks, her voice soft.

“Now, we prepare for the funeral ceremony for Garrox as soon as possible,” I say, my heart heavy.

Nan nods, her face grim.

Tasha sighs, and I can feel the weight settling over her. “Why must there be a funeral for such a tyrant?”

“You’re right, his cruelty left scars on many. But our ancestors demand we show respect for the dead, evil or not. It allows closure.”

I pause, stroking Tasha’s hand gently. “In a strange way, we have Garrox to thank for bringing us together. If not for his schemes, I may never have met you, my love.”

Tasha meets my gaze, understanding dawning in her eyes. She leans into me. “You’re right. As much pain as he inflicted, some good did come on its wings.” She caresses my cheek and I kiss her palm.

“The people may not mourn Garrox, but they will honor the office he held,” Nan says. “His death leaves uncertainty. We must show stability and tradition still reign.”

Tasha frowns, but nods slowly. “I understand. Forgive my ignorance of your ways.” She squeezes my hand. “We will plan an honorable funeral for your people’s sake.”

I take her hand and squeeze it gently, hoping to comfort her.

“We will hold a celebration feast, to honor the victor of the Rite,” Nan adds, her eyes meeting mine.

The words strike a chord, and I know she is right. It is hard to accept the role of Chieftain, but I will not fail my clan.

“I will ask the Chieftains to prepare the ceremonial rites. Now you are upright again. The ceremony will be held after we lay Garrox’s body to rest. Frosthok should not be without its Chieftain any longer,” Nan says, her voice firm.

I nod, knowing the ceremony will be difficult, but necessary. “I will be ready,” I say, my voice hoarse, and Nan gives me a small smile.

“Good,” she says, and turns to leave. “Now, rest, both of you. And no funny business while I head out for an hour.”

“Nan!” Tasha says, her cheeks pink, and the old healer chuckles.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she says, and winks, the gesture surprising.

“We will behave,” I promise, and Nan laughs.

“We shall see about that,” she says, and leaves the room. The old healer stands, her posture strong, and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

Tasha shakes her head and moves closer to me, her lips inches from mine.

“I can’t promise that I won’t misbehave,” she whispers, and kisses me, her lips soft and her tongue probing, her desire igniting my own.

I groan and run my fingers through her hair, the silky strands falling around us.

“Droilin,” Tasha breathes, and moves against me, her hips pressing into mine, her body aching for my touch.

I groan, and roll over, the pain from my wounds long forgotten, and pull her beneath me, her body arching, and her breasts brushing against my chest.

“Droilin, I need you,” she moans, and I growl, the sound vibrating through my chest.

I lean down and kiss her, my tongue plunging into her mouth, the taste of her making me hungry for more. She moans and grabs my tusks, her hands running along the ridges, the sensation driving me wild.

I pull back, my breathing ragged, and look down at her, her face flushed and her lips swollen, the sight making me want her even more.

“Tasha, you are perfect,” I breathe, and kiss her again, my hands roaming over her body, my fingers tracing every curve, every angle.

She moans and grinds against me, her body aching for release.

I move my hands lower, my fingers skimming her breasts, and lower, finding the hem of her shirt.

“Take it off,” she demands, her voice thick with desire, and I grin, her passion making me even harder.

I rip the fabric off her body, the sound of it tearing exciting her even more, and she arches her back, her nipples hardening.

I groan and lean down, my tongue swirling around one of the pink buds, and her breath catches, her skin hot.

“Droilin, please,” she begs, her body writhing.

I move my mouth lower, kissing her stomach, her skin burning under my lips.

“You’re mine, Tasha, all mine,” I rumble, and rip her pants off, the sound of the fabric tearing music to my ears.

“Yours,” she whimpers, and spreads her legs, her core glistening.

I growl, and lower myself between her legs, her scent intoxicating.

“You are beautiful, my Tasha,” I grunt, and lick her folds, her taste inviting more.

She cries out and grabs my tusks, her fingers digging into the ridges.

I growl, the sensation driving me wild, and continue licking her, my tongue swirling around her clit.

“Droilin, don’t stop,” she pants, her body trembling, and I obey, my tongue plunging deeper, the taste of her making me desperate for her.

“Please, I need you,” she pleads, and I can’t resist any longer.

I move above her, my cock aching, and press myself against her core, the heat radiating off her.

She moans and spreads her legs, her eyes wide.

I thrust into her, her tightness making me growl, and she gasps, her nails digging into my back.

I groan, and move deeper, the feel of her, hot and tight, driving me crazy.

“Droilin! I want all of your,” she begs, and I growl, and pound into her, her body meeting mine.

“Fuck,” I grunt, and move faster, her tightness gripping me.

I lean down and kiss her, her mouth, her lips hot, and I feel her body tighten, her release near.

“Tasha,” I rumble, and move faster, the sound of her moans sending me over the edge.

“I’m close,” she whimpers, and I move faster, her body shaking.

“Come for me,” I demand, and grab her wrists, pin her down, and fuck her harder, the sight of her body arching driving me wild.

“Yes, Droilin, yes!” she cries out, her body exploding, as I come, my release so intense it takes my breath away.

I roar and kiss her, my body shuddering.

“Droilin, oh, wow, I missed this so much,” she pants, and kisses me, her lips soft.

I laugh, and pull her close, the feel of her soft skin against mine driving me wild.

“Me too, my little human,” I murmur, and kiss the top of her head, her scent intoxicating.

She moans and curls up against me, her body spent, and I wrap my arms around her, the feeling of her in my arms comforting.

“Droilin, are you sore or anything?” she asks, her voice concerned.

“I’ve never felt better,” I reply, and smile, her concern for me making me happy.

“Good,” she says, and rests her head against my chest, her eyes fluttering closed. “Me too,” she whispers.

I pull the blanket over us, the warmth of her body relaxing me, and drift off into a peaceful night’s sleep.

The next day, we wake early and get dressed. I watch as Tasha gets ready, the sight of her, her wild dark hair falling around her face, making me want her again. She gives me a smile, her eyes sparkling.

My heart swells, and I kiss her, the feel of her lips against mine comforting.

Nan bustles about, making sure everything is ready.

We break apart, and Nan clears her throat, her eyes filled with amusement.

I know the old healer approves of our mating. She has always been an advocate for what is best for the clan.

She passes us some breakfast, the meat fresh and the herbs fragrant.

I straighten, and Tasha does the same, her face determined.

“Ready, my little human?” I ask, and take her hand. The feel of her skin against mine is comforting.

“I should be asking you that! Presiding over a funeral and being sworn in as High Chieftain.” she replies, her voice nervous.

I lean down and kiss her, the taste of her lips, like the sweetest nectar.

Nan clears her throat again, her eyes stern, and I pull away, my body still aching for Tasha.

Tasha blushes, her face turning pink.

“I can do anything with you by my side, Tasha,” I promise, and she smiles, the worry leaving her eyes.

“I know you can,” she says, and squeezes my hand, her fingers intertwining with mine.

We leave Nan’s shack, and walk through Frosthok, the air cold. The streets are quiet, the suns shining overhead.

I can hear the preparations for the funeral ceremony and celebration feast. The sound of hammering and the smell of food cooking fills the air. I can sense the hope in the air, the people ready to rebuild and move on from Garrox’s terrible reign.

“Where is everyone?” Tasha asks, her voice quiet.

“Drexan and the Chieftains have been preparing the funeral pyre at the burial site and the feast afterwards,” I say, and lead her toward the square, the crowds gathered there making my stomach tighten.

The sound of solemn chanting fills the air, and the crowd parts, making way for us. As we get closer, I see the respect and reverence on their faces, the sight warming my heart.

“High Chieftain,” they say, and bow, their voices echoing through the square past the feast preparations towards the burial site at the edge of Frosthok. This is not a role I ever wanted to have, but now that it is here, I feel a sense of purpose. I know that this is my calling, to serve the people and bring peace and stability back to the clans.

Yalrog and Keklor stride up, their eyes hard and their bodies tense. Together we walk to the burial site, the pyre high. Garrox’s body lies wrapped in furs, both his face and body are still.

The burial site is a tribute to all the lives lived and lost in Frosthok. Each marker a memory of someone here, a tale in icy stone. I can’t help but look towards my father’s plot and wonder what he would make of me now. Proud. I hope he would be proud.

The sound of drums fills the air, and I look up to see Yalrog and Keklor standing before the funeral pyre, their faces somber.

“High Chieftain, are you ready?” Keklor asks, his voice heavy.

I nod and squeeze Tasha’s hand, her fingers warm.

“Let’s do this,” I say, and lead her to the front of the crowd.

Yalrog nods, and the drums beat, the sound vibrating through my chest, and the crowd chants.

“For the clans! For Morcrest!” they shout, and raise their fists in the air.

The sight makes my heart proud, and I stand next to Yalrog, his presence strong.

“Thank you, friend,” I whisper, and he gives me a small smile.

“It is a difficult role, and you will have many challenges ahead of you, Droilin. But I know you will do the best you can. The people respect you and they are ready to follow you,” Yalrog says, his voice steady.

“I hope so, my friend. Now, let’s get this over with.”

Keklor holds a lit torch aloft, the flames flickering, and passes it to me.

The sea of faces reflects a sense of betrayal and grief. As I step forward, the weight of my new role bears down heavily. I turn back toward Tasha. Her smile is soft, her eyes radiating love and pride.

Drawing a deep breath, I walk toward the pyre. The crowd grows quiet as I approach. I raise the torch aloft, the smell of burning wood filling the air.

Sparks swirl and dance on the kindling as I lower the flame. The fire catches, spreading its glowing fingers over Garrox’s shrouded form. Bright orange tongues lick upwards, flickering in the breeze.

I step back and bow my head with the clan elders. The drums begin their slow, mournful beat. Smoke rises, bearing the ashes of our fallen chieftain skyward. His cruel reign is over, but uncertainty still looms.

“My clan, the time has come for our former leader, and High Chieftain to be laid to rest. Let us mourn the loss of a leader who did not live up to his responsibilities. Let us grieve the lives lost through his negligence, and the pain inflicted by his poor decisions. Let us find a way to heal, and move forward together. We are Morcrest, and we will rise from your ashes.”

I pause, and turn toward the pyre, the smoke rising above it, and finally throw the torch onto Garrox’s body, the flames catching instantly.

The crowd cheers, their voices ringing out, and I move back, the sound of the drums starting up.

“For the clans! For Morcrest!”

I watch as the pyre burn, Tasha moves to stand beside me, her hand in mine, and I hold her close, the warmth of her body, soothed.

“It is done,” I whisper, and kiss her forehead, the feel of her skin beneath my lips, grounding me.

Tasha nods, and I pull her closer. The sight of the burning pyre makes me feel relieved. Garrox had a long reign, and his corruption will be felt for years to come, but now it is time to heal.

We watch as the pyre burns; the fire consuming the body, and soon, there is nothing left but ash, a bad memory, and a cautionary tale.

The drums beat, and the crowd chants, their voices loud and clear, the sound reverberating through the square.

Soon the crowd head back towards the town center, and the feast, the sound of the drums and the crowd echoing through the streets.

Tasha looks at me, her eyes warm. I lean in and kiss her, the feel of her lips comforting. I pull away and take her hand in mine.

Yalrog and Keklor move towards us, their expressions solemn. Keklor places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“It is time, Droilin, for you to take your place as the leader of Frosthok and High Chieftain of Morcrest.”