Page 8

Chapter

Seven

ANYA

I ’m no fool. Although I’m certain that my captor does not intend any harm to come to me while I’m waiting for him on this rock, I can see the predators beginning to gather and circle. My gaze flicks warily among the small handful of males stalking toward me deliberately. They keep their movements casual as they laugh amongst themselves, but I don’t let down my guard.

With their varying hues of gray, they remind me of a pack of wolves milling together in excitement upon catching the scent of blood from weakened prey. Not one of them is as ghostly pale as my captor, however, nor are their eyes as void of light as his dark stare. While he could easily be confused for some sort of vengeful wraith, they very much appear to be flesh and blood males with their eyes bright with interest and their broad chests moving with their excited pants. I can’t say for sure which I find more comforting. A few spectators gather on the outskirts to eye me curiously. Among them I spot many females, orc and human both, and they wear mixed expressions of concern and disapproval, the latter aimed toward the males closing in around me.

A tall female pauses in passing, a frown pulling at her mouth as she peers in our direction, her gray coloring bearing a hint of marble blue that sets her apart from many other orcs besides her height. She sizes things up quickly and her brow furrows as she pushes her way forward, brushing a thick braid over her shoulder as she glares at the males.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands. “You know our laws. She arrived with Daghel. Unless he releases her to the clan, you court death by toying with her.”

Her voice rings with authority, and several of the circling males immediately step back, heads bowing in submission—all except three, and among them a male of a muddy greenish-gray coloring grins at her in challenge.

“The drehl?” The male grunts with laughter, and it is quickly picked up by his companions. “Linahna, you must be joking. Drehls do not have females. You know this as well as we do, or else you would have mated with him long ago. That he dared to take her is a punishable offense. Vorn is dealing with Daghel as we speak, and I would advise you not to interfere. As far as this female goes—she is available to whichever male skewers her on his prick first.”

Is that so? It certainly confirms a few things in my mind. I have no idea what a drehl is, but this Daghel is as distinct as I initially thought—perhaps more so given his apparent untouchable status. But if this male or any other thinks I’m just going to spread my legs and let them mount me… I don’t think so. If any skewering is done, it will only be at my whim. I may be a soiled courtesan, but my right to choose is not something I will ever surrender.

My jaw hardens as I make my move, striking low and quick. My elbow plows into his stomach with all my strength, but I’m not dismayed when it doesn’t do more than make him grunt in surprise. I didn’t believe for even a moment I could incapacitate him, but it is just the right amount of distraction and momentum needed that I’m able to pull the longer dagger from its sheath at his side and make my escape before he can stop me. His claws do manage to snag my coat, and the sound of ripping material is a reminder of just how close he came to seizing me as I dance out of the way.

The male’s snarl fades as he regards me for a long moment, only for him to throw back his head with laughter. “Clever little female. Now give me my blade,” he orders, his hand stretching out to me in silent command.

“My pleasure,” I reply in a dulcet tone that makes him smirk expectantly.

The fool. He expects a kitten. Let’s see him deal with the claws.

I whip forward, bringing the blade through the air in a quick, brutal strike. It slashes his offered hand in a deep wound that makes him howl with anger and pain. I quickly withdraw again with a cruel grin.

“How did you enjoy that?” I purr. “Would you like me to give you more?” I wave the tip of the blade near his cock concealed beneath the strange wrap-like trousers that the species, males and females alike, wear, though the females have the advantage of extra layers of skirts protecting them. My meaning is clear, however, and Linahna smirks in approval. “I will be happy to remove certain pieces of your anatomy if you even dare approach me with it.”

“It seems you won’t be skewering anyone today, Kael,” a male from the crowd loudly observes, and the orcs surrounding us, except the three with Kael, laugh.

“With how quick she is, I would wager that he won’t be skewering anything ever again if he dares getting close enough to try,” a female barked, initiating another round of laughter.

Linahna’s smile grows in response as she folds her arms over her chest. “Go home, Kael, and let Elehl fuck some of that hostility out of you. You won’t be getting any other kind of rutting today.”

Kael’s face darkens with anger and humiliation. And although I feel no sympathy for him, it does send the smallest tremor of alarm through me. Often public scorning can get bullies to back down, but in groups they are unpredictable.

His gaze flicks among the crowd, but I catch the look he exchanges with one of the orcs that has prowled closer to me. I whirl toward the male, bringing up my dagger, but I’m not fast enough to counter his charge, nor do I see the other male striking out from my left, his sword connecting with my dagger.

The blade spins from my hand with the force of the orc’s strike and I stumble back, clutching my numbed arm. Too late, I recall that Kael is behind me. I whip around to face him, but the big male is upon me, his massive fist plowing into my chest. His strike brutally brings me to my knees with a cry and shoves me back against the cart as his fingers bite into my shoulder. I can hear Linahna’s protest rising among the shouts of the crowd, but his friends and several other males have drawn into a circle around us, keeping them at bay.

Kael’s eyes are merciless slashes of fire, and my cry turns into a scream when he draws another blade and stabs it through my hand, pinning me to the cart as the tip sinks into the wood. I glare up at him as I shout and thrash helplessly against the blade keeping my hand pinned in place. All of my hatred goes ignored, however, as he slowly straightens and grins down at me triumphantly.

“Let’s see if you are still hateful once you’ve had that in you for a few hours.” He leers down at me with a cruel twist of his lips. “Unless you are ready for something else in you as well.”

I narrow my eyes at him as my mouth snaps shut with an audible click of my teeth. I am a mistress of pain. He will not conquer me with it. Holding my pain locked inside of me, my lips curl and I lift my head to meet his stare with a cold smile. His smile fades slightly and he leans down, lowering his head to mine as he drags a claw along my cheek.

“You will be a delicious fuck with all of that hate and rage,” he rumbles. “I can see it burning in those beautiful blue eyes. I would take great pleasure in skewering my prick in that tight little human cunt so that it can squeeze my shaft as you battle me. How does that sound, human?”

I grin up at him, baring my teeth in a silent threat that means nothing to the orcs surrounding me. No matter. My smile widens, and I’m aware of a stream of blood trailing down to my chin from where I bit my tongue at the sharp bite of the blade. His face drifts closer, a look of intrigue and lust on his face. I bide my time, waiting until his mouth is a breath away from mine, before I let the bloody spittle gathering in my mouth fly into his face. He jerks back with a snarl and straightens, a mass of seething muscles in front of me as he lifts a booted foot and presses it hard against the dagger slicing through my hand.

I grit my teeth against the shriek bubbling up, escaping in a sharp whine of sound as tears well up from my eyes and streak through the dirt on my face. Despite this, I glare up at the male defiantly, his laughter filling my ears. His companions are laughing too, and it is a cruel, ugly sound that mixes with the dissonance of angry shouts surrounding us. The laughter, and truthfully all sound, comes to an immediate halt as all eyes turn to some point behind the orc, driving the blade deeper into my hide. Only he is laughing. His lips peel back from his teeth, revealing the full length of his fangs and tusks, unaware of whatever threat has silenced the other males and made them withdraw from their loose circle. As Kael’s monstrous bulk fills most of my vision, I can’t even see what is causing the other orcs to retreat, though my skin prickles with awareness.

Nor do I see the blow when it comes. One minute Kael is sneering down at me, and in the next there is a spray of blood that hits my face and the male drops, his foot slipping from the blade as he hits the ground with a loud thud. I blink, my vision tinged with red from the droplets of blood clinging to my eyelashes as the wraith—Daghel—stalks toward me and stops just a few feet away, turning his head as he stares angrily at the gathered orcs.

“He is not dead—not yet,” he hisses in a sound of pure fury. “What I want to know is who gave any of you permission to touch this female? She is my capture, my female, mine !”

The nearest of Kael’s companions stumbles back, their heads dipping submissively.

“Apologies, Daghel,” one among them grunts as he looks worriedly among his companions. “We meant no disrespect. Kael sought to claim her, believing that she was unclaimed since you—” His voice falters, and he shrinks into himself further. “We were merely watching. We were curious if he could get the fierce one to submit.”

“Get him out of here before he bleeds to death,” Daghel rumbles as he steps over the prone body lying in front of him and crosses the remaining distance between us.

I stiffen at his approach, everything within me preparing to defend myself, but he does not touch me immediately. Instead, his cold black eyes fall to the knife buried in my hand. They narrow with such rage that it catches me off guard enough that I’m not prepared when he strikes, yanking the blade free from my hand. My blood flies, flecking the snowy skin of his arms and chest as it splatters on him and the stone beneath me. I hope it’s a bitch to clean off the masonry as I howl with pain and clasp my injured, bloody hand to my chest. He bends, reaching for me, but I strike out with my uninjured hand and feet in a desperate attempt to frustrate him and the other orcs into giving up and leaving me alone.

He doesn’t give up, however. He evades my kicks but takes each blow from my hand and arm without flinching as he gathers me against his blood-streaked chest and hauls me off the ground. I growl pitifully at him as I glare up at him, looking for any opening that I can take advantage of to hurt him for subjecting me to this, until the hand bracing my back drifts upward to grip the back of my neck. His grip is firm and merciless with a brutality I would be a fool to ignore, and yet I can’t help but be aware of the way my back rests against his forearm, keeping me securely and comfortably supported.

“Be still, female,” he orders in a gentle voice that makes my snarl slip from my face in surprise. “Good,” he rumbles, and I’m startled at the sound of a purr vibrating through him even as a strange warmth washes through me at his praise.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Let me go,” I snap, and a faint look of amusement briefly lightens the hard features of his face above his mask.

“You would prefer to become a meal for one of the clan? If you refuse to rut or fail to breed, it is a likely outcome.”

“A meal?” I gape in shock, my outrage momentarily forgotten as his pace picks up, carrying me across the courtyard. “You eat people?” I hiss vehemently. “It’s wrong!”

He shrugs. “Humans and orcs are not the same species. Your taboo is meaningless to us. It is just more meat for the Cold Fang Clan when it comes to an unclaimed and unmated human.”

Fuck or be eaten. Not great choices, but above all, I’m a survivor. And this high in the mountains, I know that I’m not getting down on my own, especially when it would be ridiculously easy for a wyvern to pluck me off the mountainside.

“Fine. But I’m not eating anyone. Don’t even think of feeding a human to me.” I growl the words at him, but he ignores me and turns toward an intimidating male standing just a short distance away.

Linahna gives this male a hard look before glancing back at us worriedly as she departs with the crowd. I hate to see a potential ally in this mess leave, and the other male makes me nervous as he stalks toward Daghel, the surrounding air charged with menace.

“Are you finished here?” he growls, casting an impatient look at me. “Vorn has instructed me to show you to your new rookery attached to the palace. You may summon your wyvern once you have settled there. All the same rules apply, however,” he adds gruffly, and Daghel dips his head very slightly as he turns to follow him.

My captor says nothing more but stares flatly ahead as he carries me through a stone doorway, and we are suddenly plunged into a torchlit darkness. Despite the low light, I can make out the orc stalking ahead of us, and the smooth rhythm of Daghel’s steps doesn’t break for even a moment as he follows the male down the corridor. A distant sound of laughter trickles up the passage, growing louder and louder until we enter directly into a court with a massive enthroned orc surrounded by female orcs and human women.

I stare at them, aghast at the women fawning over the enormous male. Do they dine on human flesh with the orcs? Are they even aware of what they feed upon? It makes me nauseated as the women pluck little bits of meat offered to them from his fingertips with soft little moans of gratitude.

“Prince Vorn,” Daghel rumbles, startling close to my ear. The heat of his breath stirs something deep within me that makes me tremble in spite of myself. “Stay away from him when you are not with me. He does eat humans when not fucking them.”

“Do you?” I shoot back as I attempt to ignore the ice seeping into my belly, warring with the strange heat that my proximity to him seems to stir within me.

A deep, dark chuckle rumbles from his broad chest, and I feel it echo through me, triggering tiny tremors that I fight to ignore. “On occasion. But human flesh is unsatisfying. Too fatty.”

My brows knit together, and I feel a familiar sting to my pride, but I can’t put a finger on exactly if I should be offended or not. I thought we were speaking of literally eating human flesh, but now I’m not so sure. I feel a strange desire to defend my desirability, but I clamp my teeth together hard before any words have the chance to spill out.

I am not getting trapped in whatever game this male is playing.