Page 18 of Orc’s Little Human

KORRATH

I lean against the rough bark of a tiphe tree, my eyes fixed on the two figures crouched by the water's edge.

Thali's excited chatter drifts across the stream as she holds up shell after shell for Selene's inspection, her small hands animated as she explains the merits of each treasure.

Selene listens with the kind of patient attention I've only ever seen her give my sister, nodding seriously at whatever criteria Thali has established for their collection.

The sight does something strange to my chest—a pulling sensation that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with watching the two most important things in my world fit together so perfectly.

When did that happen? When did this human woman become important to me? When did I start thinking of her as something precious instead of just a captive?

The answer burns in my memory like a brand. Last night. When I felt her body arch against mine, when I heard my name on her lips like a prayer, when something inside me shifted so fundamentally that I can't imagine going back to who I was before.

My magic still thrums beneath my skin—not the drained, hollow feeling I usually carry after using blood-forged power, but something alive and electric. Whatever happened between us last night didn't just satisfy a physical need. It awakened something that makes my very bones sing with energy.

I shouldn't feel this alive after what I did to Jek yesterday. The amount of blood I spilled to reshape that iron should have left me weak for days. Instead, I feel like I could tear apart mountains with my bare hands. And I know exactly what caused the change.

Selene.

She's beautiful in the morning light, her copper hair catching the sun as she leans forward to examine something Thali has found.

The simple tunic she wears does nothing to hide the graceful lines of her body—lines I traced with my hands and mouth just hours ago.

Her skin is pale except for the sun-scorched freckles across her nose, and I find myself wanting to kiss every single one of them.

The hunger that rises in me is immediate and fierce. I want to stride across that stream, pull her into my arms, and claim her mouth the way I claimed her body last night. I want to hear her gasp my name again, want to feel her nails dig into my shoulders as she comes apart beneath me.

But she won't even look at me.

All morning, she's been acting like nothing happened.

Polite distance, careful words, eyes that look everywhere except directly at me.

When she woke up and slipped from my bed without a word, I told myself she was just being cautious.

Smart. We both know how dangerous this thing between us could be.

But watching her now, seeing how carefully she avoids any real interaction with me, the rational explanations start to crumble. Did last night mean nothing to her? Was it just a momentary lapse in judgment she now regrets?

The thought makes my jaw clench hard enough to crack teeth.

She's human, I remind myself. Fragile. A risk to everything you've built.

It's true. Varok is already questioning my leadership, already pushing for me to prove I haven't gone soft. Keeping a human woman as more than just a temporary plaything will only give him more ammunition. It will make the council question whether I'm still fit to lead the Blackmaw Clan.

But I can't let her go. The very idea sends something violent and possessive clawing through my chest. She's mine now—I claimed her, marked her with my scent and my touch, and the thought of anyone else having her makes me want to spill blood.

Even worse is watching how Thali looks at her.

My sister's face is bright with joy as she shows Selene each shell, seeking approval and praise with the same trust she used to reserve only for me.

She's never warmed to anyone this quickly, never let anyone into her world with such complete acceptance.

Selene has become too much to both of us. Too important. Too necessary.

And that makes her the most dangerous thing I've ever brought into our lives.

"This one!" Thali's voice carries across the water as she holds up a shell with swirling patterns of blue and white. "This one is perfect for the collection!"

Selene smiles—a real smile, not the careful mask she wears around me—and the sight hits me like a physical blow.

She's gentle with Thali, patient in a way that speaks of genuine affection rather than mere tolerance.

There's no calculation in how she responds to my sister, no hidden agenda. Just pure, honest care.

It's beautiful. It's terrifying. It's everything I never knew I wanted and everything I can't afford to keep.

I straighten from the tree, gathering the bag they've designated for the chosen treasures.

Time to head back. I've already been away from the encampment longer than I should have, and there's clan business that needs my attention.

But I'm reluctant to break this moment, to return to the harsh realities of leadership and the constant pressure to prove my strength.

Out here, it's just the three of us. No politics, no power struggles, no reminders of how impossible this situation really is.

"Come," I call out, my voice rougher than I intended. "We should return."

Thali pouts but starts gathering her final selections. Selene rises gracefully, water dripping from her fingers as she helps my sister organize their treasures. She still won't look directly at me, but I catch her stealing glances when she thinks I'm not paying attention.

Good. At least I'm not the only one affected by what happened between us.

We start back toward the longhouse, Thali chattering about where she wants to display each shell while I carry the bag of their findings.

The weight is negligible, but I find myself treasuring the small burden.

How many times have I carried weapons, supplies, the spoils of raids?

But this feels different. This feels like carrying pieces of home.

I let myself fall back slightly, using the excuse of checking our surroundings to put some distance between myself and the two of them.

Old habits from years of raids and warfare die hard—even on our own territory, I automatically scan for threats, for signs that enemies might have penetrated our defenses.

Thali's laughter echoes off the rocks as she darts ahead of Selene, clearly excited to get back and arrange her new treasures. They're maybe thirty paces ahead of me when I hear the voices.

Male. Orc. Coming from the direction of the longhouse.

My blood turns cold as I recognize the tones—mocking, cruel, predatory. I break into a run, my heart hammering against my ribs as I push through the underbrush.

I burst into a small clearing just as Jorth steps into Selene's path, his scarred face twisted into an ugly grin. Mazg flanks him, blocking any escape route back toward the stream. They haven't seen me yet—their attention is entirely focused on Selene, who has Thali pressed protectively behind her.

Fuck, the way she protects my little sister does something to me.

"Well, well," Jorth says, his voice thick with malice. "Look what we found wandering around without their master. Again."

My blood doesn't just heat—it ignites. Everything in me screams to spill their blood across the rocks, to teach them exactly why crossing me is the last mistake they'll ever make. These worthless dogs dare to threaten what's mine? Dare to put fear in my sister's eyes?

"Once was a coincidence." Mazg adds, taking a step closer. "But twice…it's like she wants us."

The rage that fills me is beyond anything I've felt since the night my parents died. It's not just anger—it's something primal and violent that turns my vision red around the edges. My hands shake with the need to tear them apart, to paint the ground with their entrails.

Mol's words echo in my mind: The men think you've lost your taste for blood.

Maybe it's time to remind them exactly why they should fear me.

"Chief Korrath doesn't share his toys," Jorth continues, apparently oblivious to his impending doom. "But maybe it's time someone reminded him that he's not the only one with needs."

I don't announce myself. I don't give warning. I simply move.

My hand closes around Jorth's throat before he even realizes I'm there, lifting him off his feet with enough force to crush his windpipe. His eyes bulge with shock and terror as he claws uselessly at my arm.

"You seem to have forgotten something," I say, my voice deadly quiet. "Let me remind you."

I draw the blade from my belt—not my ceremonial weapon, just a simple iron knife meant for practical tasks. But iron is iron, and in my hands, any blade becomes an instrument of absolute destruction.

I drag the edge across Jorth's cheek, not deep enough to kill but deep enough to leave a scar he'll carry for the rest of his worthless life. His scream echoes off the rocks as blood streams down his face.

"I am Korrath Draegon," I continue conversationally, as if I'm discussing the weather instead of carving up his flesh. "Chief of the Blackmaw Clan. Son of Vraek the Destroyer. I have spilled more blood than you've seen in your miserable existence."

Mazg tries to run. I drop Jorth like the worthless sack of meat he is and catch his companion before he makes it three steps. My fist connects with his jaw hard enough to crack bone, and he goes down hard.

"And you," I say, grabbing Mazg by his hair and hauling him to his knees, "thought you could threaten what belongs to me?"

The knife finds his face next—a shallow cut across the jaw that will heal so that a scar marks him as well. Every time he looks in a mirror, he'll remember this moment. He'll remember what happens to those who test my patience.

Both of them are staring up at me now, equal parts fear and anger on their faces as blood drips down them. Good. Fear is the only language they understand, and I've given them a lesson they won't soon forget.

"If I ever see you within fifty paces of either of them again," I say, my voice carrying the promise of death, "I will not be so merciful. I will take my time. I will make it last days. And when I'm finally done with you, I'll feed what's left to the worgs."

I straighten, wiping the blood from my blade on Jorth's shirt before sheathing it. Both orcs scramble away like the cowards they are, leaving trails of blood in their wake.

Only then do I turn to face Selene and Thali.

My sister looks a little shaken but unharmed, pressed against Selene's side with her small fists clenched. But it's Selene's expression that gives me pause. She's not looking at me with horror or fear. There's a slight edge of relief in that expression, and I feel like a bit of respect.

The violence is still singing in my veins, the satisfaction of spilled blood making my magic hum with contentment. This is who I am. This is what I do. I am not a gentle man, not someone who can be softened by a woman's touch or a child's laughter.

I am a killer. A destroyer. And I've just reminded everyone within earshot exactly why that should terrify them.

The problem is, I know I've also just handed Varok exactly the ammunition he's been looking for. He'll hear about this within the hour—how the great Chief Korrath lost his temper over threats to his human pet, how he spilled clan blood over a woman who should mean nothing to him.

But as I look at Selene and Thali, as I see them safe and unharmed, I find I don't give a damn about Varok's opinion.

Some things are worth the risk.

"Come," I say, my voice still rough with lingering rage. "We're going home."