Page 11

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Kargorr

W hen she had said the words aloud, when she had admitted how much she wanted him, his sarga had rioted. As he had fallen into her warm depths, they had begged to sink into her, too. How they would please her. How they would ensure she stayed round and full of his orclings forever.

Kargorr shook his head angrily, and once again naked, he stalked to Orgha’s tent. Orgha and his yapira were inside eating, but Kargorr’s right hand jumped to his feet when his very bare leader thundered inside.

“Clothes,” Kargorr said, and Orgha quickly complied, giving the larger orc some of his own. “We’re working tonight.”

Orgha sighed. “I’m bringing my soup,” he groused, and his yapira, Rathka, gave a sad wave as Kargorr dragged him from his tent.

Kargorr knew he shouldn’t be punishing Orgha for his own discomfort, but he needed to divert his mind, which meant work .

They stayed up late into the night, planning which sledges would carry which tents, how many of the mammoths they would need, whether they would have to build new sledges for the additional weight they had accrued during the parog ’s stay in this area. The sky was lightening when Orgha finally collapsed and gave Kargorr a firm look.

“Are you avoiding your concubine already?” Orgha asked, much too forwardly, but Kargorr let it slide, believing that his exhaustion was getting the better of him.

Lord Kargorr snorted derisively. “I’m merely concerned about moving. There’s a lot to be done.”

Orgha yawned and rose to his feet. “You’ve only had the dog for a short time,” he said. “It’s too soon to get attached. Never would still be too soon, in my opinion.”

And with that, he left the tent, and Kargorr thought perhaps he should have his right hand punished for such brazen impertinence.

Finally, realizing he had no excuses left, Lord Kargorr made his way back to his tent. Inside the fire had burned low, so he kicked the ashes and added new logs to bring it back to life. The early hours of the morning were always the coldest, before the sun came up to warm the world again.

He could just make out Cedar’s head of brown hair, mussed around the pillow. When he climbed into the bed, he lay on his back, keeping his arms at his sides. Perhaps Orgha was right, and he was getting too attached to her already. It had been merely a few days since he snatched her from her village. He would have another concubine soon, the moment he was able to find one, and then he’d spread his attentions among them.

Cedar let out a small, soft sound, and without opening her eyes, she curled closer toward him. In her sleep, she was drawn to him, the way any baby animal might seek out its mother’s warmth. That’s all it was, he thought, as he instinctively wrapped around her, bringing her small legs between his, looping his arm around her back.

Still she didn’t wake, and Kargorr’s sarga throbbed inside the breeches he’d borrowed from Orgha.

He had planned to rut her until she was tied to him, too attached to him to leave, but now he wondered if he had made a mistake in thinking that connection would only go one way.

Cedar

Everyone was packing, preparing for a big move tomorrow. It looked like the orcs were planning to fully uproot.

Still, Lord Kargorr wouldn’t let her leave his tent. Her body felt sluggish from not getting exercise, besides that which he gave her in bed. At least he returned frequently, often a few times during the day, seemingly only to fuck her. The other day he had sat up in the furs and insisted she sit astride him, and Cedar was humiliated to find herself eagerly rising and falling on top of him, one of his huge hands curled under her ass to lift her, the other kneading her breast and teasing the nipple. As she got closer to her edge, he leaned forward to suckle on them.

“These will feed my orcling well,” he murmured, sinking her down on his cock again.

She couldn’t forget that’s what she was—a breeding mare to give him children. That was why he took her over and over, often waiting after he had released inside her to hold up her hips and spoon his spend back into her.

This should have frightened her more than it did, but at the same time, she’d never been fed so well in her life. She had chicken and beef, sheep and goat. There was cream and butter and bread, carrots and potatoes, and some other foods that tasted delicious but that she couldn’t place in her memory. The morning they were set to leave, Kargorr gave her thick cuts of cooked bacon, and she feared it was Bread Pudding.

“Don’t worry.” He tore off a piece for himself and slipped it between his lips, chewing thoughtfully. “Your pig does not have this much fat on her.”

Cedar was speechless as he left to go do whatever it was that he went off and did.

Later that day, an orc she didn’t recognize came inside. Without looking at her, or even greeting her, he began packing all of Lord Kargorr’s things. He started on the left side of the room, gathering up whatever lay out on the small table and the lid of his trunk. It was all stuffed into leather bags, and even the table was disassembled while he stayed silent.

He didn’t look like the other orcs. He was shorter by half a head and much more slender, without that hulking mass that Lord Kargorr carried with him. This orc’s features were finer, with a longer, more pointed nose and a less brutish jaw. His tusks were smaller, too, curling only to the base of his cheeks.

Cedar puzzled over this as he worked. Then the thought occurred to her: he looked almost human .

Her stomach tightened. Is that what he was? Part human and part orc? It was as if someone had poured ice water over her as she watched him laboring, his powerful muscles moving under his shirt. Still he wouldn’t turn his gaze on her, even as she stared.

Is this what Kargorr was after? More half-breeds?

She’d been watching so long she nearly forgot what he was doing. Her eyes darted to the wall as he began taking down the weapons hung there.

It hadn’t seemed that many of the orcs spoke her tongue, but perhaps if he was half-human, he would.

“Don’t touch those,” she said, and the half-orc froze. “He won’t like that.”

At last, he turned to look at her, but then his eyes fell to the floor.

“What’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me? Or talk to me?” She was tired of this, of Kargorr being her only interaction with the outside world.

“He does not allow it,” he finally said, stepping away from the weapons. He had no accent when he spoke in her tongue—it was clearly native to him. So he had been raised by a human.

“Kargorr won’t let you talk to me?” Cedar stiffened. “Why not?”

The half-orc shook his head, then pressed his lips closed like he was determined to keep them that way. Instead, he turned his attention to all of Lord Kargorr’s sets of armor where they hung, and began packing them, along with the racks they were on. He carried it all out the door and deposited it on a massive wooden sledge.

Cedar didn’t have much time. She would have to replace the dagger on the wall, or Kargorr would surely find it when he took them all down.

While the half-orc was gone, she dove for the furs to retrieve the blade from underneath them. It took some time for her to locate it, and when she pulled it out, the flap of the tent opened. She tucked the dagger behind her back, her breath sticking in her throat, hoping the half-orc wouldn’t see that she had it. He’d certainly tell Kargorr, and then what would he do to her?

She could barely breathe as the visitor shook out the rugs and rolled them up, hefting them over his shoulder. And then, the worst thing possible happened.

Lord Kargorr returned.

Cedar clamped her hand tight around the dagger’s hilt, keeping the flat of the blade against her back. She couldn’t attack him here, not with someone else around. Kargorr snapped some harsh words in his tongue, and the half-orc quickly fled the tent, leaving them alone.

Kargorr walked to his wall of weapons, one of the only objects now remaining in the hut besides the bed. He looked over his axes, and she knew any moment now he’d discover the missing dagger.

When she didn’t move or speak, Kargorr arched an eyebrow and looked at her from the corner of his eye. The blade of the dagger was cool against her skin.

“Are you anxious, little deer?” he asked, turning away from the weapons. “About leaving tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “No. Why would I be? This isn’t my home.”

He chuckled at her easy answer. He seemed less stiff now than he had been the last few days. And when his lip curled, it wasn’t cruel, but amused.

“That’s good, then.” He patted the blade of his axe before turning to her. She let out a sigh of relief that he was no longer looking at the wall where the dagger should be. “We’ve made all the preparations, and it will be a smooth journey.”

He sat down on the bed next to her with a heavy, but relieved, sigh.

“In the morning, we’ll take out the furs and stow the bed. But until then...” He leaned toward her, and his smell filled Cedar’s nose. It instantly triggered a response, her body stiffening, a languid warmth trailing down from her breasts into her hips. She’d already grown so accustomed to that smell, sleeping in his furs, his sweat dripping onto her as he thrust inside her, that it made her skin feel alive.

She shifted away so she could keep her front toward him and her back hidden. The curl fell off his mouth. He cocked his head.

“What is it, little deer?” His eyes landed on her arm, the way it was clasped behind her back, and a stone fell in her stomach. “What do you have hidden there?”

Cedar was left with no choice. Slowly, she withdrew the dagger and carefully held it by the blade as she extended it toward him. It was probably the first time she had seen Kargorr react to something with surprise—which gave way to anger. His breaths came fast and heavy as his glare darted to the dagger in her hand again.

He snatched it by the hilt and examined it slowly, still not speaking. Cedar retreated from him, her arms and legs ready to move should she need to. She wondered what sort of beating she would receive for this. He had promised her lashings for disobedience, and this was certainly a disobedience of the worst kind.

And then his anger faded, too, giving way to something else. Disappointment.

“I’m glad no one else is here,” Lord Kargorr said at last, raising those black eyes up to hers. “Or else I would have to have you whipped. In front of the entire parog .”

She clenched her shoulders tight to protect herself. She thought about running and wondered how far she could get. She had been hit before by many different people over the years, but never whipped.

“Tomorrow,” he said in a low voice, running his hands over the smooth hilt of the dagger, “we will pretend this never happened. Won’t we, little deer?”

Her eyes flew up to his. Was he going to let her get away with this? With plotting his death?

“Yes,” she said, without thinking. “Let’s forget it. Please.”

But Kargorr shook his head. “I won’t forget. I will never forget.” He held up the hilt of the dagger to his lips and licked it. “And I will make sure that you don’t, either.”