Mated to the Orc General

Chapter 3

His quarters looked different without the duty to escape coloring everything.

Vorak led me to a chair and knelt to examine my bloody fingers. This close, I could see flecks of gold in his copper eyes.

"Unnecessary damage," he said, pulling out medical supplies.

"I had to try."

"I know. You would have disappointed me if you hadn't.

"This was a test?"

"Everything here is a test. For both of us." He began cleaning cuts. Each touch was precise. "Can you hold a cup?"

I flexed my bandaged hands. "Yes."

He poured from a flask an amber liquid that smelled of smoke. "Orcish spirits. Helps with pain."

I took a sip and coughed. Fire.

"Slowly," he advised, lips twitching.

"You could have warned me."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Another sip, smaller. This time the burn spread warmth through my chest. "Tell me about the someone."

"What?"

"You said I reminded you of someone. Who?"

His expression shuttered. "My sister. Vera. Younger by ten years."

"Where is she?"

"Dead. Five winters ago." He took the flask and drank deep. "She tried to escape her arranged marriage. The male she was promised to caught her at the border. Brought her back. The marriage proceeded, but he... punished her for the attempt."

"He killed her?"

"Not directly. She died bearing his child. Too weak from months of misery to survive." His hands clenched. "I found out after. Too late."

"I'm sorry."

"She would have liked you. Your defiance. Your refusal to accept what others decided."

"But you're still going to marry me."

"Yes."

"Even knowing I don't want it?"

"Do you not?" His gaze was direct. "Or do you not want to want it?"

The question hung between us. He was right. There was heat here I didn't want to examine. I didn’t want to think about how my body responded to him, and his attention to my injuries made my chest ache.

"The bed is yours tonight," he said, changing the subject. "You need rest."

"Where will you sleep?"

"I won't. Too much to prepare."

"The ceremony can't be that complicated."

"It's not the ceremony I'm preparing for."

Right. The claiming. The wedding night where he'd promised to take me completely.

"You're frightened," he observed.

"Should I be?"

"Yes. But not for the reasons you think." He moved closer. "I won't hurt you, Kaela. But I will change you. After tomorrow, you'll never be the same."

"Because you'll have claimed me?"

"Because you'll have claimed me too."

I stood, swaying from spirits and exhaustion. He steadied me, hands on my waist.

"Sleep," he said. "Real sleep. You're safe here."

"Am I?"

"From everything but me."

"And from you?"

He tucked hair behind my ear, fingers lingering. "That depends on what you consider dangerous."

I should have moved away. Instead, I leaned into his touch. "Everything about you is dangerous."

"Good. Then you understand." His thumb traced my jaw. "The bed, Kaela. Sleep."

"What if I'm not tired?"

"You're exhausted. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

He was right. But I didn't want to be alone in that massive bed, wondering what tomorrow would bring. "Stay. Just... stay in the room."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because I want you." Words were rough, raw. "Every time I look at you, I want. And tonight, I need to maintain control."

"What if I don't want you controlled?"

He groaned. "Don't. Don't offer what you'll regret."

"I am not one for regrets." I reached up, touched his face. His skin was warm, rougher than human skin but not unpleasant. "Maybe I need to know. Before tomorrow. Maybe I need to choose this, at least once."

"Kaela—"

I kissed him.

For a moment, he went still. Then his control shattered. His arms came around me, crushing me against him as he took over the kiss. His tusks pressed against my cheeks. Not painful, just foreign. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming, tasting. He kissed like he was starving and I was sustenance.

When we broke apart, we were both panting.

"That was—"

"Not enough," I said, then kissed him again.

This time he didn't hesitate. He pushed me against the wall, hands roaming my body through my clothes. When he found my breasts, thumbs brushing over already hard nipples, I moaned into his mouth.

"Need to stop," he said against my lips, but his hands didn't stop. One slid down to cup between my legs through my pants, and I was so wet I knew he could feel it through fabric.

"Don't stop," I gasped, grinding against his palm.

He groaned and pressed harder, rubbing in circles that made me see stars. "You're soaked."

"Your fault."

"Good." He found a rhythm that had me climbing fast. "Want to feel you come. Just like this. Fully clothed. Then you'll sleep."

"Vorak—"

"Come for me, Kaela. Let me feel it."

His command, combined with the pressure of his hand, sent me over. I came, gasping his name, grateful for the wall holding me up.

He held me through it, then slowly removed his hand. I could see the wet spot on his palm even through my pants.

"You need—" I reached for his obvious erection, but he caught my wrist.

"No. Not tonight. Tomorrow, after the ceremony. When it's right."

"Nothing about this is right. We're making the best of bad circumstances."

"No." He pressed his forehead to mine. "This is the first right thing in my life. Even if the path here was wrong."

He stepped back, fighting for control. His cock strained against his pants, and I smelled his arousal mixing with mine in the air.

"Sleep. Please. Before I forget my good intentions."

This time I obeyed, but not before brushing against him as I turned away. His sharp intake of breath was satisfying.

I climbed into the massive bed. The furs were soft, warm. They smelled like him: leather and male and safety I didn't want to acknowledge.

"Vorak?"

"Mm?"

"Tomorrow, after the ceremony. Will you... will you be gentle? At least at first?"

"I'll be whatever you need me to be." He moved to the chair by the window, settling in to keep watch. "At first."

"And after?"

"After, I'll be myself. And you'll be mine."

The promise in those words should have terrified me. Instead, warmth pooled low in my belly.

I fell asleep with the memory of him behind my eyelids, this complicated orc who could make me come with just his hand through my clothes. Morning couldn't come fast enough.

Iwoke to sunlight and voices.

Three female orcs stood in the doorway, carrying clothes and various items. The tallest, gray-haired but strong, looked me over, eyes narrowed.

"Time to prepare," she said. "I'm Akara. You fight us, we hold you down. You cooperate, this goes easy."

"Where's Vorak?"

"Thin, but expected. Good hips, though. You might survive the claiming after all."

"Everyone seems concerned about my survival."

"The general is... intense. Especially during claiming." She gestured to the others. "The claiming night will be long."

"How long?"

"Until dawn. Maybe longer. He has years of need stored up."

One of the younger orcs giggled. "Remember the merchant's daughter who tried to warm his bed?"

"She ran after an hour," the other replied. "Said he was insatiable."

"That was just casual bedding," Akara added. "A claiming is more. Much more."

My stomach fluttered—nerves and arousal mixed.

They had me strip and step into a copper tub they'd brought. The water was hot, scented with herbs that made my skin tingle. Akara washed my hair herself, fingers firm against my scalp.

"You have scars," she noted, tracing whip marks on my back.

"Occupational hazard."

"These are punishment marks. Your own people."

"Failed mission when I was sixteen. They wanted to ensure I didn't fail again."

"And did you?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

She hummed. "General Vorak will be angry when he sees these."

"Why?"

"He's possessive. Past marks from others... he won't like it."

They dried me, oiled my skin until it gleamed. The oil had an immediate effect that made every breeze send tingles over my skin.

"What is this?"

"Preparation oil. Makes everything more... intense." Akara smirked. "You'll thank us later."

"Occupational hazard."

The younger orc held up the ceremonial dress, if you could call it that. Scraps of black silk that barely qualified as clothing. The top was essentially two triangles connected by strings. The skirt was slits of fabric that revealed everything when I moved. I was more naked than clothed.

"I can't wear this."

"You will." They dressed me, then Akara began painting symbols on my exposed skin with a substance that smelled of herbs and magic. "These help."

"Help what?"

"Your body adjust to his. Orcs are... larger. In every way." She painted a symbol just above my sex. "This one means fertile. Even if you can't breed yet, his body won't know. He'll try. Many times."

Heat flooded my face.

"Magic makes things possible," Akara continued, painting symbols down my arms. "And the general’s bloodline is strong. There have been half-orcs before."

"That's impossible—"

"Rare. Not impossible." She painted another symbol on my lower back, right above my ass. "This one means receptive. It will help your body accommodate him."

"Accommodate?" one of the younger orcs said with a grin. "Did you see his bulge when he looks at her? That's what needs accommodating."

They all laughed at my expression.

"Has he been with many?" I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.

"A few attempts over the years. The last was over a year ago. She was a visiting dignitary's daughter. None stayed past a night." Akara finished the last symbol between my breasts. "He's particular."

"Particular how?"

"Needs control. Complete control. But also needs a partner strong enough to handle it. To push back." She looked at me. "You might be the one."

"Why?"

"Because you tried to escape. Because when he looks at you, the dead parts of him seem to wake up."

"Plus," the younger orc added with a wink, "you smell like you've already been with him."

My face burned. "We didn't—"

"Not fully. But he touched you. We can smell his scent on you. And yours on him." Akara smiled. "Good. It means you're compatible. She paused in her painting, studying me with serious eyes. "During the rut, you must remember something important."

"What?"

"Don't fight it. Submit completely and your body adapts.

The more you resist, the more violent he becomes.

The more you surrender, the more his protective instincts surface.

" She painted the last symbol between my breasts.

"It's not weakness to yield. It's survival. Maybe even pleasure, if you let it be."

"Submit. Not my strong suit."

"For him, you might surprise yourself." A knowing smile. "The ones who survive best are those who want it as much as their mate needs it. The rut can awaken something primal in human women too, if they allow it."

I thought on that as the younger orc lady held up a veil. "For the ceremony."

It was sheer, hiding nothing. They arranged it over my hair, the edge falling just past my eyes. When I looked in the mirror they provided, I didn't recognize myself. I looked like a sacrifice.

Or a bride about to be thoroughly claimed.

"Come," Akara said. "Time."

The walk to the ceremonial platform was both eternal and too quick. Every orc we passed stared. Some with hunger, some with envy, all with curiosity. The silk moved against my skin with each step, the oil making every sensation intensified—even the air felt like a caress.

We emerged onto an open platform ringed with torches as the sun set. The crowd parted.

And there was Vorak.

He wore leather pants that hung indecently low and an open vest that displayed his magnificent chest. Every muscle was defined, scarred, and perfect.

His skin displayed darker, more permanent tattoos that matched mine.

His eyes found mine, and raw hunger blazed in them.

When his gaze dropped to my barely covered body, his hands clenched into fists.

Then he saw my back. Even from where I stood, I could see his expression darken at the whip scars.

King Gromar stood beside him with a ceremonial blade. "Come, little bride. Time to seal your fate."

I walked forward on unsteady legs. Vorak's gaze traveled over me, taking in every exposed inch. When I reached him, he caught my hand.

"You're shaking," he said.

"Cold." A lie. I was burning.

"Soon you'll be warm. Very warm." His thumb stroked my palm. "I'll make sure of it."

The king raised the blade. "Blood to bind!"

He cut Vorak's palm first. Green blood welled. Then mine. The blade was so sharp I hardly felt its sting.

"Join hands."

Vorak took my bleeding hand. The moment our blood mixed, fire shot through me. Not just heat—magic. Primal. My body recognized him as mine.

"Speak your intentions, general."

Vorak's eyes never left mine. "I claim this woman as my mate. I will protect her with my strength, provide for her with my hands, and satisfy her with my body until she begs for mercy. She is mine from this moment until death."

The crowd roared approval. My knees went weak.

"And you, little human?"

I swallowed. This was it. The moment of choice.

I thought of Mark, sending me to die. Of the kingdom that had whipped me. Of the cell waiting if I refused.

Then I thought of Vorak, tending my wounds. Offering me his bed. Making me come against a wall. Admitting his loneliness.

"I accept this orc as my mate," I said, my voice carrying. "I will stand beside him, challenge him, and teach him there's more to life than war and solitude."

Surprise flickered across his face. Then heat.

"Seal it!" King Gromar commanded.

Vorak pulled me against him, one hand in my hair, the other on bare skin where my top didn't cover. His mouth crashed down on mine.

This kiss was different from last night. This was possession. Promise. Barely leashed hunger. His tongue swept in, claiming. His tusks pressed against my cheeks. One hand slid down to cup my ass through the silk, grinding me against the obvious ridge of his erection.

I moaned into his mouth, fingernails digging into his chest. He growled in response, deepening the kiss until my knees gave out.

He caught me, lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and the crowd cheered louder.

When he pulled back, we were both panting.

"Mine," he growled for everyone to hear. Then quieter, just for me: "Ready or not."

He threw me over his shoulder and strode from the platform as the crowd called out crude suggestions for our wedding night.

His hand on my ass as he carried me wasn't just possessive. His fingers had slipped under the silk, touching bare skin. Each step made his fingers slide against me, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

We were both about to get exactly what we wanted.

The true test was if I could bear it or if it would break me.