Chapter 7
“Oguk?” he repeated, as if testing the lie between his teeth. I could almost hear the gears grinding inside his head.
Even though my heart was fluttering like a trapped bird and a cold sweat trickled down the valley of my breasts, I held my ground. Lies only work when they are told as truths that no one would dare to question.
“Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “From Oguk.”
He leaned closer, bracing his arms on the wooden table where I was bound. The sudden closeness made my heart leap, his forest scent growing stronger. His face hovered just inches from mine, our breaths nearly mingling in the cramped space.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, my eyes locked on his. Up close, I noticed his pupils widen, bleeding into the darkness of his irises.
“Ork ‘o Oguk krun Gnar’kem mashker[3],” he said. The language barrier was beginning to wear on my nerves. I really should have learned more than just bad words from Leone. Then again, at the time, I had no way of knowing I’d be cursed and end up in Oksha of all places.
I blinked slowly and, summoning every ounce of my acting talent, forced tears to well in my eyes.
“Please,” I begged, my voice as pathetic as I could conjure.
“I-I… my clan was attacked. That’s why I came here.
” My tearful tone seemed to startle the orc.
He pulled back abruptly and muttered something too low for me to catch.
As tears spilled down my cheeks, I sniffed to sell the act. “I-I’m alone. Please.”
He studied me with those shark-like eyes. For a terrifying moment, I feared my performance hadn’t convinced him. To my relief, he huffed and grabbed a knife that looked far too small for his massive hands, slicing cleanly through the restraints on my arms.
My limbs throbbed from being held in place so long, but I didn’t complain.
I pushed myself upright on the table, never taking my eyes off the orc before me as he watched me with the wary focus one reserves for a wild animal that might lunge for his throat at any moment.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—back in Ceilte, they were the ones branded as wild.
I cleared my throat and glanced down—only to let out a shriek. My breasts were completely exposed. The fabric of my dress had been torn away so the healer could tend to my wounds, and I hadn’t even noticed.
I crossed my arms over my chest on instinct. “Pervert!” I snarled, my face burning with a heat that had nothing to do with the hearth.
The orc tilted his head, a look of bewilderment crossing his features. “Pervert?” he repeated. “What’s the meaning of this?”
I nearly choked on my indignation as I scrambled off the table, backing away until I hit the opposite wall.
My wounds pressed against the cool wood, yet I refused to take my eyes off him.
“Don’t play the fool!” I snapped, tightening my arms over my chest as heat rushed to my face. “You saw me naked and said nothing!”
He furrowed his brow, not with guilt or embarrassment at being caught, but genuine confusion. “You were wounded,” he replied, his tone calm, like it was something as simple and unquestionable as the sun rising in the east.
“I know!” I snapped, my voice teetering between hysteria and outrage. “But you could have warned me that my breasts were out!”
He stared at me as if I’d just claimed the moon was made of cheese, like I was the strange one in this situation, not him, and his lack of shame.
“They’re just arkem,” he replied with a shrug.
“Just what?!” I screeched.
To my absolute mortification, he raised his hands—those enormous, wide, calloused hands—and positioned them in front of his own chest, cupping them the way one might hold two round objects.
“Arkem,” he repeated slowly.
I wanted to die right then and there. Bury me face down, because I no longer possessed the dignity required to look anyone in the eye.
“They’re just breasts?” I couldn’t believe this. “Is that what you mean?!”
He blinked slowly. “Yes. Just breasts. Everyone has them.”
Never in my nearly one hundred and fifty years of life had someone dismissed my body with such cold indifference. Fine, I wasn't the most well-endowed female in the world, but I had round and perfectly sized breasts. I had received many compliments before, and not just from High Fae.
This orc clearly wouldn't know a good pair if they hit him in the face.
I imagined, with a certain amount of disdain, that orc females must not have much variety to show if this was how he reacted.
At least, if he felt no attraction to me, he wouldn't try anything. That, I had to admit, was a relief.
I drew a deep breath to steady my nerves and, lifting my chin, said, “I need clothes. Something to cover my… arkem.”
He remained still for a moment, considering. Then he turned and walked to a low cupboard made of dark wood. Inside, stacked neatly, lay roll upon roll of beige fabric. He took one, folded it, and handed it to me.
“Here. Wear this.”
I sighed but took the bandage. I would have preferred a gown or even a tunic, but I couldn't afford to be picky. “Could you give me a moment of privacy?” I asked, noticing he had no intention of leaving. Once again, he looked at me like I had sprouted a second head. “To dress.”
“Why?”
Was this orc simple-minded or just thick? I huffed, fury bubbling up again. “Because I don't know you and I’m not changing in front of you!”
“Changing… clothes,” he repeated slowly, confirming the meaning of the words. “And you don’t want me to see.”
“Yes!” I barked, tossing my hands in the air. “Finally!”
The orc crossed his massive arms over his chest, tilting his head. “Why does it matter?”
I nearly pulled my hair out. “Because it’s intimate!” I said, trying to keep my voice down and failing miserably. “It’s… It’s private! It’s my business.”
He blinked again and let out a low sound that resembled a thoughtful grunt. “But I’ve already seen your breasts.”
“I know!” I nearly screamed. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to keep looking!”
Silence fell. He seemed to weigh my argument, and after a moment, he nodded. But instead of leaving the hut as I expected, he simply turned his back on me.
“There,” he murmured. “Change.”
My mouth hung open. I could hardly believe the level of sheer obtuseness this male possessed.
Did he truly think simply turning around was enough for me to feel comfortable?
I debated arguing further, but I was far too exhausted.
Keeping one eye glued to his back, I took the bandage and, after a few clumsy attempts, fashioned it into a sort of halter top.
A good portion of my midriff and arms remained bare, but at least my modesty was intact.
My other problem was the remains of my dress, now little more than a filthy rag.
The bandage wasn’t nearly enough to cover anything else.
Using my claws, I tore the fabric apart until I could knot it into a short, frayed skirt, then secured it with another bandage tied around my waist like a belt.
It wasn’t the height of fashion, but it would do until I found something better.
“Fine,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence. “I’m dressed.”
When he turned, his eyes traveled over the makeshift skirt and top. “It was better before.”
My cheeks heated, but I decided to ignore him.“Great. Now…” I took a step forward, summoning what was left of my dignity. “I’d like to know your name.”
He looked at me with that inscrutable gaze again. “I’m Malek ‘o Melk’or, the Ruk’hai of the Oksha clan.”
Malek Strong-Axe.
Ruk’hai. Leader.
My blood turned to ice. I was standing face-to-face with the leader of the Oksha. The most infamous orc in all of Lyraen—a male known for being utterly ruthless to his enemies. I was in the hands of Ceilte’s number-one enemy. Merith’s curse had delivered me directly to him.
I would have laughed if it weren't so tragic.