11. Rakk
RAKK
The Stone Fang delegation arrives with all the ceremony Dad insisted upon. Drums pound a welcome rhythm. Warriors line up in formal ranks. I stand beside Dad at the front, wearing ceremonial leather and a smile that feels carved from stone.
The Stone Fang Chieftain is a massive male named Groth, his tusks decorated with silver rings.
His daughter walks beside him—Kira, if I remember correctly.
She's tall for an orc female, built strong with dark green skin and elaborate braids woven through her black hair. Pretty by any objective standard.
I feel absolutely nothing looking at her.
"Rakk," Dad murmurs under his breath. "Smile like you mean it."
I widen my grin to something more genuine-looking while everything inside me screams to bolt. To find Serah by the river and disappear into that safe bubble where nothing else matters.
"Chieftain Thorne." Groth clasps Dad's forearm in greeting. "Your hospitality honors us."
"The honor is ours. May I present my son, Rakk."
I step forward, going through the motions of formal greeting. Kira offers her hand. I take it, keeping the contact brief and impersonal. Her fingers linger against mine a fraction too long.
"Your father speaks highly of you," she says, voice pitched low and inviting.
"He exaggerates." I pull my hand back. "Welcome to Bone Warrior territory."
The formalities drag on forever. Groth and Dad discuss politics and territorial boundaries while I'm expected to make conversation with Kira.
She touches my arm frequently—casual little contacts that set my teeth on edge.
Nothing improper, nothing I can object to without seeming rude.
Just constant reminders that she's here for evaluation, that I'm meant to consider her as a potential mate.
All I can think about is Serah. Whether she's working in the healing chambers or by the river. Whether she's thinking about me the way I'm thinking about her—constantly, obsessively, like she's the only solid thing in a world that won't stop spinning.
"—the northern territories?"
I blink, realizing Kira asked me something. "Sorry, what?"
Her smile dims slightly. "I asked about the northern territories. Your patrols."
"Oh. Right." I force myself to focus. "We rotate border watches. Dark elf activity has increased lately, so we've doubled our presence."
She nods, clearly trying to find common ground. She's not unkind or unpleasant. Just wrong. Not Serah.
The realization hits me with uncomfortable clarity: no one will ever be Serah. No amount of political advantage or clan alliances will change that fundamental truth.
I'm so fucked.
Dad insists I escort Kira through the settlement, showing her our training grounds and explaining our defensive positions. She asks intelligent questions, demonstrates genuine interest in combat strategy. Under different circumstances, I might actually enjoy the conversation.
Instead, I'm scanning every passing face for brown hair and amber eyes.
We're near the healing chambers when I finally spot her.
Serah is walking with Lola toward the festival grounds, wearing a clean tunic that actually fits her properly.
Her hair is braided back from her face, and she's laughing at something Lola said—that rare, unguarded smile that makes my chest tight.
I stop mid-sentence, whatever I was saying to Kira evaporating.
Serah's gaze catches mine across the compound.
Something passes between us—recognition, longing, connection.
Then her eyes slide to Kira standing beside me, to Kira's hand resting possessively on my forearm, and her expression shutters.
The smile vanishes. She looks away, continuing her conversation with Lola like I don't exist.
That hurts more than it should.
"—your friend?"
I force my attention back to Kira. "What?"
"The human woman. Is she your friend?"
The question carries layers I'm not equipped to navigate. "Something like that."
Kira's expression turns speculative. "She's very pretty. Is she mated?"
My jaw tightens. "No."
"Interesting. My father mentioned your clan values human females for breeding purposes. She looks healthy enough."
The clinical assessment makes my hands curl into fists. Serah isn't livestock to be evaluated for breeding potential. She's—
She's everything. And I have no claim to protect her with.
"Excuse me," I manage. "I need to check on something."
I leave Kira standing there, probably confused and offended, but I can't bring myself to care. I need to talk to Serah. Need to explain—what? That I'm being paraded around like prize breeding stock while the only person I actually want is slipping through my fingers?
I find her near the festival preparations, helping arrange supplies. Lola sees me coming and makes herself scarce with a knowing look.
"Serah."
She doesn't turn around. "Rakk."
"Can we talk?"
"I'm busy." Her tone is carefully neutral. "Shouldn't you be entertaining your guest?"
Jealousy. She's jealous. The realization shouldn't make me feel this surge of possessive satisfaction, but it does.
"Kira is Dad's political maneuvering, not my choice."
"Right." She finally turns to face me, and the careful blankness in her expression cuts deep. "Look, I get it. You're the Chieftain's son. You have responsibilities. You need to mate someone appropriate, make alliances, do whatever important orc stuff is expected. I'm not—I don't expect—"
"Expect what?"
She swallows hard. "This has been fun. Really. But I understand it's temporary. I'm not stupid enough to think a human slave could ever be—" She stops herself. "I value our friendship. I don't want things to be weird."
Friendship. The word lands like a physical blow. Is that what she thinks this is? Just friendship and convenient sex?
Before I can respond, Kira appears at my elbow. She wraps her hand around my bicep, pressing close in a way that's definitely possessive. "There you are! Your father wants us to join him for the opening ceremonies."
She doesn't acknowledge Serah's existence. Just claims my attention like she has every right to it.
Serah's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. Then that blank mask slides back into place. "I should get back to work. Enjoy your evening."
She walks away before I can find words to stop her.
I watch her disappear into the gathering crowd, everything inside me screaming to follow.
To grab her and demand she tell me the truth—that she feels this thing between us as intensely as I do.
That it matters beyond friendship and temporary pleasure.
But Kira's hand is on my arm, Dad is gesturing impatiently from across the plaza, and duty wraps around my throat like a noose.
The festival is a blur of noise and obligation.
I sit through the formal feast with Kira beside me, Dad on my other side radiating satisfaction.
She keeps touching me—nothing inappropriate in public, but constant little contacts that stake claim.
A hand on my shoulder. Fingers brushing mine when passing food.
Her thigh pressing against mine under the table.
I scan the crowd obsessively, searching for Serah. I finally spot her near the edge of the gathering with some of the younger clan members. She's not eating, just nursing a cup of something and looking profoundly uncomfortable.
Several warriors hover nearby. I recognize Gornak and his crew—younger males who've been rising through the ranks. They're looking at Serah with open speculation, passing comments between them that I can't hear but can easily imagine.
My magic stirs restlessly. The constant proximity to Kira is wearing on my control—I keep catching flashes of her emotions bleeding through. Determination. Attraction. Calculation. She wants this alliance. Wants me. The intensity of it grates against my already frayed nerves.
"—quite impressive, don't you think?"
I realize Groth asked me something. "Absolutely," I say, having no idea what I'm agreeing to.
Dad shoots me a warning look. I paste on my best charming smile and try to focus on the conversation. Try to ignore Serah's presence burning into my awareness like a brand. Try to pretend this is fine, that I'm not slowly suffocating under the weight of everyone's expectations.
The feast drags into evening. Music starts—drums and horns creating rhythms meant for dancing. Kira rises, offering her hand with an expectant smile. "Dance with me?"
I glance at Dad. He nods encouragingly.
Fuck.
I let Kira pull me into the dancing. She's skilled, moving with warrior's grace, pressing close enough that her intentions are unmistakable. Around us, other couples spin and sway. I catch glimpses of Kaelen dancing with Lola, both of them wrapped up in each other completely.
That could be me and Serah. Should be me and Serah.
Instead, I'm here with a woman I don't want, playing a role I never auditioned for.
Kira's hand slides up my chest. "You're very tense."
"Just tired." The lie comes easily now.
"We could go somewhere more private?" Her meaning is clear. "Get to know each other better?"
Every instinct screams rejection. My magic recoils at the thought of touching her intimately, of opening myself up to that level of emotional connection with anyone but—
I spot Serah again. She's moved closer to the fire, standing with Lola. But those warriors are still circling, drawn by her presence like predators scenting vulnerability.
Gornak says something that makes his companions laugh. Then he's approaching Serah, offering his hand.
She shakes her head, stepping back.
He persists, moving closer.
"—listening to me?"
Kira's irritated tone pulls my attention back. "Sorry, what?"
"I asked if you wanted to—" She follows my gaze and her expression hardens. "The human again. You're distracted by the human."
"I'm just making sure she's okay."
"Why? She's not your responsibility." Kira's voice carries an edge now. "Unless there's something between you?"
"No," I lie, and the word tastes like ash. "Nothing like that."
Kira studies my face for a long moment. Then she deliberately presses closer, rising on her toes to whisper in my ear. "Good. Because I don't share, Rakk. If we're going to mate, you need to be clear about where your loyalties lie."
The presumption in her tone, the casual claiming of my future—it snaps something inside me. But before I can respond, shouting erupts from near the fire.
I turn to see Gornak with his hand wrapped around Serah's upper arm, pulling her toward him. She's trying to twist free, but his grip is iron. The other warriors laugh like this is entertainment.
"Come on, human," Gornak slurs, clearly drunk. "Just one dance. Unless you're too good for—"
"Let go of me." Serah's voice is sharp with panic.
Everything inside me goes cold and deadly.
I'm moving before conscious thought forms. The crowd parts as I cross the distance in long strides. My magic surges to the surface, riding the edge of my fury.
"Get your fucking hand off her." My voice comes out low and dangerous.
Gornak blinks up at me, swaying slightly. "Was just asking her to dance, Rakk. No harm in—"
"Remove. Your. Hand."
Something in my tone must penetrate his drunken haze. He releases Serah, stepping back with both hands raised. "Alright, alright. No need to get territorial."
But the damage is done. The entire canyon is watching now. Dad stares from across the plaza, expression thunderous. Kira stands frozen mid-dance, confusion and anger warring on her face. Serah looks at me with wide eyes, trembling slightly.
And I hear them—the whispers rippling through the crowd. Speculation about why I'm defending a human so aggressively. Comments about Serah's unmated status, her breeding potential, how strange it is that she's remained unclaimed this long.
"She should be taken," someone mutters. "Claimed properly before she causes problems."
"Several warriors have expressed interest—"
"Won't be long now before someone stakes a claim—"
The words hammer into me with sickening clarity. This isn't going away. Every day I've delayed, every night I've stolen with Serah in secret, I've left her exposed. Vulnerable. Fair game for any warrior who decides her unclaimed status is an invitation.
I convinced myself we had time. That I could figure out how to navigate Dad's expectations and my own desires without forcing a decision. That eventually the right path would reveal itself.
Instead, I've created a situation where Serah's autonomy—her very safety—hangs by a thread.
And now, standing in front of the entire clan with Serah's terrified gaze locked on mine, I understand what needs to happen. What I should have done weeks ago.
The realization doesn't make this easier. It just makes it inevitable.
I turn to face the gathered clan, pulling Serah against my side. She tries to step away but I hold firm, my arm wrapping around her waist possessively.
"Serah is mine," I announce, voice carrying across the sudden silence. "I'm already breeding her, and I will not share her with anyone else." I turn to look across the canyon. "We will mate, and no one else will touch her."
The canyon erupts.
Gasps. Shocked exclamations. Kira's cry of outrage.
I honestly didn't expect this since Kaelen and Lola have been together. But he is not the future Chieftain.
My father just raises a brow at me, probably annoyed I did this to another clan but content I've made a choice, no less.
But Serah—
Serah looks at me like I've driven a knife between her ribs. Like I've betrayed her in the most fundamental way possible. Her face drains of color. Her whole body goes rigid against mine.
"What are you doing?" she whispers, voice raw with horror.
"Protecting you." Even as I say it, I know how wrong this is. How violated she must feel having her privacy stripped away, having intimate details of our relationship broadcast like property claims. "Serah, I had to—"
"Don't." She wrenches free of my grip, stumbling back. "Don't you dare."
The hurt and betrayal in her expression will haunt me. This wasn't how I wanted to claim her. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go. I wanted to ask her properly, to give her the choice, to make her understand what she means to me before binding our lives together.
Instead, I've made her into a spectacle. Reduced what we have to crude declarations of breeding and possession.
But around us, the message is clear. Every warrior who was circling now backs away. The speculation dies. Because I've staked my claim publicly, and my status as the Chieftain's son makes that claim nearly unassailable.
Serah is safe.
And she's never looked at me with such devastating betrayal.