Chapter 20
Lix’tuk
Maybe allowing Clover to touch me isn’t as defiling as I wanted to believe.
Her scent clings stronger than blackroot coffee and grog. I know because I’ve had both, and she still lingers on my breath and in my beard. Salt baked into her essence by blistering summers in a barren landscape I created two hundred years ago. Sweetness that doesn’t taste sour at all.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my mouth.
I’ve been alone in this old fortress for too long.
My sharp edges have been dulled. Maybe it’s just sinking in that these really are my final days.
I’ve got a legacy any orc would be proud of, but now I’m thinking about what happens after I’m gone.
I believed things would remain peaceful and orcs wouldn’t go to war over something as foolish as a throne.
I could just let it happen. Sit idly by until my final days become final hours. Listen to the drums of war while I’m taking my last few breaths. But that’s not what I want. I don’t want Uzrirgard to descend into chaos because orcs can’t differentiate prophecy from reality.
I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this problem, but I will.
I just need to let it fester for a while.
Let it ferment in the back of my mind until I find a solution.
Luckily, I’ve got something to distract me from worrying about my kingdom.
A little human girl named Clover. And it won’t be long until I get to taste her again.
I’ve ruled this kingdom long enough to deserve an indulgence, even if it’s one I never thought I would enjoy. I’ve always preferred to keep all humans a whip’s length away from me unless they’re under my axe or my boot.
But this one is different. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s because this one is mine.
The humans discarded her after they got what they wanted.
Gold coins. That’s the only thing they see value in.
Fine. If they don’t want her, I’ll keep her.
I won’t send her away. I won’t lock her in my dungeon.
I won’t even shove her in a wing where I don’t have to look at her. I’ll keep her with me.
If she needs to feel useful, I’ll ensure she does. She’ll have my cock in her hand every night. Right after I’ve feasted on her juicy pussy. It’s not an arrangement I asked for, but it’s one I can live with in my final days.
After the cleaners are gone, I step out into the hallway. They were here most of the day, invading my fortress with buckets, feathers, and the kind of chatter that makes me consider outlawing voices. Usually, I just ignore them. Today, I had to remind them of their place.
I missed lunch, so I’m hungry. As I walk down the hallway, I smell dinner. I didn’t even have to tell her it was time.
I step into the kitchen and see Clover standing by the Reviver with a smile on her face. The sight tightens my stomach, and not all of my hunger is for the food.
“I see you’ve figured out when dinner time is,” I tease, walking to the fridge for a bottle of grog.
“You usually eat around now, right?” she asks, verifying her internal clock. “And you missed lunch.”
I pause with the fridge open. “You noticed that?”
“I made myself something earlier,” she adds quickly, like she thinks I’m about to reprimand her. “After everyone left the kitchen. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Good,” I grunt, grabbing the bottle. “You don’t need permission to eat.”
“Okay. Thank you,” she replies, and her smile gets a little wider.
I hate that I notice the difference. Hate that I like seeing her smile. Human smiles used to irritate me because I always felt like they were plotting behind them. Hers seems genuine. Just another ray of sunshine shining through all the bleakness.
Once we’re seated and eating, I also notice how settled she is. Like this haunted fortress is some sort of home. She’s getting comfortable here. Finding her place. Even if Zrogmul doesn’t offer the best accommodations, I’m sure they’re better than what she’s used to.
“I’m sorry I lied earlier,” she says quietly, cutting her meat with the knife that still looks comical in her small hand.
I glance at her over my grog. “You already apologized.”
“I know. I just…” She looks down at her plate, pushing a piece of vegetable around with her fork. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”
“You are weak,” I say bluntly. Her face falls, and something twists in my chest. Annoying. Inconvenient. “Physically,” I add. “Compared to orcs. Compared to most things in this world that could hurt you. That isn’t the problem.”
She looks up, cautious. “Then what is?”
“Nobody taught you how to be strong.” I take a drink of grog, giving myself a moment to hate how true that sounds. “They taught you how to endure. How to duck your head. How to survive. That isn’t the same thing as strength.”
“Are you going to teach me how to be strong?” she inquires innocently.
I almost laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because I can already see it. Clover learning to stand straighter. Clover looking some sneering orc woman in the eyes. Clover realizing the fortress doesn’t get to swallow her unless I allow it.
“I don’t think I have to,” I answer.
“Why not?” she asks, her brow furrowing.
“Because you already figured out how to use your weakness to your advantage,” I explain.
“I did?” She sips her water, giving me a curious look.
“You ran into my throne room because it was the safest place in Zrogmul.” I tear into my meat, then point my knife at her. “That was smart. You told me enough of the truth to make me act. That was smarter.”
“I lied first,” she sighs, taking a bite of her meat.
“Yes. Don’t do that again,” I growl, leveling my dark gaze at her. “I mean that. I need to be able to trust you, and I can’t trust you if you don’t tell me the truth. Always.”
“I won’t lie again,” she whispers.
I study her face. The softness of it. The way she still looks at me like I’m something that might hurt her and something that already saved her at the same time.
“Strength is useful,” I say. “But it can make fools arrogant. Weakness makes clever creatures pay attention.”
She blinks at me. “So… weakness can be better than strength?”
“Sometimes, if you know what to do with it.”
Her gaze drops to her plate, but I catch the small smile before she hides it.
“Then maybe I’m not completely hopeless,” she says.
“No,” I agree. “Not completely. You survived humans before you met me. That counts for something.”
We continue our conversation until I’m done with my meal. I finish what is left of my grog and stand up, glancing over at her.
“I’ll be waiting for you in my bedchamber,” I growl, walking out of the dining hall.
I’m not angry at Clover for lying. It was a defense mechanism.
She knows orcs don’t respect weakness, so she’s scared to admit when she needs help.
But I’ve been around long enough to understand the difference between weakness and cowardice.
Usually, they go hand in hand, but not with her. She’s not like other humans.
I strip down to my loincloth and take a seat on the foot of the bed. My dick hardens in anticipation.
I don’t necessarily enjoy punishing Clover. Not when she’s truly afraid. But punishment doesn’t have to be cruelty. When it makes her so wet and squirmy I have trouble making her stop before it’s too late. Before I lose control and spill my seed like an untried boy.
After my wife died, I convinced myself I could live the rest of my days without a woman by my side.
Starve my needs. The suffering felt like my penance, for failing her the way I did.
I let my heart turn to stone. Let my bed grow frigid.
I didn’t even realize how cold it was until I felt Clover’s warmth.
But there are lines that can’t be crossed. Reasons that make it impossible. We can touch. I can even taste her. Going further than that is too dangerous.
The door opens and the most beautiful sight in Zrogmul walks into my bedchamber.
Clover is wearing a blue gown that hugs her tighter than it should.
I’m sure Lady Frax’mo made sure everything is form fitting.
She wants my gift to be so enticing I can’t resist it.
She’s come closer to accomplishing that than she’ll ever realize, but it isn’t because of Clover’s attire.
I’m drawn to something deeper than her beauty.
“Strip,” I order, my dick twitching against my loincloth. “I want you naked like you always are when I have to punish you.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” she says, a nervous look in her eyes before she casts them to the floor. She seems to be getting more comfortable with my nudity. More comfortable with me. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.
I watch closely, enjoying the sight as her gorgeous body is revealed.
I’m not sure what it is about humans that makes them so pleasing to us.
They don’t have the natural beauty of an orc woman.
They’re too small. They don’t even look good with scars.
But despite that, Clover could be the most appealing sight I’ve had in front of me in two hundred years.
A light growl forms in my throat when her panties hit the floor. She’s already aroused. Wet enough for me to catch her sweet, tangy scent. It mingles with what’s been on my breath and beard since I woke up and my cock swells even bigger beneath my loincloth.
Once she’s naked, Clover walks over to me, head bowed, hands by her side. She stands by my feet like she’s waiting for me to pull her across my lap.
“Bring me the leather belt hanging on the inside of the closet door,” I command, pointing to it.
“You’re not going to use your hand?” she asks, eyes widening with fear.
“Not for lying,” I growl.
“Yes, King Lix’tuk,” she whispers, a shudder sending goosebumps across her skin.