Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Torvolk
There’s only so many times I could brush down the horses or shovel their shite or polish their tack. The Keeper didn’t want my help with his duties, and I didn’t want to go back into his home.
With Isadora. And that bed so near.
I shuddered, remembering the way the faint scent of her arousal had flitted through the air once or twice when I’d been near to her. She shouldn’t be interested in someone like me, not after the day she’d had…but I couldn’t deny I wanted her.
Wanted her badly.
And that scent had told me I could have her, if I wanted.
I could push her down on that bed and plunge into her, claiming her the way my Kteer demanded. I could lick her until she screamed my name in pleasure, until I made her forget any other male who’d looked her way.
But I was a Ranger, one who hunted on behalf of the clan. I had a cottage in the village, but ‘twas rarely used. My life had no place for a female.
So? Fook her a few times, drop her off in the village, and be done with her. Ye’re no’ committing to Mate with her, for shite’s sake .
That was my Kteer’s desires, not mine.
Just had to remember that…
But I confess, when the Keeper had guessed Isadora was my Mate, likely from the way she was curled up on my lap holding me, something deep inside had preened at that. Something more than just my primitive Kteer .
Something deeper.
Focus on finding the chief. Kragorn’s yer cousin, ye dobber. Nan will never forgive ye if ye dinnae find him. Ye owe the clan that much .
Aye, I did.
And she was a distraction.
So, I focused on the horses and the milking cow and the small flock of chickens the Keeper had obviously culled for the winter and kept in the barn which attached to the back of his cottage. And I avoided hooves, and tried not to step on birds, and forgot about Isadora.
Mostly.
But as the sun lightened the eastern sky, I stretched with a small groan and wondered if mayhap these hours might have been better spent asleep.
No’ the first time ye’ve gone a night without sleep. ‘Twill no’ be the last .
I hitched my cloak around my shoulders, my fingers lingering on the clasp. My chest tightened at the memory of the way she’d hurried to drape it around me.
Master, you should not be cold if I can help it , she’d said as she’d…cared for my comfort.
There was no other way to twist that, was there? She’d given me the cloak so I wouldn’t freeze. She’d cared for my comfort.
I told myself not to put too much weight on that. She likely only did it because she didn’t want me to freeze to death. She knew if I died, she’d have to stay here with the Keeper, and her reaction to that possibility told me she very much wanted to go to the village.
With me.
Nay, not with me! Me didn’t matter in this! She just wanted to be around other females—I’d seen the way she interacted with that whore at the tavern! She wanted to go to the village instead of staying here and I was her best option for that!
Aye. Aye, that was it.
I stomped toward the door to the cottage, muscles tightening against the cold, drawing my brows together, dragging my mouth down into a scowl.
I took a deep breath and held it, focusing on the way the icy air burned my lungs. When I could hold it no longer, I exhaled then pushed my way into the cozy home.
I’d never traveled with a female before. I suppose, if you asked me what I would expect, I would answer delays and concessions. But Isadora was waiting for me, her eyes glazed with sleep and a mark on her cheek from the furs on the bed.
She was adorable.
I wanted to gather her to me, to brush her jagged locks behind her ear, to warm her.
I didn’t, obviously, because I’m not an idiot.
The Keeper smirked from a safe distance behind Isadora. My eyes narrowed and I felt my upper lip curl.
“Are ye ready?” I growled. Isadora nodded and stood, wincing when she put weight on her ankle. I needed to get her to the village so Myra could examine her.
Right. That should be my mission. Just focus on the next few hours.
But after I lifted her up onto the horse’s back and swung up behind her, I couldn’t help the way my arms tightened around her.
The Keeper—who had bravely followed us outdoors—patted the animal’s neck.
“She’ll get ye to Bloodfire village by noon. Ye certain ye dinnae mind leaving the other animal here?”
I nodded, my mind drawn to the beasts. “Thank ye for keeping him. I’ll send more feed.”
Stepping back, he flicked his fingers dismissively. “I’ll be fine, I have plenty of food for the animals and myself…and I’ll enjoy having someone to talk to.”
“Ye dinnae have to worry until the horse starts talking back to ye,” I deadpanned, and saw his lips twitch before he turned away.
“Go,” he commanded. “Leave me to my solitude.”
And I obliged.
But I soon learned that riding with a female in my lap was vastly different when she was awake. Last night, Isadora had curled around me, her mouth pressed to my chest as she slept. This morning, however, after her wee hours nap, she was awake, peering around at the landscape, shifting her weight…
There’s only so many times I can remind my cock not to get involved before it sits up and makes itself known…and Isadora was fast approaching that point, as often as she brushed that sweet arse across my crotch.
I eventually spread my palm across her thigh to keep her still, and I heard her suck in a breath. Unable to help myself, I moved my thumb slightly closer to the apex of her thighs, just to see what would happen.
That faint, sweet scent of her arousal teased my nose and tongue.
Apparently, I was a glutton for punishment, tormenting myself this way.
I felt her relax once more, her shoulders pressed against me trustingly. My arms were wrapped around her, my cloak covering both of us. Having her plastered against my chest and my cock was keeping me very warm indeed.
The horse carefully picked its way along a scree-covered slope, and suddenly Isadora leaned forward, her breath frosting the air in front of her as she breathed a surprised, “Oh!”
“What is it?” I grumbled, pulling her back against me more to warm my chest than anything else, I told myself.
“Those trees.” She pointed to the rowan. “I recognize them. And the lumps beneath the snow, are those heather?”
“Aye,” I grunted. “Our world has the same plants and animals as yers.”
“Why?” She twisted just enough to peer up at me. “Why are they not completely different?”
I shrugged, fighting to keep from glancing down at her. I could feel her gaze on my skin and knew if I gave into the temptation, the damn horse might send us over a cliff before I’d notice.
“Who kens why the gods work the way they do?” I asked. “But our worlds are mirrored—even the geography. My people dinnae farm as extensively as ye do, because there are far fewer of us, so the landscape hasnae been changed as much.”
She settled back against me. “Why are there fewer orcs than humans?”
“Because we dinnae breed the way ye do.” I felt her stiffen at such a coarse topic. “Kits can only be born to Mated pairs, and no’ everyone is lucky enough to find their Mate in this lifetime. The humans can breed with any female, willing or no’.”
I felt her tip forward and knew she was going to wrap her arms around her middle before she did it. She was clearly thinking about last night.
“That man in the tavern. John the Tanner, Verna called him…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He wanted to use me that way. To breed bairns.”
I tried to keep my tone nonchalant, tried to hide the sudden rage. “He wanted to fook ye. If he got ye with bairn, he wouldnae care.” The thought of creating a kitling so casually, without a connection to its mother…the thought was abhorrent to an orc, especially a male. But humans had no such qualms.
“He was only interested in his own pleasure.”
In thrusting his cock into her warm cunny, again and again, spilling inside her, feeling her soft body under his… I shouldn’t be aroused by the thought, but my Kteer rarely listened to reason.
“He would not have cared about my wants,” she stated.
“Or yer pleasure,” I agreed.
Instinctively, I tightened my hold on her, drawing her back against my chest. My Kteer wanted to keep her here. Forever.
“My mistress…” she began with a deep shuddering breath.
“The unpleasant one?” I prompted. “Who beat ye?”
‘Twas strange to me the humans considered us monsters when they would so causally create a child and then beat it.
“When I began to…become a woman, she…” She hunched her shoulders. “She accused me of seducing her husband. I was just a girl.”
I swallowed my anger.
“But my breasts…grew larger than expected. I learned to hide them, and my hair. I did not want her husband—the smith’s—attentions. I hoped one of the village lads might offer for me, but I guess they agreed…”
When she trailed off, I frowned. “Agreed with what?”
“Mistress Smith used to call me a whore. To anyone who would listen. She would accuse me of tempting her husband and warn her friends to protect their sons and husbands from me. But I was not like that! Once I tried it, and…”
I knew what she meant, but something prompted me to ask, “ It? ”
“Sex,” she whispered. “I think, since I was already condemned for being a whore, I wanted to try it.”
I didn’t groan out loud, but ‘twas close. I could picture her; her hair down, pressed against a wall, those magnificent tits bared as a male tasted her—tasted them . The sounds she’d make, the expression of bliss on her face.
She said she’d no’ enjoyed it.
I realized the male I was picturing with her had green skin and dark hair.
Fook .
She was no whore. But she was mine. She was seated on my lap now. How easy would it be to reach up, to pull that bodice down and release those tits to the winter air? I could imagine how the nipples would pebble in the cold, how she’d moan as I squeezed and fondled. She’d want me to touch her.
I could do that. I wanted to do that.
I fooking wasn’t going to do that.
Focus on yer mission. Get her to the village and leave her with Nan.
Isadora clearly wasn’t thinking such things, because she continued. “Yesterday morning, Mistress Smith announced she was done with me. I suspect her husband refused to come to her bed and she blamed me.”
I forced myself to focus. She was sharing her story with me, and I was curious.
“She sold ye?”
Isadora exhaled softly. I glanced down. I could only see the top of her head—and I was grateful I wasn’t snared by those sky-blue eyes.
Her breath puffed in front of her face.
“She sold me,” she agreed quietly. “Said if I was going to whore, she might as well earn some money from me. She told the bandits I was a virgin, though.”
“Why?”
A moment’s pause, then she shrugged. “At the time, I thought mayhap ‘twas to protect me from their lust. But I think ‘tis more likely she thought a virgin would earn more payment, although she thought me a slut. But she sold me…” Her voice caught on what sounded suspiciously like a sob. “For half a silver.”
The bandit paid half a silver for this beautiful, fierce young female. He struck her, bloodied her, then sold her for half a gold piece to Alred to whore out.
I closed my eyes on a silent prayer of thanksgiving I had been there.
Wait .
I was pleased I’d saved her? I was pleased I’d endangered my mission by announcing myself to a tavern full of humans, of fighting them? I was pleased I’d spent my clan’s gold on this female?
Aye.
Aye, I was.
Because if I hadn’t, she would’ve been lost.
Now, at least, she’d live a peaceful life in Bloodfire village with the other females until she accepted a male’s claim.
And I tried to ignore the anger the thought of another male touching what should be mine made me feel.
In my arms, the tiny female sniffed, and I realized I was trying to see her face. Was she crying? The noise she’d made had sounded like a sob, but she hadn’t cried since that bastard had cut off her hair.
“What’s wrong?” I barked, torn between horror and pity that she might be crying again.
“I was not a slave,” she whispered. One palm swiped across her eyes, and her tone turned angry. “I was not hers to sell. Aye, I had never received a wage from Mistress Smith, but I was not a slave. She sold me like I was her property, and now…”
Now she was.
My Kteer growled, but I couldn’t understand if this hot feeling in my chest was rage or shame or a fierce sort of joy.
But then I ceased trying to determine it—ceased even breathing—because Isadora’s small hand landed on my wrist. I dropped my gaze to where her pale slender fingers wrapped around my green skin.
“Thank you, Torvolk,” she whispered. “Thank you for buying me. Those men…” She shuddered, her hold on me tightening. “They called me a sex slave. They wanted a whore. They wanted to plow my belly until they got me with child. If I am to be a slave…”
She trailed off, and I continued to hold my breath, half-dreading, half-hoping what she would say.
Finally, she continued. “If I am to be a slave, I am grateful to be yours .”
Oh, blessed Malla.
Oh, gods below.
Oh, fooooook .
My throat closed off and I couldn’t seem to draw breath or make a sound.
She was grateful to be mine?
Nay, she’s grateful to be yer slave.
There’s a difference?
Is there? Because I’ll admit, all I was hearing was the mine part.
That’s because ye’re thinking with yer cock. Ye’re stronger than yer Kteer , aye? So rein the damned thing in and focus on finding yer chief!
I was finally able to suck in a breath, but in the next moment, Isadora leaned forward again with a surprised, “Oh!”
She lifted the hand which had been holding my wrist—and I hated how bereft that made me feel—and pointed. “I see smoke ahead.”
“The village,” I rasped, my voice betraying my inner battle. “Bloodfire Village.”
She twisted to look up at me. “Home?”
By Palton’s Spear, how could she look so hopeful? Her eyes glittered with something I thought might be excitement, and her skin gleamed despite the midday clouds. Her lips were still bruised and broken, but the swelling had gone down.
I very much wanted to taste them. To taste her . To claim her.
Instead, I switched my attention to the distant smoke.
“Aye,” I managed. “’Twill be yer home for as long as ye wish it.”
But not mine.
I told myself I should be grateful she spent the rest of the ride in a sort of interested silence, peering about and straining in my lap to see farther ahead of us. But the truth is, I missed her voice, her touch.
Even if the topic was difficult, I missed hearing her thoughts.
By Malla the Beginner, ye’ve kenned the lass for less than a day!
Eventually, the horse reached the edge of the great loch and the village came into view. The boats were pulled up past the flood line, each covered in a blanket of snow, and the garden paths were swept carefully clear. Smoke drifted from the chimneys of each cottage but mine, and neighbors called cheerful greetings to one another.
Taking a deep breath, I tucked Isadora against my chest and lifted the reins.
Here we go.
Even knowing what was coming, I rode directly toward Nan’s home. Friends and neighbors I hadn’t seen in months called out welcomes and I responded awkwardly. Their friendship and cheer always made me feel thus—like I wasn’t quite a part of the village.
But I wanted to be.
I heard Isadora suck in a breath, felt her shrink back against me, and I glanced down. She twisted her head to stare at a figure. Who…? Oh, ‘twas Hanna, Girstig’s Mate, and she was huge with child. Good for them. The future of the clan was always something to celebrate.
Avaleen—my brother’s Mate—waved cheerfully when she saw me, her other hand cradling her own bulging stomach. She turned to hurry toward her cottage—I suppose I should expect a visit from my twin soon—and Isadora actually leaned around me to watch her go.
“Your people keep so many slaves?” she murmured.
“What?” I twisted as well, wondering who she spoke of.
“So many of these women are human.” She straightened and I could see how pale she was as she tipped her head sideways. “That one was pregnant. Did her master plow her belly until he got her with a bastard?” Her voice caught. “The way those men threatened to do to me?”
“Nay,” I growled. “These women are honored?—”
“You cannot honor a slave , Master,” she snapped, twisting to glare up at me.
And despite the anger in her tone, my lips twitched.
Mayhap because of the anger in her tone.
This wee lass, who called me master …her heart was strong and her will was fierce.
Allowing the horse to find its way, I lifted my hand to her cheek, feeling her too-cold skin beneath my touch.
“They are Mates, lass.” I tucked one of her hacked strands of hair behind her ear. “Honored Mates. That was Avaleen, the Mate of my twin brother, and she carries my niece or nephew with pride.”
Her mouth had opened as soon as I touched her, but now she’d frozen, those eyes—the color of my sky on a summer’s day—staring at me in confusion.
Orcs didn’t keep slaves, and I would tell her that as soon as I could focus on my tongue, and not on how she was looking at me.
“Torvolk?”
Damn. The horse had stopped in front of Nan’s cottage and the door slammed open, accompanied by that pleased shout.
“Torvolk, my lad, I was praying ye’d return today!” Nan called, hobbling toward me.
I sighed, pretending I disliked being fussed over, and nodded.
“Hello Nan.”
“And who is this?” My grandmother, tiny and wizened, stopped by the horse’s head to peer up with us, shading her pale face with her hand. “Oh, praise all the gods ye’ve ever wanted, Torvolk, have ye finally brought yer Mate home?”
Mate?
Now my expression slid into its more habitual scowl.
“She’s no’ my Mate, Nan.” I could feel Isadora’s shock as she stared, and realized I would have to introduce them.
“This is my grandmother, lass. Nan, I bought her at an auction last night. ‘Tis up to ye to make her feel comfortable, aye?”
I cannae say who was more surprised, the lass in my arms or my grandmother. So, with another sigh, I locked my legs, tipped to one side, and deposited Isadora on the ground. And I tried not to crow with pride when she pressed against my booted calf, shying away from the little old lady who was staring at her wide-eyed.
“Lass,” I growled. “My grandmother will settle ye. I must go find Vartok and report.”
Her eyes were wide, her hand on my foot. “Master,” she whispered. “Your grandmother…is human?”