Chapter 7
Valka reached the ledge outside his cave and set Delia on her feet. He half-lifted his hand and gestured toward the shadowed cave entrance she could see in the distance. “Go!” he snapped, when she made no effort to move forward.
She looked toward the entrance again, then at Valka. “Is there anyone else in there?”
Valka shook his head and reached out, pushing her in the direction of his cave.
Stumbling forward, Delia shot him a defiant look while struggling to keep her mouth shut. The best thing she could do was to take her own advice. She already had one male angry with her, she did not need to make this one angry, too. Straightening her spine, holding her head high, she regally moved toward the cave.
Valka followed, admiring her courage. She looked the part of a brave female, and even acted the part. Whether it was all for show or not didn’t matter. She was convincing enough to make others believe it. Even he wasn’t sure if she was that courageous, or just playing the part.
She walked steadily until she’d entered the cave, then her steps slowed as she looked around herself. The cave walls were high, the cave itself spacious. In the center of the cave, near the entrance was a grouping of three short logs, placed together to make an awkward circle of sorts. In the middle of the circle were ashes and bits of wood charred black from fire. Some distance back from the fire circle was a stacked pile of furs set back against a cave wall. A selection of weapons was arranged leaning against the same wall, ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Across the opposite side of the cave were openings carved into the wall, slightly rounded rather than rectangular, they resembled storage hutches of a sort. They were filled with things Delia couldn’t quite identify from where she stood. Several of the hutches seemed to hold furs, and others held what looked like canvas bags, or cloths, wrapped around something else stored inside them.
As she stood there taking it all in, Valka pushed past her and gestured to the fire pit. “Sit,” he ordered.
She watched him as he strode toward the spaces cut into the wall and dug around in first one, then another. He came back to her and stopped halfway across the cave from her. He raised his eyebrow, looked at her, looked at the fire pit, making a point of the fact he ordered her to sit and she did not.
“I don’t want to sit,” she said conversationally.
His brows gathered over his eyes as his full lips flattened as he forced them together around his tusks. Suddenly he opened his mouth and raised his voice. “Sit!” he bellowed.
Delia’s body jumped in response to his shouted order, but then she hurried to sit. She didn’t know which log he wanted her to sit on, so she chose the smoothest. The one that he obviously used the most.
“Arm,” Valka insisted, dropping all the items he held on the ground at her feet as he loomed over her, leaning close to her face.
Delia cradled it closer to her chest. “No, it hurts.”
“Arm!” Valka insisted.
Still Delia resisted.
Valka reached out and grabbed her arm, and starting at the shoulder gently encircled her arm with his fingers, moving slowly toward her wrist as he carefully felt for any breaks or swells. Just above her wrist he hesitated and slowly moved back up a couple of inches before continuing his examination closer to her hand. She whimpered, though to her credit, she tried to keep it as quiet as possible as he repeated the examination several times before nodding to himself. He leaned so close to her arm she thought that he might lick her before she realized he was checking the gash the metal plate had sliced into her when it had broken the lock holding the chains on her.
He plopped down in front of her on the ground and completely ignored her as he held her hand just below her wrist in one hand, and felt his way up and down her arm again with the other, then seeming to have made up his mind, he nodded firmly to himself only once before he tightened his grip on her hand and her arm just above her wrist and yanked while slightly twisting.
Delia screamed in pain, nearly passing out as she slid off the log she’d been sitting on, gasping for breath through her tears as slowly but surely, the searing pain subsided.
“Stop,” she begged, her voice raspy as she tried to pull her arm free of his hold again.
“No,” he replied, as his fingers wandered her arm and wrist, gently pressing into her skin, paying particular attention to the wrist itself.
“It hurts so bad,” she said, trying to pull away from him again.
“Fixed,” he said, letting go of her arm and starting to dig through the items he’d brought with him from his storage spaces in the wall of his cave.
“What?” she asked, raising her eyes from examining her wrist herself, to look at Valka.
He was busy looking through a small supply of cloth strips, and obviously had no intention of answering her, if he’d even heard her. “Ah!” he said, finding what he was looking for and shaking it out as he held it high above his head. “Arm,” he said, holding out his hand for her to place her arm in his care again.
“No! You hurt me! Bad Valka!” she said, as though admonishing a child.
Valka’s brows came down over his eyes again and she thought for a moment she’d made a mistake in calling him bad, but then suddenly he grinned, then laughed boisterously, thoroughly enjoying his mirth at her comment. When finally he was able to get himself under control again, he simply reached out and snatched her arm away from where she was cradling it against her chest again.
“Still,” he ordered, holding her arm with one hand and digging through the cloth strips piled on the ground between them with the other. Scowling he got up and stomped over to the storage spaces again, dug through several more, then came back holding a rough hewn stone bottle with a corked top sealing it. He sat on the ground before her and uncorked the bottle. Upending the bottle he shook some of its contents out into his hand before recorking it and letting it fall to the cave floor beside him. He opened his hands and seemed to count the leaves that had fallen out of the bottle and into his hand.
He looked up at Delia, then at the leaves in his hand. “Delia little,” he murmured, as he removed two of the small leaves from his palm, replacing them in the bottle, then popped the leaves into his mouth and chewed them up five or six times before spitting them in his hand and glaring at her. “Where arm?!” he demanded.
“You hurt me!” she exclaimed.
“Give Valka arm!” he insisted.
He lifted one side of his upper lip in a snarl, clearly displaying his tusks as he leaned toward her.
Quickly Delia held her arm out to him. “Please don’t do what you did before,” she begged.
Valka ignored her while he smeared the slimy chewed leaves onto the gash in her forearm before using a strip of the cloth to wrap her arm and keep the leaves on top of the gash. When he was sure he’d sealed the cut with the leaves on top of and inside it, he started looking around the cave, his eyes darting here and there before settling on what looked like a trash heap to the far side of the cave entrance. He got up and went over toward it, stopping to give her a frightening stare. “Arm, there!” he insisted.
“Okay,” Delia answered, having realized he was trying to treat her injuries.
Valka walked out of the cave and disappeared from sight for a few moments, then came back in, grinning as he held a large bone over his head triumphantly. “Valka find!” he said, thoroughly pleased with himself.
“Oh, dear, Lord,” she whispered.
He returned to his place on the ground in front of her and held it up to her arm, judging its size against the length of her arm. Satisfied that it would work, he grabbed her other hand and placed it on the long ago sun-bleached bone, pressing her to hold it against her own arm. Then he took hold of another length of cloth and started wrapping it snugly from her hand, up and around every inch of her arm up to the elbow and down again. When he’d finished the wrapping up and then down again, he tied the two ends together.
He sat back and grinned at her. “Valka fix!”
She looked down at her arm, trying not to think about what kind of bone it was that stabilized her wrist, but had to admit that though it hurt, it didn’t hurt as badly as it had up until this point. Delia nodded. “Yes, you did. Thank you.”
Valka nodded, then gathered all the remaining strips of cloth and carried them over to shove them into the same storage place in the cave wall.
Delia looked down at her arm, trying to open and close her fist a time or two. She ran her fingers over the ends of the cloth tied together and it was then that she realized what it was. “This is sail cloth. That’s why it’s so stiff,” she said.
Valka looked at her over his shoulder and shrugged. “Mine.”
Delia looked around the cave. “I would think everything here is yours.”
Valka looked at her with a predatory expression. He lifted an arm to sweep over the cave and everything in it, then ended the wave by jabbing a finger at Delia. “All Valka.”
“I… I am aware,” she said, her voice shaky.
“Strip,” he said.
She looked up at him. “What?”
“No clothes!”
“I, no!”
Valka kept his eyes glued to hers as his fingers began unbuckling the belt he wore around his waist, keeping his furs up and shielding his body from sight. Only seconds later the furs fell to the ground at his feet. He didn’t look down. He knew what Delia saw. And he knew that Delia was now his female and should well know what to expect. The sooner she got used to him and his demands, the sooner there would be no crying.
“Ohhh,” Delia whispered, wide-eyed. Delia took a moment to let her eyes travel the body of the large green skinned Orc standing completely naked before her. From his wide, flat feet, up his muscular calves and thighs, to his tapered waist.
Her eyes widened noticeably at the appendage hanging between his legs — long, thick, deep dark green, with raised bumps running the length of it.
Valka snorted at her gaze lingering over certain parts of his anatomy, reminding her that he was watching her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, but even then couldn’t tear her gaze away from his body. Blinking her eyes quickly, she finally forced herself to look up and away from his hips and what inevitably awaited her there to his expansive chest and strong arms. Even the muscles and striations in his neck spoke of untold strength in what is usually one of the weakest parts of the body, but not for him. There was no part of him that indicated weakness. Lastly her eyes took in the square of his jaw, the fullness of his lips and his eyes, deep amber and chocolate colors swirling as they gave her the opportunity to look her fill. His black hair caught up in intricate braids was almost an ironic finish for such a primitive, scarred, beaten body. Until she looked closer and realized the braids were left hanging carelessly at their ends, the rows uneven and apparently placed to just keep the hair out of his way and nothing more.
When her gaze settled on his once more, he raised that single eyebrow again. “No. Clothes.”
Delia, remembering her own advice to the women she’d come to know over the course of their captivity, simply stood and began undressing as best she could with one arm. Some minutes later she was finally removing the long underwear she wore under her skirts, and tossing them on top of the rest of clothes she’d already let fall to the cave floor. She stood there, refusing to look up to meet his gaze again, not even as he approached. She watched his wide, flat feet come to a stop right in front of her, and then she heard his deep inhales as he scented her.
Valka let out a groan, but it didn’t sound aroused. It sounded, offensive.
Delia’s head lifted quickly and she glared at him. “What does that mean?” she demanded, horrifically embarrassed.
Valka waved his hand in front of his nose and his face skewed up as he squinted his eyes. “Delia stink.”
Delia’s expression became stony. “Delia was stuck on a ship in the hold with more than a dozen other women for I don’t even know how long. You’re lucky Delia’s skin didn’t peel off from the filth she was forced to sit in!” she snapped.
Valka grinned, reached out and picked her up under the arms like one would a dirty toddler, holding her out away from him as he headed in the direction of the back of his cave.
“I can walk!” she insisted.
Valka shook his head. “Delia slow!”
“How do you even know my name?” she asked.
Valka actually chuckled as he continued walking, but instead of arguing with him again, Delia watched with wonder as instead of setting her down at the back wall of the cave as she thought he’d do, he turned around one of the rougher edges of the cave wall and entered a slender walk-through, reminiscent of a hallway in a house that she hadn’t even been aware existed. It couldn’t be seen from the rest of the cave.
Delia noticed a shift in the air. It became warmer and more humid. Intrigued with the changes she was feeling as they moved deeper into the cave system, she dropped all pretense of irritation and watched curiously as he continued moving through the slender passage.
“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked.
“Shhh,” he said.
“Did you just shush me?” Delia demanded.
“Delia loud,” he grumbled.
“I am not loud!” Delia insisted, just as Valka ducked to step into another chamber with high ceilings. Her voice echoed as Valka straightened and still holding Delia out in front of him, approached a small pool of water. It was maybe nine feet across and twelve feet wide, and a warm mist hovered just over the top of it. He held her out over the water.
“Do not drop me in there! Is it even safe?” she demanded.
Valka grinned at her, and let go.
Delia came up sputtering. “I cannot believe you did that!”
“Delia stink,” he repeated.
He walked away from her, leaving her in the pool to soak.
Delia watched as he walked past the pool she was in and down several levels that each had their own pools — based on the steam lingering above them — to what she assumed was the final pool at the end of the chamber, resting lower than all the rest. The floor of this chamber was apparently staged in a terrace type of gradient that didn’t allow her to see it fully from where she floated in the thermal pool she was currently in. The steam was the only thing giving an indication that there were smaller pools further down.
She realized why he’d left her there and moved to the end of the chamber when he began relieving himself in the small pool at the lowest point in the chamber. She averted her gaze and took the opportunity to dunk her head under the warm water a few more times. She held onto the side of the thermal pool with her one good hand, the other floating in the water beside her. “At least he uses the one down there for that, instead of this one for everything,” she muttered, as she regarded her injured arm and decided that it was wrapped in sail cloth, so it most likely wouldn’t hold the water, and would dry very soon before she resettled her good hand on the side of the pool and carefully submerged herself again, injured hand and all.
When she came up she shook her head, trying to get the water out of her face as she continued to cling to the side with her good hand.
“Delia wash.”
She looked up to find Valka standing on the side of the pool right beside where she clung to its side. She lifted her injured arm to show him that it was still injured with a scowl on her face.
He scowled right back at her as he just walked off the side of the pool, dropping in right beside her, feet first. He obviously could touch bottom since he didn’t go under,and took hold of her, pushing her down until her feet touched to see for himself that she couldn’t stand in the pool. He held her there for a few seconds, trying to push her further down before lifting her out of the water.
She came up with her eyes opened, water running down her face and over her shoulders in rivulets. “Have you not noticed that I’m shorter than you are?!”
Valka shrugged and went to scrubbing Delia. Every crevice, every fold of skin, every curve, every single part of her was touched, rubbed, scrubbed by Valka.
At first she sputtered and objected, but he completely ignored her, holding her up by her good arm so she’d dangle half in and half out of the water while he scrubbed.
“That’s enough!” she said.
“More,” Valka said, still intent on getting her clean.
“I said that’s enough! I’m clean!” she insisted.
Valka stopped scrubbing, his hand resting on the cleft between her legs.
“I’m clean,” she repeated.
He stared into her eyes, daring her to stop him as he slowly curled one finger, forcing it between her folds. Only a slight twitch of his eye gave any indication the action affected him.
Delia’s breath caught and she clenched her teeth together, knowing if she angered him by refusing him, she may end up passed along to Skala. And Skala was a male she had no desire to experience. So she held still and waited to see what he’d do next.
Valka was looking for a response from Delia. Any response at all. Instead, she locked down on her emotions and refused to let any expression cross her face. It was frustrating for him, to say the least.
He stroked his finger between her legs once more, then, suddenly the tip of his finger accidentally dipped inside the small opening every female had for accommodation of their males.
“Don’t you…”
He didn’t hesitate, sliding his finger deeply, suddenly, inside her.
The muscles of Delia’s channel locked down on his finger, squeezing it like she would a lover. She couldn’t help it, it was a natural response after the work up he’d given her while he was ‘cleaning’ her.
Valka curled his finger inside her, smirking again when a soft moan escaped her.
Delia’s eyes closed, embarrassed about the pleasure she was experiencing at the hands of a male she should never have been exposed to at all.
He waited.
After several moments with neither of them moving, she opened her eyes to see why he was holding so still.
That was all he was waiting for. He wanted her to see that she wanted pleasure from him, if only for one moment, and he denied her. Huffing out a deep laugh, he pulled his finger out of her still clutching channel and made a show of washing it off in the water, before striding closer to the edge of the thermal pool and lifting her to its edge.
Once she was sitting safely on the side of the pool, he placed one hand on the pool’s edge beside her, then seemed to literally hop right out of the water with little-to-no effort at all.
“I need to… go,” she said, not meeting his gaze.
“No. Valka female.”
“Not, go. Go,” she said, holding her hand to her stomach and pointing toward the pool he’d relieved himself in earlier.
He grunted his understanding, then grabbed her up and carried her over to the smaller pool he’d relieved himself in and pointed to it. “Yes,” he said.
She nodded.
Then he pointed back at the pool they’d bathed in and shook his head furiously. “No!”
Delia nodded. “I understand.”
He left her and walked away, leaving her alone in the chamber to do whatever was required. He obviously didn’t care to watch that at least. “Small favors…” she mumbled as she picked her way around the smaller pool looking for a suitable place to do her business without falling in.
When she finished, she stopped by the larger pool to splash some fresh water on herself, and wandered halfway up the walk-through before she heard noise at the other end letting her know Valka had gone all the way back to the main area of the cave without her.
The moment she stepped into sight, he pointed at the fire circle again. “Sit.”
“Why?”
He turned to her, his expression indicating that he was ready to argue with her for defying him, but instead he somehow managed to control himself and held up a slab of dried fish. “Eat.”
“No, thank you.”
He scowled, striding over to her and shoving the fish at her. “Eat!”
Sighing, and rolling her eyes, she accepted the fish from him, and tore off a piece of the tough, leathery, salty fish with her teeth. She stared at him while she chewed. “I don’t like it.”
“Eat,” he ordered.
He took a bite of his own fish and sat across from her. They sat and ate in silence, though she ate only one piece, and he ate six in the time she ate the one. When he was done, he got up, picked her up, carried her to his bed of furs and laid her on them. “Sleep.”
She nodded hesitantly.
He lay beside her, pulling the furs up over them to keep them warm while they slept.
Delia turned on her side, facing away from him and scooting a little further away.
Valka reached out and pulled her into his chest.
She let out a squeak, surprised by the sudden change of position.
“Sleep,” he said.
“You could have just asked me to move closer.”
“Delia loud,” he grumbled.
“I am not loud!” she insisted.
“Sleep, Delia,” he said, all traces of sarcasm and taunting gone from his voice. “Sleep.”
And when he spoke to her like that, without all the attitude, his was a nice voice.