The Ex and the Orcs (Orc Sworn #11)

Prologue

Raye Galina awoke to voices, and a deep foreboding in her chest.

“I have borne this long enough,” one of the voices growled, flat and menacing. “You must tell her about us. About me.”

Raye’s heart skipped, and she shoved up in bed as silently as she could. Listening for the reply, for the voice she both hoped and feared might come…

“I have told her of you,” Kalfr said, his low accented voice barely audible through the cottage’s front window. “Too much, I ken. For she…”

His voice faded, while Raye’s heartbeat began thudding ominously through her ears. And as quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed and crept over toward the window, crouching just high enough to catch sight of the two speakers. The two orcs, facing off in the moonlight.

One of the orcs was new, unfamiliar, with a big bulky body, a craggy, angry face, and a huge, double-bladed axe slung over his shoulder. But the second orc was tall and lean and handsome, and so familiar it made Raye’s heart ache.

Kalfr, of Clan Bautul. Her… her new mate.

Gods, it was still so preposterous, so unnerving.

To be mated — near as well as married! — to an orc.

To one of the deadly, dangerous enemies of the entire realm.

The notorious pillaging monsters who sacked villages in the night, killing men and stealing away hapless women, in order to sire their sons upon them.

Raye’s trembling hand slipped down to her still-normal-feeling waist, her heartbeat thumping even louder — but then she dragged in a deep breath, and fixed her eyes on Kalfr’s familiar face in the moonlight.

Because — no. No. She’d so often been the object of twisted tales herself, a half-foreigner growing up on the edges of polite society, with an unwell mother and a long-dead father — and so she’d always sought to see the truth for herself, to judge on her own terms.

And since the first day she and Kalfr had met in the nearby forest, perhaps three months before, Kalfr hadn’t been at all like the tales.

He was a warrior, yes, a fighter on the opposite side of that endless orc-human war — but he’d never tried to justify the war, or made Raye feel like an enemy.

He’d never frightened her, or brought weapons into her cottage, or pressured her into bed.

Instead, he’d been kind, and generous, and clever, and fun — and when he’d finally taken her to bed, he’d been a dizzying whirl of wonder, of shameless, overpowering pleasure.

And for a poor isolated weaver like Raye, who spent most of her days bent alone over a loom, Kalfr had been a gift. A godsend. Her own hopeful, secret window to paradise, or even peace.

But Kalfr didn’t look peaceful now. Not with how he was pacing back and forth in front of Raye’s cottage, his head bowed low, his deep grey skin a faint gleam in the moonlight. While the new orc stood and viciously glared toward him, as that massive axe glinted white on his back.

“This woman did what?” the new orc demanded, with a jerk of his head toward the cottage. “When you spoke to her of me?”

Kalfr’s groan scraped through the air, and he dragged both his clawed hands down his face. “Raye has not wished to hear of you,” he replied, heavy. “She scents of… envy, whenever I speak of you. Of anger, and mistrust, and fear.”

Raye’s breath stuttered, the alarm and disbelief flaring sharp and bitter through her thoughts. Because — this new orc wasn’t just any orc, then. He was —

He was Gaelfr. Kalfr’s bond-brother.

And a bond-brother wasn’t a blood relation between orcs, as Raye had first thought. But it was something almost as deep, something that seemed to hold great weight for Kalfr’s clan. A pledge of mutual support and friendship between orcs that lasted through their entire lives.

And no, Raye could admit, she hadn’t liked hearing Kalfr talk about his bond-brother.

She hadn’t liked the warmth in Kalfr’s voice, the affection in his eyes.

And most of all, she hadn’t liked his offhanded comment, once, after a breathtaking round in bed together, that it was Gaelfr who had taught him to use his tongue like that.

But now — now this Gaelfr was here. Here, standing outside Raye’s cottage, and barking a hard, angry laugh.

“And?” he demanded at Kalfr. “Did you tell her that it matters naught how angry or fearful she is of me? Did you tell her that I shall yet be your ástvinur, no matter how she feels upon this?”

Gaelfr would be — what? Raye’s heartbeat spiked higher, and she clamped her shaky hand over her mouth, fighting to cover the panting of her shallow breaths. What the hell did Gaelfr mean by that? Why didn’t her feelings… matter? Surely Kalfr would counter this, confront this, please, now…

But Kalfr only let out another ragged groan, and ran his hands against his black braid, smoothing out the wayward curls escaping from it. “Ach, Raye knows what you are to me,” he snapped back. “I have not hidden this from her. But she mayhap does not follow —”

His voice broke, while Gaelfr huffed another hard laugh — and as Raye’s heart surged into her throat, Gaelfr reached out, and… caught Kalfr. Yanked him close. One big clawed hand gripping possessively at Kalfr’s firm arse, the other one squeezing in front with familiar, proprietary ease.

“She does not follow that you yet belong to me,” Gaelfr hissed, every word an agonizing strike to Raye’s churning belly. “And no matter where you go, or whose bed you share, I shall always, always be part of this.”

It sounded like a threat, or a caress, or maybe both — and gods, Raye knew that answering tip back of Kalfr’s head, the arch of his spine, the long line of his exposed throat. The way his lithe expressive body radiated its hunger, and pleasure, and ease…

But then, just as Raye tasted bile in her throat, Kalfr shoved away.

Staggered backwards. Shook his head fast and angry, his jaw set tight.

“No, Gael,” he snarled. “I have sworn vows to Raye. I have sworn to guard her and honour her. She is a brave, kind, lusty woman, and a worthy Bautul mate. A true gift from the goddess. And if she does not wish you to be part of this with us, then you shall not be!”

It felt sure, decisive, a swaying staggering relief in Raye’s gut, but Gaelfr only laughed again, jagged and menacing. “Shall I not?” he asked, coolly now. “Shall you so easily forget the vows you have sworn to me? And what this means for our women and sons?”

Women and sons. A chill wrenched up Raye’s spine, and her shaking hand again clutched at her belly.

She hadn’t told Kalfr about her late courses yet, because he’d been away for the past few weeks, and she’d been waiting for him to return.

Feeling both anxious and excited to tell him, and not a little terrified of what would come next — but she’d always wanted children, a family of her own.

And she… she’d trusted Kalfr. She’d trusted him to take care of her, and their unborn son.

But her heart kept pummelling against her ribs, and Kalfr still hadn’t responded.

Hadn’t countered that highly alarming statement of Gaelfr’s about women and sons, and instead he was pacing again, rubbing his hand at his mouth.

While Gaelfr kept watching with cold impatience, his long black claws flexing on his biceps.

“And shall you forget,” Gaelfr added, “the depth of my scent upon you, after all these summers? And how this woman, whether you wish it or not, shall now always reek of me? Of us?”

What? No. That wasn’t possible, it wasn’t, and Raye sniffed at her trembling fingers, and shook her head. She still smelled just the same as she always had, and this Gaelfr was lying, he was ruining everything…

“You cannot escape this,” Gaelfr said, and he reached for Kalfr again, clasped his shoulder with familiar fingers. “I am your ástvinur, and you are mine. You know this. You need this. You need me.”

His voice lowered at the end, into something soft and velvety, something that shot sheer agony through Raye’s gut.

No. This wasn’t happening. Kalfr would shove Gaelfr away, any moment now.

He would refuse, he would honour those vows he’d made to her, kneeling before her with glittering intensity in his dark eyes.

He would defend Raye, he would defend their son.

But instead… Kalfr closed his eyes. Relenting, agreeing, as Gaelfr’s strong arms drew him close.

And then Gaelfr’s hand spanned Kalfr’s jaw, tilted his head sideways, and bared…

Kalfr’s neck. His neck that had always borne so many messy scars, especially on that side.

But he’d never told Raye why, and she had always assumed it was battles and men, and not…

Not this. Not Gaelfr leaning in, baring his long sharp white teeth… and burying his face deep in Kalfr’s throat.

Raye’s heart screamed through her ears, as bile swarmed into her mouth.

Her eyes frozen on the horrifying sight of this, her kind, generous, beautiful orc mate crushed up against his cruel demanding ástvinur, welcoming his teeth in his throat.

But Kalfr still wasn’t fighting it, and he was even moaning, heated and hungry, and Raye knew that moan, she knew that look on his face, she knew she knew she knew —

And by the time Gaelfr drew away again, his chin streaked with red, his eyes blazing with triumph, Raye knew something else, broken and bitter in her gut.

Gaelfr… hadn’t been lying. Had he? When he’d said Kalfr was… his. Because here it was, clear and close and sickening before her very eyes.

And what else had Gaelfr said? That Raye’s feelings didn’t matter. That he was Kalfr’s ástvinur, and he always would be. That he would always be in Kalfr’s bed. That they’d made vows about women and sons…

“You are mine, Kalfr of Clan Bautul,” came Gaelfr’s harsh, thudding voice. “You, and your woman, and your sons.”

You. Your woman. Your sons.

Mine.

The terror streaked and surged, escaped in a strangled sob from Raye’s throat.

While her hands frantically clutched at her waist, as if fighting to hide her son away, because — no.

No. It wasn’t possible. Those appalling rumours couldn’t be true.

The orcs wanted sons, of course they wanted sons, how had she not followed it, how had she not seen…

Her sweet, playful mate had been… a trick. A horrible orc attack. A nice, easy setup, a friendly little operation, for…

Mine. You. Your woman. Your sons.

They wanted to steal away Raye’s son. They wanted her son for them. They would take him away to that vile Orc Mountain, and make him fight alongside them in this endless awful war.

And if Raye had still nursed any last whispering twinges of doubt, they were crushed beneath the sight of Kalfr… nodding. Nodding. Such a small, stupid motion, to destroy Raye’s entire life, her future, her son.

Her heart was rampaging now, the fury and panic screaming through her entire body, blaring through her brain. No. They wouldn’t. She would do anything. Anything.

And… it wasn’t too late. Not yet. Not even with the sudden sharp look Kalfr aimed over his shoulder toward the cottage, the mutter from Gaelfr beside him…

And before she could question it, Raye lurched toward the cottage door, staggering with every step — and with a desperate yank, she swung the door open.

Confronting both orcs with the sudden sight of her standing there in the doorway, still dressed in her sleeping shift, her hair a wild brown mess in the moonlight.

Kalfr flinched, his face suddenly blank and frozen in the silvery light, while beside him, Gaelfr slowly shook his head, and a growl rumbled from his throat. As if Raye needed any further confirmation, any more certainty of what she needed to do…

“Then please, keep him all to yourself, you horrible hideous beast,” she spat toward Gaelfr’s rigid, unmoving face. “And I never want to see either of you again, as long as I fucking live.”

She gave herself one brief, petty moment to meet Kalfr’s gaze, to drink up the horrified, desperate shock in his eyes. And yes, those were the empty meaningless apologies, already escaping his lying, lying mouth —

But Raye slammed the door shut, and barred it tight against them.

She would never trust an orc again. Ever.