Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Calypso
Her head throbbed mercilessly as the rain plastered her crimson hair to her scalp.
She had been na?ve to hope she wouldn’t see the orcs who had captured her a week ago again.
In fact, the one whose name she hadn’t bothered to remember had taken particular joy in rendering her unconscious and shackling her once more.
The second she was free, she would bury those shackles in the deepest grave possible. As appealing as it was to possess a magical artifact like that, she would be happy never to lay eyes on them again.
There was only the question of getting free.
Vidorak had told her how to escape the arena, but getting down from the elevated way she was chained would be difficult. Her shoulders throbbed from the extreme angle, and she had to point her toes to keep touching the ground. There were few options without anyone’s help.
The jeering of the crowd brought her attention back to the fighting arena, and the sight of Vidorak’s bloodied chest stopped her breath. Even though his uncle was also battered, Urim moved with an eager calm that made her feel sick.
Vidorak was going to die.
Like trapped prey, frantic desperation overtook her, and she did the only thing she could think to do. She stopped trying to hold up her weight, and let her body hang, applying a jolting pressure at her wrists.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming as the sharp pain dug deep into her joints. Her suffering wasn’t without effort, and her right wrist began to slip through the metal cuff, shearing skin along with it.
Tears flooded her eyes, and her mind lost all thought beyond the brutal pain she was inflicting on herself.
With a final tug, her right wrist slipped free of the shackles.
The comforting tingling of magic weakly reawakened.
She continued to hold her wrist high above her head as she caught her breath.
Her mind was so numb from pain she didn’t notice the fluttering near her ear until the crow tugged on her hair.
Despite being released, the undead, red-eyed crow had returned. Calypso could’ve cried from relief.
She cleared her throat and whispered, “Get me the key.”
The crow flew toward the orc standing several feet away, completely focused on the fight. With light movements, the bird grasped the key with its claws and tugged.
The orc jostled his body, and terror spiked through Calypso. She imagined him turning and killing the bird in one motion.
Thankfully, he continued to watch. With quiet precision, the undead crow seized the key and returned to Calypso once more.
She clutched it, but before she could use it, the leering orc turned away from the fight. Unhappiness was evident on his face as he stalked back toward her. He was confident in the shackles and didn’t bother to even glance at her wrists.
Without speaking a word, he took out a knife and dug its sharp tip into her side. Calypso couldn’t help the soft cry that left her.
“Cry out again, witch. I want Vidorak to hear how he failed you before he dies.” The orc switched his attention back to the fight, eager to see the result of his threat.
Calypso had had enough.
“I’d much rather hear you cry.” She closed her free hand over his wrist, forcing every ounce of fire within her to sear his skin.
Being half-shackled was limiting, but she held nothing back. The orc dropped the knife, hissing at the sudden burn that blistered up his green skin.
The orc rushed to grab his knife as she unlocked her other wrist and dropped to the ground, freed from her restraints.
Now would’ve been the perfect time to run. To blind the orc with her fire and run toward the tunnels that Vidorak told her about. She was free. She had her amulet.
Instead, like the fool she was, she started siphoning her magic toward her undamaged hand, intending to hurl a ball of fire at the chieftain. Interfering with the challenge was likely against the rules, but screw it. If they could play dirty, so could she.
Her plans were cut short when the orc recovered and slammed her back toward the stone wall, hand around her neck. The way he did it was significantly less appealing than the way Vidorak did it.
Pressure increased at her neck, and her air was cut off. Her fingers clawed and burned at his wrists, but the orc was decidedly pushing through the pain with his anger.
“Let her go, Mabanok.” The low, raspy command sounded so quietly that she almost missed it.
The pressure released after a second, and air rushed into her lungs.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed a tall, brawny orc who had half of his face covered in burn marks.
He was bald on the left side of his head, where the scars extended into his scalp, and his ears were covered with heavy rings.
His red orc marks ran from neck to his collarbones, untouched by his extensive burn scars.
He had to be the most frightening orc she’d seen thus far, and she’d seen plenty.
“Leave, Grushag, or you’ll be next,” the apparent Mabanok growled.
Despite Mabanok’s threat, his grip around her neck disappeared. She pushed away, not bothering to figure out what was going on between the two orcs.
Her heart stopped when she saw Vidorak hold back the sharp axe that was descending slowly as he absorbed hit after hit.
Between the rainstorm and the shackles, her magic wasn’t recovering fast enough, and she moved forward, ready to run into the arena. She would not let Urim kill Vidorak. Not when they still had so much between them left unsaid.
Before she could take a second step, the scarred orc, who had just helped her seconds ago, yanked her back. His hold was firm and not painful, but that wouldn’t save him from her ire.
She snapped his way, ready to lash out at him when Vidorak’s voice cracked through the arena.
“This is for threatening my mate.”
For a moment, Calypso’s mind went blank.
Then a wave of cold rage hit her. That fucking bastard. How dare he do all those things to her, make her want all those things, all the while having a mate!
He had kissed and caressed her like something to be cherished, and asked all those probing, and at times flirtatious, questions that healed her heart. Except not only did he have a mate, but one that he would kill for!
The painful throb in her heart was too much to bear, and she poured the acid of her anger over it. She would help him kill Urim and then fight Vidorak herself!
Before she could implement any of her plans, everything suddenly came to an end.
Vidorak crouched over his uncle, family dagger buried deep in Urim’s chest. Urim lay unmoving, even the red blood that bubbled from his chest came to a stop. The whole arena was frozen in time as the death of the chieftain sank in.
Vidorak slowly stood, his dark eyes immediately going to hers before facing the others.
His voice was raw but steady as he spoke.
“I stand before you as the new chieftain. Things are going to change. My uncle failed the clan, and his way of doing things has only brought more hardships. Some of you may not agree.” Calypso noticed he looked in the eyes of several of the stiffer warriors.
“You can challenge me, as is our way. But make no mistake. You will lose.”
With those words spoken, he turned and stalked toward Calypso. The intensity of his gaze caused her heart to beat with anticipation and fear. Little sparks of fire remained at her palms as he closed the distance between them.
He grasped her firmly by the shoulders and tugged her to his chest. Then he leaned down until their foreheads touched, and she thought he would kiss her.
He didn’t. Instead, he put one of his hands on her cheek, simply keeping her close.
The fire at her palms extinguished into nothing. She blinked away raindrops, not daring to take her eyes off him.
She didn’t know how long they’d stood like that, but it felt too soon when he withdrew. Without letting her go, he led her toward the throne that rose above the arena.
He sat down, and Calypso took a moment to look at him, eyes skimming over his harsh face, sharp tusks, and pointed ears.
Gone was the restraining braid, and instead, his long black hair was loose and wild around him.
He sat with calm strength, even with the deep wounds on his bare chest still bleeding.
He looked every bit the orc chieftain that he now was.
“Come sit,” he commanded her.
Her eyes went down to his muscular thigh. She raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be for your mate?”
He dared to give her an annoyed look. “Are you serious, Calypso?”
Oh, she was very serious. New chieftain or not, he would answer for his behavior.
She opened her mouth to argue when a slow realization set in. Her voice shook when she said, “I am not an orcess.”
“I know.”
She swallowed hard, not quite believing what he was insinuating. Of everything that had passed in these last days, this filled her with more fear than anything.
“I can’t be your mate.”
A quick flash of irritation went across his face. “Says who?”
“Says me! We have not even known each other for a lunar cycle.”
“The bond can happen instantaneously.” Patience had run its course, and he leaned forward. “Come sit. Or do you prefer I pick you up and place you on my lap myself?”
Still brimming with questions she didn’t know how to put into words, Calypso stepped forward and sat on his thigh. As confused as she might feel, leaning into him felt right, and sometimes all one could do was what felt right in the moment and sort through the rest later.
Violence still radiated from him, yet all she wanted was to rub against his broad chest. The exhilaration of the fight and their near death intertwined with a sudden longing for him.
Was it the mate bond that made her want to kneel before him at the throne and take his cock in her mouth, onlookers be damned.
Her mind was brimming with mixed emotions when the shaman approached Vidorak’s throne. He gave a brief bow before placing a bloody bone necklace over Vidorak’s head.
“The gods have chosen a new chieftain,” the shaman said loudly before the others. “I know you will lead us well, Vidorak Ushnarsson.”