Chapter 8 #2
A few hours. It wasn’t enough time to build the walls he needed. Not enough distance to kill the warmth that still lingered from her kiss.
“As you command.”
He bowed and turned to leave, but Lasseran’s voice stopped him.
“Oh, and Khorrek? Remember your place. The woman is a tool, nothing more. I would hate for you to develop… inappropriate attachments.”
The words were casual. The threat beneath them was not.
“Of course, High King. She means nothing to me.”
The lie tasted like poison in his mouth.
Lasseran smiled. “Good. See that it stays that way.”
He bowed again and left the audience chamber with the key burning a hole in his pocket and his Beast screaming in his mind.
Mate. Ours. Protect.
She’s not ours. She never can be.
OURS.
He walked through corridors he’d traversed a thousand times, each step carrying him further from Lasseran’s chambers and closer to…
nowhere. He only had a few hours before he had to return.
He had to rebuild his control and forget the taste of her lips.
Most of all he had to forget the way she’d looked at him as if he were something more than a monster.
The barracks would be full of warriors at this hour, but the training yards would be empty, and he automatically headed for them.
The evening air was cool against his face as he stepped into one of the yards. It was indeed deserted, just packed earth and weapon racks and training dummies showing the wear of daily combat.
He grabbed a training sword, the weight familiar and grounding. Then he attacked the dummy with mechanical precision. Strike. Block. Counter. The patterns that had been drilled into him over years of training.
But his mind wouldn’t quiet. He kept remembering her small hand catching his arm, and the vulnerability in her voice when she asked if she’d see him again.
He struck harder, and the dummy rocked under the impact.
She’d thanked him with a sincerity that had cut deeper than any blade.
Another strike. Wood splintered.
Then she’d closed the distance he’d been maintaining so carefully and kissed him. Trusted him.
The training sword shattered against the dummy’s head, and he stood there, breathing hard and staring at the broken weapon in his hand.
His Beast wasn’t roaring anymore—it was waiting.
She is ours. We are hers.
“No,” he said aloud. “I won’t do that to her.”
Because loving him—if that’s what the mate bond meant, if the wild orcs were right—would only bring her pain. He was Lasseran’s creature, his weapon, and weapons didn’t get to keep precious things.
Ensure her cooperation.
The words echoed in his mind. He was responsible for her now, for keeping her alive and obedient and focused on whatever task Lasseran had planned.
Which meant he had to stay close to her but somehow resist the pull that grew stronger every moment they were together.
His Beast laughed, dark and knowing. You can’t resist.
Perhaps not, but for her sake, he could try.
He dropped the broken sword and headed for his room to clean up and don his formal armor. To bury everything he felt so deep that even his Beast couldn’t claw it free.
It was the only protection he could offer her—the only kindness a monster knew how to give.
Two hours later, he stood outside Thea’s door in full ceremonial armor, the black plates polished to a mirror shine. He looked every inch the High King’s perfect soldier.
He could hear the faint sounds of movement inside the room. She was awake—and probably full of questions that he couldn’t answer even if he wanted to.
He heard Lasseran’s footsteps, soft and inevitable before the High King appeared around the corner. He was now dressed in silver and white that made him look as if he were carved from ice—beautiful and cold and utterly inhuman.
“Is she ready?” Lasseran asked.
“I haven’t checked, High King.”
“Then do so. I won’t wait in the corridor like a common servant.”
He inserted the key into the lock and opened the door, then came to an abrupt halt.
She stood in the center of the room, bathed and dressed in a simple blue gown that brought out the blue tint in her grey eyes. Her hair was still damp, curling around her face in wild auburn waves. Her glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose.
She looked beautiful and utterly out of place in this den of vipers.
Her eyes widened as they met his, but then they moved past him to Lasseran and the fear that flooded her expression made his Beast roar with protective fury.
He stepped aside to let Lasseran enter, and took up his position behind the High King’s right shoulder. He became a statue, nothing more, but his eyes never left her face.
And when Lasseran spoke—that silken, terrible voice beginning whatever game he’d planned—Khorrek made himself a silent promise.
He would keep her alive, whatever it took—even if that meant becoming the monster she’d eventually learn to fear. He would protect her, no matter what.
Lasseran smiled at Thea, and Khorrek knew with absolute certainty that everything was about to get much, much worse.