Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Leading Thea through the palace corridors felt wrong. She didn’t belong in this place of cold stone and colder politics. She belonged somewhere warm and safe where she was free.
But that choice wasn’t Khorrek’s to make.
He watched her try to memorize the route. She was always thinking, always planning. Good. She’d need every advantage she could get.
The library doors loomed ahead—massive oak panels carved with the history of the Five Kingdoms—Lasseran’s version of it, anyway. The official narrative where orcs were savage beasts tamed by human wisdom and the High King’s family had ruled with benevolent strength for generations.
Lies. Lies that had begun two hundred years ago. He pushed the thought aside and opened the doors.
She gasped, coming to a halt beside him as she stared at the vast collection of books and scrolls that filled the multi-storied space.
“Sorry. I just…” She stepped inside, and her expression filled with wonder. “This is incredible.”
He followed her gaze, trying to see the library through her eyes.
He’d been here countless times, retrieving texts for Lasseran or occasionally standing guard while the High King researched his various schemes.
Multiple stories of shelves stretched towards a ceiling lost in shadows, with smaller Reading alcoves tucked between the shelves.
Tables covered with open books and scrolls filled the center of the room while carefully shielded oil lamps provided a warm, flickering light.
“The High King collects books from across the Five Kingdoms,” he said. “Conquered libraries. Purchased collections. Some acquired through less… conventional means.”
Stolen, most of them, including orcish texts that were supposed to have been burned. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
“Is that it?” she asked, pointing to the small book on the central table.
“Yes.”
She approached it slowly and reverently, her fingers hovering over the dark leather binding like she was afraid it might crumble at her touch.
“May I?”
The question surprised him. Most people just took what they wanted, but she was asking permission.
He nodded, and she carefully opened the book and began turning the pages. She scanned the incomprehensible symbols with fierce concentration, and then she smiled, a bright genuine smile.
“What is it?” he asked roughly.
“It’s magnificent,” she breathed. “Look at this.” She pointed out a symbol that reappeared on several pages.
“This appears at the start of several sections. It could be a sacred symbol, or even just a header, but it creates a pattern.” She turned more pages, completely absorbed.
“And here—see how these characters cluster together? That suggests word boundaries, which means it’s not a continuous script. It has grammar and structure.”
He stared at her as if she started speaking a new language.
“You can read this?”
“What? No. God, no. Not yet.” She pushed her glasses up as she leaned closer to the pages. “But I can start to see it. The patterns. The logic.” She looked up at him, her eyes were shining. “This is going to be one of the most challenging projects of my career.”
“The High King expects results quickly.”
“The High King needs to manage his expectations,” she muttered, then immediately paled. “Sorry. I know. Death threats. Consequences. I’m just…”
“Excited,” he finished.
She nodded, a rueful smile tugging at her lips.
“I know it’s insane. Trust me, I know.” She turned back to the book.
“But this is what I’ve done my whole life—deciphering languages and solving puzzles.
Finding meaning in chaos.” Her fingers hovered over a line of text.
“Someone wrote this. They had knowledge they wanted to preserve, and I get to be the bridge between their world and this one.”
The passion in her voice made something ache in his chest. When was the last time he’d felt that way about anything? When had belief turned to duty and then to chains?
He couldn’t remember.
“I need paper,” she said, already moving to examine the shelves.
“Pencils or charcoal or whatever you use here for writing. And light. More light. And…” She spun in a circle, taking in the vast collection.
“Reference materials. Do you have dictionaries? Grammars? Anything about ancient languages or magical texts or—”
“I will find what you need,” he interrupted gently.
“Thank you.” She took a seat in front of the book. “If you could start with basic writing materials, that would be—”
This time a massive yawn cut off her words.
His expression softened despite himself. She’d been dragged through a portal, and then across the country. She’d been installed in a prison and threatened by Lasseran, and she was about to dive into an impossible academic project.
Exhaustion was inevitable.
“You should rest.”
“I’m fine. I just need to…” Another yawn. “Caffeine. Do you have coffee here? Tea? Anything with—”
She swayed in the chair and he caught her before she could tumble to the floor.
“Thea.”
“M’fine,” she mumbled against his chest. “Just tired. Been a long…” Her words trailed off into incoherence.
The book was still open on the table, the ancient script glowing in the lamplight as if waiting for someone to unlock its secrets. It would have to wait.
“Come,” he said, shifting his hold to lift her properly. “You need sleep.”
She made a sound that might have been a protest, but her head lolled against his shoulder. Her breathing had already deepened, sliding toward unconsciousness.
He carried her back through the silent corridors, acutely aware of her warmth and the way she unconsciously turned into his embrace, seeking comfort even in sleep. Just as she had on their journey.
This is dangerous.
He knew it was true, but it didn’t matter, because dangerous or not, he couldn’t make himself put her down. He couldn’t make himself care about the consequences.
She said she felt safe with him. No one had ever felt safe with him before.
He carried her into the bedroom of her beautiful prison and laid her gently on the bed, trying not to disturb her, and started to pull away.
Her hand shot out, catching his arm with surprising accuracy for someone mostly asleep.
“Khorrek.” His name was a sleepy murmur.
“Yes?”
She smiled, the expression transforming her face and making her even more beautiful. When she pulled his head down, he didn’t resist. He told himself he just wanted to hear what she had to say.
Lie.
He knew what was about to happen, and he didn’t try to stop it.
She kissed him. Just like before, as soon as their lips met, every wall he’d so carefully constructed vanished. There was only the soft warmth of her mouth and her sweet scent filling his head.
He kissed her back.
The decision bypassed rational thought entirely and his Beast surged forward with a possessive growl, demanding he claim her. Protect her. Keep her.
Mine.
He cupped her face with one hand while he braced the other against the bed, holding his weight off her but bringing him close enough to feel her warmth.
She made a sound—half gasp, half moan—and it shattered something in him.
He’d spent years controlling his Beast. Decades learning to suppress every primal instinct, every emotional response. Lasseran had trained him well, but nothing had prepared him for this.
For her.
His mouth moved against hers with a hunger that should have terrified him. Teeth and tongue and barely leashed violence transformed into passion. She tasted like courage and curiosity and things he had no right to want.
Her hands found his shoulders. His neck. The edge of his jaw.
More, his Beast demanded. Claim her. She belongs to us.
The thought jolted him back to reality.
No.
He wrenched himself away, putting three feet of distance between them like she’d suddenly caught fire.
“No.” His voice came out as a harsh growl. “No, we cannot.”
She lay there, breathing hard, her lips swollen from his kiss and her eyes wide with confusion. And hurt.
“Did I… was that not…”
“You need to sleep.” He forced himself to look away. “You are exhausted and not thinking clearly.”
Liar.
She’d been thinking perfectly clearly, and so had he. That was the problem.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
Each word was a knife between his ribs.
“Sleep, Dr. Monroe.”
The formality was a deliberate reminder of the roles they were supposed to play.
Guard and prisoner. Orc and human. Monster and beauty.
“Thank you,” she said, so quietly he almost missed it. “For bringing me back. For everything.”
He gave a quick, sharp nod and walked to the door on legs that felt like lead. His Beast howled at him to go back and finish what they’d started. He only made it to the threshold through sheer force of will.
“Where are you going?” she said softly, and the question stopped him cold.
“To stand guard.” He kept his voice flat and emotionless. “You are my responsibility. I will ensure your safety.”
“You don’t have to stand outside the door all night.”
“I do.”
He left before she could argue and his resolve could crumble.
The hallway was empty and silent except for his own harsh breathing. He leaned against the wall opposite her door, then slowly slid down to a sitting position. It was not the correct stance for a guard, but the cold stone floor was a welcome shock to his overheated system.
What have I done?
He could still taste her. Still feel the silk of her hair against his fingers.
Still hear that breathy sound she’d made when he’d kissed her like a starving man confronted with a feast. That was twice now.
The first time could have been written off as a mistake, but there was no excuse for the second time.
He was her guard—her jailer, no matter how he tried to frame it otherwise. And she was Lasseran’s pawn in the High King’s quest for more power.
Getting involved with her was suicide.
Even worse, getting involved with her could get her killed.
But his Beast didn’t care about logic or consequences. It had recognized Thea the moment their eyes met at the stone circle.
Mate.
“No,” he said aloud, as if speaking the denial would make it true.
She was human. He was an orc. They came from different worlds and lived in different realities. She wanted to go back to her world.
And even if none of that mattered—even if they somehow found a way past every obstacle—he was still a monster. He’d killed for Lasseran. Destroyed for him. Betrayed his own people for the High King’s approval.
He was everything his wild brethren accused him of being—a weapon without conscience.
She deserved better. She deserved someone who could offer her freedom. Someone who wasn’t broken beyond repair.
His enhanced hearing picked up the rustle of fabric from inside the room, followed by silence.
She was alone in there, facing an impossible task with death as the price of failure.
And he was out here, unable to help her in any meaningful way.
Unable to even comfort her because he couldn’t trust himself to stop at comfort.
This is my punishment, he thought bitterly. For every moment I chose Lasseran over my people.
He had been given exactly what his Beast craved—a mate, fierce and brave and perfect—and she was completely untouchable.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the stone wall.
It was going to be a very long night.