Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As soon as Thea fell asleep, Khorrek carried her into her bedroom, then forced himself to leave her there, even though she held out a sleepy hand to him.
He took up his usual position outside her door, but he couldn’t settle.
I almost attacked the High King.
The thought kept ricocheting through his skull, sharp and terrifying. Not threatened or made a strategic intervention. Attacked.
One more second—half a second—and he would have lunged. He would have thrown himself between the High King and Thea with complete disregard for the consequences.
And we would both have died.
His Beast had demanded that he keep her safe, and the need to defend her had almost overwhelmed him. That loss of control was the very thing he’d been trained to suppress since childhood.
His breath sounded harsh in the empty corridor. His hands trembled—not with fear, but with barely-contained violence that had nowhere to go.
Thirty-five years of conditioning, and it had nearly shattered in an instant. Because of her. Because of a small human woman with wild auburn hair and defiant grey eyes who shouldn’t have meant nothing to him.
Instead she meant everything, and he had no idea when that had happened or how to stop it.
He heard the door open behind him.
“Khorrek?” she said softly.
He didn’t turn around. He didn’t trust himself to look at her.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said roughly. “You have work to do tomorrow.”
“I slept for hours. I’m not tired.”
“Then study. Prepare. Do something useful instead of standing in doorways.”
He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but she didn’t retreat. He could feel the warmth of her small body against his back as she stepped closer to him.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked quietly.
Yes. No. I don’t know.
He’d meant it when he said she was magnificent, but the longer he stood alone in the corridor outside her rooms, and the more often he replayed the incident in the throne room, the more terrified he’d become. And the only way he knew how to handle fear was with anger.
“You could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Because he showed restraint. I would have tried to stop him and I would have failed.” He finally turned to face her, letting her see the fury in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how close you came to dying in that throne room?”
She stood in her doorway, still wearing the dress from their audience. Her hair was coming loose from its pins. Her face was pale but composed. Unafraid.
Why is she never afraid of me?
“I know,” she said.
“Do you? Do you understand that he was a heartbeat away from snapping your neck? That I was a heartbeat away from—” He cut himself off. Clenched his jaw.
“Away from what?”
“Nothing.”
“Khorrek—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He turned away again, staring at the stone wall opposite. Focusing on the cracks in the mortar. Anything but her. “Go back inside. Rest. Study. I don’t care which. But do it behind a locked door where you’re safe.”
“Safe from what? Lasseran? Or you?”
The question hit like a physical blow.
“Both,” he said flatly.
More silence, before he heard her move closer.
Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. If you touch me right now I’ll—
Her hand settled lightly on his arm, and his control cracked.
He spun around, backing her against the corridor wall with enough force to make her gasp. His hands bracketed her head, caging her.
“You should be afraid of me,” he growled. “I’m a weapon, Thea. That’s all I’ve ever been, all I was raised to be. And today I nearly turned that weapon against the man I’ve served my entire life because of you.”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t cower.
Instead she looked up at him with those soft grey eyes and said, “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes. Good.” Her chin lifted. “Because serving him is destroying you. And I’d rather see you break free than watch you break yourself trying to be what he wants.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Then explain it to me.”
“There’s nothing to explain. I am what I am.”
“You’re a person, not a weapon.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Prove it.” She didn’t move away from the wall. Didn’t try to escape. “Tell me about your past. Tell me how you became this. Make me understand.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know you. All of you. Not just the parts you think are acceptable.”
He stared at her, searching for the lie, but he found only genuine concern.
It undid him.
He stepped back, putting distance between them. His hands dropped to his sides, clenched into fists.
“We were raised to be perfect warriors who would never question orders.” His jaw tightened. “The training was… thorough.”
“Thorough how?”
“Pain teaches obedience faster than kindness, and fear is more reliable than trust.” He met her eyes. “They broke us, and then they rebuilt us into what they wanted.”
“How old were you?”
“Young enough that I have no memory of anything else. Younger is better because there is nothing to corrupt the conditioning.” His voice remained steady through sheer force of will.
“By the time I was ten, I would have killed anyone they pointed me at without hesitation. By fifteen, I was leading missions. By twenty, I was Lasseran’s most trusted operative. ”
“Trusted,” she repeated. “Or useful?”
“Both. Neither. I don’t know anymore.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “All I know is that for thirty-five years, I have served the throne without question. I’ve done terrible things in the name of that service. Hurt people. Killed people. Never hesitated. Never doubted.”
“Until now.”
“Until now.”
She pushed away from the wall and moved closer. Not touching him, but closing the distance between them.
“What changed?”
“You.” The admission tore out of him, raw and angry. “You changed everything. From the moment I saw you in that stone circle, my Beast has been… different. Wrong. Demanding things I was trained to suppress.”
“Like what?”
“Like protecting you instead of the High King. Like caring whether you’re afraid or safe or hurt. Like wanting—” He stopped. Swallowed hard.
“Wanting what?”
“Things I have no right to want.”
She took another step closer. She was within easy striking distance, but still unafraid.
“Tell me about the training,” she said quietly. “Not the combat training. The other kind. The breaking.”
His hands clenched harder, his claws emerging to bite into palms.
“They isolated us. Kept us separate from each other except during drills. Any sign of attachment to another orc was punished. Brutally.” His voice went hollow. “I watched friends die because they showed affection. Saw brothers torn apart because they tried to protect each other.”
“Gods.”
“There were no gods in those halls. Only trainers and their rules.” He forced himself to continue. To give her the truth she asked for, no matter how ugly. “They taught us that emotion was weakness. That loyalty to anything except the throne was treason. That our lives had value only in service.”
“That’s not training,” she whispered. “That’s torture.”
“It’s conditioning. And it works.”
“Does it?” She met his eyes. “Because from where I’m standing, you seem to be feeling a great deal of emotion right now.”
“I’m failing,” he snarled. “Every time I look at you, every time I want to protect you from him instead of protect him from you, every time I think about choosing your safety over his orders—I’m failing everything I was raised to be.”
“Or you’re becoming what you were meant to be.”
“I was meant to be a weapon!”
“No.” Her hand came up, gently cupping his scarred face. “You were meant to be a person. They stole that from you. But it’s not gone, Khorrek. It’s still there. I can see it.”
“You see what you want to see.”
“I see a male who gives his tunic to a naked stranger even though he doesn’t have to.
Who teaches her his language. Who carries her to bed when she falls asleep over her books.
” Her thumb traced the line of his scar.
“I see someone who’s been hurt and broken and forced into a role he never chose.
But I also see someone who’s strong enough to question it. ”
“Questioning it doesn’t change what I am.”
“Maybe not. But it’s a start.”
He closed his eyes, torn between pulling away and leaning into her touch. Her hand was so small against his face, so precious.
“I’ve killed people,” he said. “Innocent people. People who were just in the wrong place when Lasseran gave an order.”
“I know.”
“I’ve burned villages. Destroyed families. Done things I can never take back or atone for.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still standing here. Still touching me. Still looking at me like I’m worth something.”
“Because you are.” Her other hand came up, framing his face. “What was done to you doesn’t define you, Khorrek. What you choose to do now does.”
“I don’t know how to choose. I only know how to obey.”
“Then learn.” She pulled his head down, closing the distance between them. “Start with this. This moment. This choice.”
And she kissed him, fierce and demanding, and his control shattered.
His arms came around her, pulling her against him until there was no space between them. Until he could feel every curve of her body pressed against his.
Mine.
His Beast roared its satisfaction.
Ours. Keep her. Claim her. Never let go.
The kiss deepened, and her hands fisted in his tunic, holding on like he was the only solid thing in her world.
And maybe he was.
Maybe they were both drowning, and this—this—was the only thing keeping them afloat.
He backed her through her doorway, and kicked the door shut behind them. His hands found her waist, lifting her easily.
She wrapped her legs around him with a small sound that went straight to his head. To his soul.
He carried her toward the bed, but stopped halfway there, pressing her against the wall again. This time there was no anger between them. Only want.
“Khorrek.” She gasped his name as his mouth moved to her throat. As his teeth scraped delicately over her pulse point.