Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Kragorn
Sadly, I watched the steaming liquid seep into the filth of the dungeon floor. The filth I knew too well, since I’d added to it these last few months. Since my ill-fated escape plan, since the thorough thrashing my body had taken, I’d been chained and forced to kneel in the muck.
And each drop of fresh water was precious down here.
I shouldn’t have startled her. I shouldn’t have spoken to her, done anything which would distract her from this unexplained mission of mercy she’d taken upon herself, despite her fears of me.
Mayhap I’d wanted her to see me as an equal, someone who didn’t deserve this treatment. Mayhap I’d wanted her to see me as a male.
Telling her about Nan was stupid.
Except…Lillian stared at me as she poured more of the tea. Her hands didn’t shake, her gaze was direct. Disbelieving.
“Your grandmother…” she whispered. “She is a human?”
“Aye, and a chief’s Mate,” I drawled slowly, praying to all the gods she wouldn’t drop this cup. My stomach was full for the first time in months, but my throat still ached for water. “My grandfather stole her when her father objected, but ‘twas a love match.”
I saw her lips form the words A love match but no sound emerged. Instead, she stepped up to hold the cup to my lips, her wide-eyed stare locked on the stones above my head.
She wasn’t thinking of me at that moment, I was certain.
A part of me, the part of me which had led my men into battle many times, the part of me which rebelled at the thought of this captivity, calculated how much force would be necessary to pull her to me, to throw her over my shoulder, to fight my way past the guard and gain my freedom.
My Kteer, meanwhile, urged me to grab her, aye, but not to bother with the freedom, not when there was a female body so close. It growled taste plunge kiss lick joy claim claim claim.
And the rest of me, the apparent only logical part of me, remembered I was in gods-damned chains, half-dead and beyond weak.
Holding Lillian would have to wait.
My Kteer sulked, and the fact I could realize that made me want to smirk.
But I was too busy savoring the warm silken slide of the tea down my throat.
Nan made yarrow tea to bring down fevers and to help knit bones.
Would Lillian’s brew be enough? Good food in my belly and yarrow tea in my veins?
Would that push the fever-madness away, help me grow stronger by… when had she said?
“What’s Hogmanay?” I asked as I finished the last of the liquid.
I felt her startle, since she was so close to me, and she flushed as she glanced down.
“Um…’tis the start of the new year. Father is hosting his allies. Laird McDonald was supposed to marry Sorcha, but when she was stolen by Bladesedge, he accepted Elspeth in her place. And Father says there is going to be a new potential ally—”
She bit down on her words and, flustered, turned back to the tray she’d brought down to this hellhole. Was she embarrassed at her chatter, or upset that she’d revealed more than intended?
I had a need to keep her talking. Not because I was desperate for information—although that couldn’t hurt—but because the thought of her walking out of here, taking her food and drink and sunshine with her… I winced.
“My people celebrate Midwinter’s Festival,” I confessed, my throat tight as I thought of home. “We burn the largest tree we can find, extinguish our own fires, then bring home a spark from the communal blaze. Good food, friends…”
Her hands were busy with a white cloth and a crock of something foul-smelling, but I saw her blue gaze dart toward me from under her lashes.
“You must miss—” Once more, she bit down on her words, then focused on scooping the contents of the crock onto the cloth, spreading it with her fingertips. “Your celebrations sound louder than ours. Yours are outside?”
I imagined her people celebrated in their fancy Grand Hall.
“Aye,” I rasped, watching her work. “We honor the gods by standing in their cathedral.” When her eyes widened in surprise and her gaze jerked to me, I explained.
“The moon and the stars over us, the flames reaching toward them…the longest night doesn’t seem so long when we’re all together, eh?”
Her chin ducked against her chest again and her fingers moved faster. “And when that happens… Your grandmother is there?”
She was curious about Nan? Well I suppose that made sense. I would explain, if only to keep her with me longer. The Lady Lillian was the most intoxicating female I’d ever smelled. Or mayhap the fever was melting my brain.
“Orcs have been Mating with human females for generations, Lillian.” Was it my imagination, or was that a shudder? “Some of our elders believe ‘tis the only way for our race to survive.”
She put the crock on the tray but didn’t put the lid on it. When she reached hesitantly for me, I forced myself to keep talking.
“There are pathways that open between our worlds on the night of the full moon, for a short time only. ‘Tis most common for warriors to raid then, to steal human females to be their Mates.”
Lillian made a small noise, her focus on wrapping the cloth around the wound on my right arm, and I couldn’t tell if it was an agreement or interest or she wanted me to stop talking.
I wasn’t going to.
“When an orc Mates with a human—fooking hells,” I hissed in pain, trying to jerk away from her touch. “What the shite is in that?”
Lillian glanced at me—at the ruined side of my face—her expression neutral. Then she focused on my wound again, chasing my arm until the chains meant I couldn’t pull away any further.
When she pressed her palm to the cloth, smearing whatever that stickiness was against my wound, I hissed again. “Torvor’s spear, lass, are ye trying to kill me?”
And in that moment, I had the awful, horrible fear that mayhap that was her intent. Mayhap her kindnesses of the last two days had been merely to lure me into calmness so she could cause this pain, this fire which spread through my arm and up my shoulder and into my chest.
“The poultice contains mustard seed,” she finally said, her tone even. “’Twill draw out the infection that is causing your fever. What were you saying about orcs and humans tupping?”
Tupping?
Such a carnal word, coming from her lips, distracted me from the pain. My gaze landed on those lips—pressed thin in disapproval. Of me? Of my wound? Or the topic?
“I spoke of Mating, lass,” I said gently. “’Tis verra different than tupping. ‘Tis a partnership—”
“Like marriage.”
Nay. Aye.
“I havenae noticed anything particularly egalitarian about human marriages. In my world, human Mates are honored partners.”
The pain had dissipated…or mayhap I was fooled into believing that when Lillian’s clear blue eyes—so big and bright, at odds with her cowed body language—swung my way.
“My sisters are married to Bladesedge warriors.”
Aye, that’s what got us into this mess in the first place.
“I ken.” I couldn’t help but growl.
The Bladesedge clan had been our enemies for generations. So long, now, I doubted any of us even remembered why we hated one another. Each autumn we raided, stealing resources and cattle, although we rarely killed unless in battle against one another.
Last summer, the Bladesedge chief received a vision from his holy woman that his Mate waited for him in the human’s world. He intended to steal one of Tarbert’s daughters, but two other kinswomen came along, and the last I’d heard, his brothers had each Mated one of them.
In one full moon’s time, Bladesedge clan had gained a powerful human ally several times over, making my clan more vulnerable. Last fall, thinking to nip that competition early, Bloodfire warriors crossed through the veil to show Tarbert we weren’t to be targeted.
My men are fearsome, and they won the day…
But I fell.
And I’d been here ever since.
Lillian was still watching me.
“My sisters. Are they…?”
When she trailed off, I frowned, not understanding, and she shuddered and spun about, limping toward her tray.
“Are they what?” I asked.
She busied herself spreading more of that obnoxious goo on another cloth, and I glanced down at the one she’d wrapped around my arm.
The burning had faded, replaced with a dull sort of numbness.
I couldn’t feel my fingers on my right hand, and I prayed it meant the concoction was working… not that she was slowly killing me.
Here I was, dangling from the wall in some human lord’s dungeon, my muscles cramping and my knees weak, worried about being tortured to death by the most intriguing little pain-bringer…
and my fooking Kteer still rumbled deep in my chest. It should have been focused on keeping me alive, but instead it was focused on Lillian’s scent.
Fook me, I needed to get out of here.
Once I escaped, I could worry about this damned arousal, this inopportune stirring of my cock beneath my kilt. I was never one to enjoy pain with my pleasure, and Lillian was here today to cause me pain…which means I was getting the world’s most awkward hard-on right now.
Thank the gods Lillian hadn’t noticed. She turned back to me, that cloth held between her hands, and stepped close. She stood between my knees, close enough I could grab her, were my arms not shackled. I could pull her to me, crush my face against her breasts, taste her skin…
I swayed toward her, my tongue darting out to brush against my tusks, wondering how she would taste.
“My sisters…” Lillian began again, lifting that cloth so I could see it with my good eye. She took a deep breath. “Are they honored partners? Are they Mates, or merely pawns?”
Before I had a chance to answer, she pressed the cloth strip—and the mustard poultice—to my right eye socket, now in ruins. The burning was immediate and I jerked my head away from her, dropping back as much as I could, my mouth open to roar in pain—
But she didn’t release me.