11. Sarod

11

SAROD

I stare at Grokus, my blood boiling as he continues to spew his vile words at Josie. His ugly sneer twists his face as he leers at her, his eyes roving over her body in a way that makes my skin crawl. The sight of it makes me want to rip his fucking eyes out.

"Look at this little human slut," Grokus sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. "Bet she's real good at polishing shit around the house, eh Sarod? Bending over with that body of hers? Probably spreads her legs for any orc that looks her way."

Something inside me snaps. The rage I've been holding back explodes, a red haze descending over my vision. Before I know it, my fist is flying through the air, connecting with Grokus's jaw with a force that surprises even me. The satisfying crunch of bone beneath my knuckles only fuels my fury, sending a jolt of savage pleasure through my body. I want more. I want to beat this piece of shit into the ground for daring to talk about Josie like that.

I see red as I slam Grokus against the cold stone wall of the player's tunnel, my hand clamped around his thick, green throat. The satisfying thud of his body hitting the hard surface only fuels my rage.

"Shut your fucking mouth," I growl. I can feel his pulse racing beneath my fingers, and for a moment, I consider squeezing harder.

Grokus's beady eyes widen in shock, clearly not expecting this level of fury from me. But the bastard recovers quickly, his surprise morphing into that familiar sneer. He throws a wild punch that glances off my shoulder, the impact barely registering through my anger-fueled adrenaline. I easily dodge his next clumsy swing, my body moving on instinct honed from years on the zyrphix pitch.

Without hesitation, I drive my fist deep into his gut, feeling the satisfying give of flesh beneath my knuckles. The air rushes out of him in a whoosh, and he doubles over, gasping.

"You think you can disrespect me?" I roar, my voice echoing off the tunnel walls. My fists seem to have a mind of their own as I rain blow after blow down on him. Each impact sends a jolt of savage pleasure through me. "You think you can talk about her like that?"

The image of Josie's face, the hurt in her eyes at Grokus's vile words, flashes through my mind. It only serves to stoke the inferno of my anger, and I redouble my assault, determined to make this piece of shit pay for every syllable he uttered.

Blood sprays from Grokus's nose as I smash it with my elbow, the crunch of cartilage sending a jolt of satisfaction through me. He stumbles backward, arms flailing as he tries to defend himself, but I'm relentless. My fists pummel his face and body, each impact fueled by a protective rage I've never felt before. It's like a storm inside me, wild and uncontrollable.

"S-Sarod." Josie's voice barely registers through the haze of my anger, a distant echo in the chaos. "Stop, please! You're going to kill him!"

But I can't stop. I won't stop. Not until Grokus learns his lesson. Not until he understands the consequences of threatening what's mine. I grab him by the hair, my fingers tangling in his blood-matted locks, and slam his head against the wall. Once, twice, three times. The dull thud of skull meeting stone echoes in the tunnel. He slumps to the ground, a bloody, groaning mess, his face barely recognizable.

I stand over him, chest heaving, fists clenched so tight at my sides that my knuckles ache. Blood - his and mine - drips from my hands, forming small puddles on the stone floor. "If you ever so much as look at her again," I snarl. "I'll fucking kill you. And that's a promise, you piece of shit."

I grab Josie's arm, pulling her away from the bloody scene. My heart's still pounding, adrenaline coursing through my veins as we make our way to the waiting carriage. The equus snorts and paws at the ground, sensing the tension in the air.

"Get in," I growl, practically shoving Josie into the carriage before climbing in after her. My blood's still boiling, and I can feel the rage pulsing through every inch of my body. The carriage creaks under my weight as I slam the door shut, hard enough to make the whole thing rattle.

As we lurch forward, I can't stop my hands from shaking. I clench my fists, trying to regain control, but it's no use. The adrenaline's still coursing through me, making everything feel too sharp, too real. I can smell the blood on my knuckles, taste it on my lips where I bit down during the fight.

"What the fuck was that?" I snarl, more to myself than to Josie. My voice comes out rough, guttural. "That piece of shit, thinking he can just—" I cut myself off, jaw clenching so hard it hurts. The memory of Grokus's eyes on Josie flashes through my mind, and I have to fight the urge to punch something. "I should've killed him," I mutter, glaring out the window at the passing streets.

I cut myself off, realizing I'm about to say too much. Josie stares at me, her eyes wide with fear.

"Why'd you do that?" she asks quietly. "You didn't have to..."

"Of course I fucking had to!" I snap, my fists clenching at my sides. The anger that had been simmering inside me threatens to boil over again. "You think I'm gonna let that asshole talk about you like that? Like you're some piece of meat he can just claim?"

The words tumble out before I can stop them, raw and unfiltered, and I immediately regret them. I turn away, staring out the window at the passing landscape, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. The trees blur together, a smear of green against the darkening sky.

"Look," I say, my voice gruff as I struggle to keep my emotions in check. I run a hand through my hair, frustrated with myself for losing control. "You're... you're under my protection, alright? That means no one gets to disrespect you. Not even other orcs." I pause, then add with a growl, "Especially not that piece of shit Grokus."

Josie's eyebrows furrow slightly. She bites her bottom lip, clearly in thought. Then, she opens her mouth to speak.

"You really love it, don't you? Zyrphix?" she asks, her eyes searching mine.

I nod, feeling some of the tension drain from my body. The mere mention of the game ignites a fire in my chest. "It's everything to me. The rush, the challenge... there's nothing like it." I pause, running a hand over my scarred knuckles. "When I'm out there on the pitch, everything else just... fades away. It's just me, the ball, and the goal. Pure fucking chaos, and I'm right in the middle of it."

"I could tell," Josie says, her eyes bright with genuine interest. "The way you moved, how focused you were... it was incredible to watch. Like you were part of the game itself."

I feel a warmth spreading through my chest at her words, a sensation I'm not used to. For a moment, I forget about our roles, about the circumstances that brought us together. It's just her and me, talking about something I love.

"Thanks," I mutter, running a hand through my hair, unsure how to handle the sudden softness in her voice. It's different from the usual fawning I get from groupies. "It's... it's nice to hear that from someone who isn't just kissing my ass or trying to get something from me."

Josie laughs, a sound that catches me off guard with its genuineness. It's light and musical, nothing like the forced giggles I'm used to hearing. "Well, you know me. I'm not exactly the ass-kissing type," she says with a smirk. "I'd rather tell it like it is, even if it means pissing off a big, scary orc."

I can't help but chuckle at that. "Scary, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

Our eyes meet, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of something in her gaze. Something that makes my heart skip a beat. It's warm and inviting, almost like she's seeing me for the first time. But then she looks away, and the moment's gone, leaving me feeling oddly hollow.

I clear my throat, straightening myself in the seat. The carriage jolts beneath us, reminding me of the journey home. "We should be home soon. You, uh... you did good today. With the cleaning and stuff." The words feel clumsy on my tongue, but I mean them. She'd worked her ass off, and I couldn't help but be impressed.

Josie raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth. "Was that almost a compliment, Sarod? I didn't think you had it in you."

"Don't get used to it," I grumble, but there's no real heat behind my words. In fact, I'm fighting back a smile. Damn it, what's this woman doing to me? I turn to look out the window, hoping she doesn't notice the way my tusks are twitching with the effort of not grinning.

As the carriage rolls on, I find myself stealing glances at Josie, wondering just what the fuck is happening to me.