8. Josie

8

JOSIE

A nother day, another tough day of working under Sarod's scrutinizing and domineering nature. I scrub the wooden floor with vigor, my arms aching from the repetitive motion. Sarod's eyes burn into my back, and I fight the urge to turn around. His gaze has been following me more often lately, and it sets my nerves on edge.

"You missed a spot," he grunts from across the room, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I clench my jaw, deliberately ignoring the area he's pointing out. My arms are already screaming from the constant scrubbing, and his nitpicking is wearing on my last nerve. "I'll get to it when I'm good and ready," I mutter, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice.

"What was that?" His voice drops dangerously low, a rumble that reminds me of distant thunder.

My heart races, pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it, but I keep my tone steady. I won't let him see how he affects me. "I said I'll do it in my own time," I repeat, louder this time, a hint of challenge in my words.

Heavy footsteps approach, each one making the floorboards creak ominously. Suddenly Sarod looms over me, his massive frame blocking out the light. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, but I force myself to do it anyway, meeting his intense amber eyes with defiance. I refuse to back down, even as my pulse quickens and my palms grow sweaty against the scrub brush.

"You'll do as I say, when I say it," he growls, his deep voice rumbling through the air between us.

"Or what?" I challenge, rising to my feet with a defiant tilt of my chin. We're inches apart now, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. His scent fills my nostrils. "You gonna kill me over a dirty floor? That seems a bit extreme, even for you."

His nostrils flare, and for a moment, I think he might actually strike me. My heart pounds, but I stand my ground, refusing to back down. But then something shifts in his expression – a flicker of... admiration? It's gone so quickly I almost think I imagined it.

"Get back to work," he mutters, turning away with a huff.

I smirk, feeling a small victory. As I return to scrubbing, I catch him watching me from the corner of my eye. There's an intensity there that wasn't present before, and it sends an unexpected thrill through me. I try to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand, but I can't shake the feeling that something has changed between us.

Later, as I'm folding laundry, Sarod barks an order to reorganize his closet. The pile of clothes in front of me seems endless, and my back aches from hours of bending over.

"I'm busy," I snap, not bothering to look up from my task. My fingers work quickly, folding each garment with practiced efficiency.

"Did I stutter?" he snarls, his deep voice rumbling through the room.

I pause, taking a deep breath before meeting his gaze, chin raised defiantly. "No, but neither did I. I'll do it when I'm finished here."

We stare each other down, the air crackling with tension. His amber eyes bore into mine, and I can see the muscle in his jaw twitching. To my surprise, Sarod's lips twitch into what might almost be a smile. It's a subtle change, but it softens his harsh features for just a moment.

"You've got quite the mouth on you, don't you?" he says, his tone softer than I expected. There's a hint of amusement in his voice that catches me off guard. I blink, unsure how to respond to this sudden shift in his demeanor.

I shrug, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickens. My heart's racing, but I'll be damned if I let him see how he affects me. "Someone's gotta keep that ego of yours in check," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Might as well be me."

He chuckles, the sound sending an unexpected warmth through my chest. It's a rich, deep rumble that I feel more than hear, and it does funny things to my insides. As he walks away, his broad shoulders filling my vision, I can't help but wonder what's changed between us. The fear is still there, lurking beneath the surface, but now it's mixed with something else – something dangerous and thrilling that I can't quite put my finger on.

I watch him go, my mind racing. Does he like the fact that I'm pushing back on his orders more and more? And if so... why? It doesn't make any sense. He's Sarod, for crying out loud – the horrifying orc who's used to getting his way. But instead of putting me in my place, he seems almost... pleased? I shake my head, trying to clear these confusing thoughts. Whatever game he's playing, I need to stay sharp. But a small part of me, a part I'm not ready to acknowledge, wonders what it would be like to play along.

The next day, I find myself leaning against the broom, staring out the window at the sprawling grounds of Sarod's estate. The sun dips low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. It's beautiful, but all I can think about is how far I am from home. My mother. I hope she's okay. I was the main breadwinner for our home, so now that I've been stuck here…

My mind wanders to thoughts of escape. I picture myself slipping away in the dead of night, making my way back to the city. I'd find honest work, maybe even save enough to open my own little shop. No more scrubbing floors or folding laundry for a demanding orc.

But reality crashes down hard. Where would I go? Back home, where Sarod could hurt me and my mother? How would I survive? Sarod's threat of death for my theft still hangs over my head. I sigh, gripping the broom tighter.

"Daydreaming again?" Sarod's gruff voice startles me, yanking me back to reality. My heart skips a beat, and I can feel heat rising to my cheeks.

I whirl around, nearly knocking over a delicate vase perched on a nearby table. My hand shoots out to steady it just in time. "I was just... thinking," I stammer, trying to regain my composure.

"Well, think while you work," he grunts, but there's less bite in his tone than usual. I catch a flicker of something softer in his amber eyes before it vanishes.

I nod quickly, returning to my sweeping with renewed vigor. The broom bristles scratch against the floor as I work, filling the awkward silence between us. As I move around a corner, lost in thought again, my foot catches on the edge of an ornate rug. I stumble, arms flailing wildly, and crash right into Sarod's broad chest.

"Watch where you're going!" he barks, but his strong hands steady me, gripping my upper arms. For a moment, I'm acutely aware of how close we are, the warmth of his touch seeping through my thin shirt. My breath catches in my throat as I look up at him, our eyes meeting for a brief, charged instant.

I look up, ready to snap back, when I notice a smudge of dirt on his nose. Without thinking, I reach up and wipe it away with my thumb, the rough texture of his green skin surprising me.

"You had a little..." I start, then freeze as I realize what I've done. My hand hovers in the air between us, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

To my shock, Sarod bursts out laughing. It's a deep, rumbling sound that I've never heard before, like distant thunder rolling across the sky. I can't help it – I start giggling too, the tension between us dissolving into unexpected mirth.

"You're the strangest creature I've ever seen," he says, shaking his head. His amber eyes dance with amusement, and I find myself captivated by the sight.

For a moment, I see a different side of him. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his tusks less menacing when he smiles. It's... surprisingly charming. I feel a flutter in my chest, a sensation I quickly try to squash. But as our laughter fades, I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between us, ever so slightly.

Confusion sets in quickly. I'm not supposed to find him charming. He's my captor, my tormentor. But in this moment, he seems almost human. The laughter has softened his features, making him look younger, more approachable. It's disconcerting how quickly my perception of him can shift.

"I... should get back to work," I mumble, stepping away. My cheeks feel warm, and I'm not sure if it's from the laughter or something else entirely.

Sarod's smile falters, replaced by his usual stern expression. "Yes, you should." There's a hint of regret in his voice, as if he too is reluctant to break this unexpected moment of levity.

As I resume sweeping, my mind races. What was that? Why did my heart skip a beat when he laughed? I shouldn't like him, not even a little. But that glimpse of warmth, that moment of shared humor... it's stirred something in me I can't quite name. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my thoughts keep drifting back to the sound of his laughter, the crinkle of his eyes.

It's dangerous territory, and I know I should stay far away from it. Yet, a part of me can't help but wonder what other sides of Sarod I've yet to see.