Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

GAROTH

T he ship groans like it has a bellyache. It’s a tight squeeze in here, all wires and pipes, not meant for two bodies, especially not my big orc frame.

“Hand me that hydro-spanner.”

Her fingers brush mine, except I ignore the jolt it sends through me.

“Is this what you need?” Her voice does something to me. Damn diplomatic charm. But there’s a tremble under it. Excitement? Fear? Don't know and don't care.

“Perfect.” The word comes out like a fucking growl. I’m used to barking orders, not this... whatever the hell this is we’ve been doing since she helped me fight those space pirates and warlords. Never thought a human female would be anything but trouble and a dead weight. She proved me wrong.

I just need to get her to the warlords who paid me to capture her for them. I’ll collect my credits, and she’ll try her charms on them. Though a lot of good it will do. Not my problem.

I wrench at the stubborn bolts, my muscles bulging.

The ship needs fixing. I can’t have it falling apart out here in the black. That’s what matters. Not how soft her sighs are. Not the feel of her hip against my thigh.

“Careful,” I grunt, not sure if I'm warning her or myself. “These systems are finicky.”

“Garoth, your hands...” She trails off, her eyes on my scarred knuckles. Trophies from a thousand fights. Her eyes flash with something. Admiration? Better not be pity. I fucking hate pity.

“Battle scars,” I say sharply, pulling back. Too late, I realize I’ve pinned her against the wall with my bulk.

For a second, we're locked together, her soft curves against my hard muscles. Her breath catches, chest rising against my arm. It’s hot in here, and it isn’t the broken thermal regulators.

Her dark hair has come loose, framing her face. For a second, I want to— “Sorry,” I growl. I pull back, but not before I catch something in her eyes that I swear is more than revulsion. Except I doubt a pretty thing like her would be interested in an orc, and I have better things to do.

“Nothing to apologize for,” she says lightly. But I can see her pulse racing in her throat.

We get back to work and the silence is thick enough to choke on. I tell myself it's just the damn cramped space, not this infuriating human. She moves with grace even here, adapting to my world like she was born to it. It pisses me off how easy she makes it look.

“Almost done,” she says, sounding proud of herself.

“Good.” I keep it short and gruff. Fancy words are for weaklings.

The control panels lit her up like some damn warrior goddess. A shadow of determination and... something else I don’t want to name. We’re hurtling through space, and I feel something I can’t shake. A connection.

Nah. No fucking way.

I crush the feeling. Bury it deep where it can't fuck with me. Orcs don't do soft shit. We don't roll over and show our bellies. Yet here I am, caught up in this human woman who doesn’t know when to quit.

“Let’s get this finished,” I say, focusing on the wires instead of how my skin tingles where she’s touched me.

“Right,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her words. It shouldn’t do things to me. But it does.

I keep my eyes on my work, but my mind wanders. To her lips. To the curves of her body. To how she’d feel in my arms while I plow into her soft pussy.

Instead, I clench my jaw and force myself to focus on the damn job.

An hour later, we’re more than halfway done, but it’s late, and I’m starving.

“Get cleaned up while I make us something to eat,” I grunt, pushing up to stand.

She nods her head and disappears into my room where the only bath and shower are while I clench my fists, heading to the mess hall.

* * *

Half an hour later, I’m hacking at the kara roots, their purple skins giving way under my blade. Lila walks into the galley, her footsteps echoing off the metal floors.

The small space feels even tighter with her here. The air changes, charged with something I can’t name.

“Need a hand?” she asks, stepping in close. Her braid swings against her back as she moves. Practical. Simple. So why can’t I stop staring?

“Sure,” I grunt, shoving aside the unease. She grabs a knife, her fingers brushing mine. These human touches keep throwing me off.

She works smoothly, slicing through the vegetables like she’s done it a thousand times.

“Kara stew?” she guesses, eyeing the pile of chopped stuff.

“Right. Orc food. Good after a fight.” I chuck the roots into the pot. “Hearty. Fills the void.”

“Sounds perfect for ship repairs too.” There’s a smile playing on her lips as she adds some spice from her stash. And I like how she keeps surprising me.

Before long, we sit across from each other, the table barely big enough for our bowls. The food’s hot, steam rising between us, but it doesn’t hide how intensely she’s looking at me.

“Tell me about your home planet,” she says, breaking the bread with practiced ease.

“Harsh,” I start. “Strength is valued above all else.”

“Much like you,” she observes, taking a bite. Her eyes close for a second, enjoying the taste. I can’t look away.

“Perhaps.” I nod, watching her chew. “And yours?”

“Divided.” She swallows and opens her eyes. “Beauty marred by conflict. I’ve always sought harmony after serving in the military.”

“Naive,” I say before I can stop myself, but there’s no bite to it.

“Hopeful,” she corrects me, and though she’s smiling, her eyes are dead serious. They pull at something inside me, something I’ve been trained to ignore.

“Hope gets you killed,” I tell her.

“Despair does too,” she counters softly, her eyes locked on mine. “But slower.”

We eat in silence after that. The tension winds around us, tight as the coils that drive this ship through the void. I study her as she eats, the way her fingers handle the utensils, so different from my rough grip.

“Your people... do they accept you?” she asks, her brow furrowing.

“Acceptance isn’t given.” My chest tightens. “It’s earned, every day.”

“Must be exhausting.” There’s something in her tone that sounds like she gets it.

“Life’s a bitch. Best you can hope for is you die fighting,” I reply, the weight of years spent proving myself to my clan bearing down on me.

The silence stretches again, the ship’s hum in the background. I should be thinking about our course, the bounty, or rather the reward for returning her since the fucking warlords double-crossed me—but instead, I'm fixated on those blue eyes of hers, that mouth that's driving me crazy as she wipes it with the back of her hand.

“Garoth,” she says, and my name on her lips twists something inside me.

“Lila,” I answer without meaning to, admitting to the pull of her, like gravity, impossible to fight.

“Thank you for the meal,” she says, standing to clear our dishes. Her movements are smooth, a dance that shouldn’t captivate an orc. But they do, and I’m left staring after her, heat building in my gut.

In this cramped ship, with its cold metal walls and endless black outside, her heat slams into me, setting my blood on fire.

After we clean the dishes, we head back to finish working.

When the wrench slips from my grip, clattering on the cockpit floor, Lila snatches it up before I can, her quick hands moving faster than my eyes can follow. Her fingers brush against my palm as she returns the tool.

“Thanks,” I grunt, trying to ignore how her being so close sets my nerves on edge.

She nods, eyes fixed on the console where we’re about to chart a course through the asteroid field. “Let’s get started,” she says, pulling up the navigation plans. Her fingers dance across the holographic display, and I notice how she moves—like she belongs out here. Damn me for noticing.

“Tell me something, Garoth.”

“What?” I tighten a screw.

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

And I can tell by her leaning toward me that she won’t stop asking until I answer her.

“Back home,” I start roughly as the memory hits me, “there’s this field behind where I live. Full of firegrass that lights up when the two moons cross. As a kid, I’d sneak out, lie in the grass, and watch the sky. Dream of riding those stars.”

My words hang in the air, heavy as a warhammer. It feels like I've just handed her a blade and bared my neck. But Lila doesn’t strike; instead, she looks at me with those blue eyes, and I see something like wonder—or is it understanding—flash within them.

“Sounds beautiful,” she murmurs, turning back to the display. The console lights paint her face green and blue, shadow and light playing over her features.

I rip my gaze away from her. My heart’s pounding like war drums, but I push it down. No time for this shit.

“That should do it. Now to get you back to your home. Plotting a path through an asteroid field requires precision,” I say, almost growling.

I lean in closer, our shoulders nearly touching as I point to a cluster of rocks on the screen. “We’ll need to adjust thrusters here... and here.” My finger hovers over the display, but all I can think about is how warm she is next to me.

“Understood,” she replies, but there’s a hint of something in her response.

Our hands move together, almost touching, as we coordinate the sequence of maneuvers, the ship responding to our commands like it’s an extension of our bodies.

“Your turn.” I step aside to let her take the lead. Watching her, there’s an ache deep in my gut, one I’ve been fighting since she came aboard. It’s not just respect for her skills or admiration for her guts—it’s more basic, more dangerous. How I want to taste her, feel her, bury myself inside her.

“Like this?” she asks, executing commands with confidence. Her brow furrows in concentration, and without thinking, I reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly like that,” I say roughly.

The touch lingers, my calloused fingers against her soft skin. It's like a fucking electric current straight to my core.

Her pulse quickens under my touch, and for a moment, the vastness of space seems to shrink down to just this point where we’re connected.

She doesn’t pull away, and in her eyes, I see something smoldering, ready to burst into flame if given the chance. “Garoth,” she says softly, and her saying my name pulls me in, making me want to say things no orc should ever feel, let alone say the hell out loud.

But I hold back. The bounty hunter and warrior in me crush this weakness. “Stay sharp, Lila,” I warn, though it’s myself I’m really talking to. Because out here in the cold void of space, it’s her I’m craving.

The console lights up like a fireworks show, alarms blaring. “Frak,” I mutter under my breath. Dead navigation system. Just what we need.

“Here.” She doesn’t look up, but her hand brushes mine as she passes a tool, and it’s like a lightning strike straight into me. I stomp it out, forcing everything but survival out of my thick skull.

“Quick thinking,” I say instead, nodding at how fast she spotted the faulty relay. Her lips curve in a small, triumphant smile, and something twists inside me, a heat I have no business feeling.

“Comes with the territory.” Her eyes never leave her work.

I watch her, taking in the way her braid has come loose, dark waves framing her face. The subtle flex of muscles beneath her jumpsuit. It’s torture, being this close, the ship forcing us together like this.

“Move,” she instructs, her tone brooking no argument, and she crawls back into the small space beneath the console we worked on earlier.

I join her, shining a light so we can both see.

We’re in the ship’s guts now, crammed in tight. Cold metal at my back, the heat of her body at my front. Every breath brings her scent, something wild I can’t name, filling me with an almost painful hunger.

“Steady,” I murmur, my hands finding the edges of the panel she’s wrestling with. We move together, a dance we’ve never practiced but somehow nail perfectly. The tension between us is a live grenade, ready to blow any second.

“Got it!” Her voice rings out, triumphant, and the panel clicks into place. For a moment, we’re frozen with things we’re not saying, desires we’re not giving into.

“Good work,” I manage roughly from things I shouldn’t be feeling.

We pull apart, the distance suddenly feeling like a cold, empty void. And I push my thoughts to the stars outside. But it’s no use; they keep circling back to her, caught in her gravity.

The ship’s hum is like a lullaby, the same old song. But there’s a new note in it now, off-key, setting my teeth on edge. I’m at the console, fingers dancing over the controls when the universe decides to throw us a curveball.

The deck bucks like a wild beast beneath me. “Shraak!” The curse rips from my throat as I’m thrown forward. Lila’s there—she’s always there—and we collide, a tangle of limbs and startled gasps.

Her body’s firm against mine, every curve pressed close. My arms wrap around her on instinct, hardened by countless battles. It’s meant to steady us, nothing more. Yet having her this close stirs something primal in me, hungry and raw.

Her striking blue eyes meet mine, wide and bright as stars. There’s fear there, yes, but something else too—a hint of that same hunger, maybe.

“Sorry,” she breathes out.

“Think nothing of it,” I reply, gruff, as we untangle ourselves.

Later, the ship’s silence wraps around me like a shroud. Sleep’s a no-go, far out of reach. I wander to the galley, drawn like a moth to whatever flame burns in this endless night.

Lila’s there, a shadow against the glow of the food synthesizer. She turns, and I can make out every line of her athletic build, that practical braid of dark hair. She’s poured into clothes that are both armor and temptation—tight, functional, leaving little to the imagination.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, cutting through the quiet.

“Something like that.” My words come out rough.

We fall into an easy rhythm, side by side, dictated by the cramped space and the pull of something neither of us names.

“Your turn,” I say as I hand back an empty glass, careful not to touch her skin despite everything in me wanting to.

“Thanks.” A smile tugs at her lips, a silent challenge in those ocean-deep eyes.

I watch her move, grace in every step, a diplomat waging war with peace as her weapon. Sharp desire stabs into me.

I want to talk, to bridge this gap between us, but my mouth’s dry as a desert.

“Garoth?” she asks softly, probing, pulling me back from the edge of my wild thoughts.

“Tell me something about your Earth.”

And she does. She talks about oceans and forests, cities that never sleep. Her words paint pictures in the darkness, conjuring worlds. It’s like magic, and I’m caught in its spell.

The hours slip away, time losing meaning out here in the void. We sit there, warrior and diplomat, sharing stories of our separate lives, finding common ground in the emptiness of space. Her laughter is a melody, one I realize I’d fight wars to keep.

And beneath it all, beneath the banter and the shared smiles, the tension keeps building.

“Goodnight, Garoth,” she says eventually, rising like the dawn breaking.

“Night, Lila.” I nearly growl, feeling like a caged beast.

She leaves, and I’m alone with the ghosts of what-ifs and maybes. I stare out into the void, the stars cold and distant. But inside, there’s a fire building, fed by every glance, every word, every accidental touch.