Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

LILA

P articles of steam hiss against my skin, the air shower stripping away the sticky residue of our mingled sweat. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the cool mist envelop me, desperately trying to cleanse more than just my body. The memory of Garoth’s touch lingers, branding me with every pulse of air that cascades over my flesh.

It was incredible—the kind of sex you read about in the forbidden pages of a smuggler’s pulp novel. Garoth’s powerful body moving with mine and driving me into an orgasm faster than even my vibrator has been able to do.

But what now? My thoughts are colliding and sparking with fear and longing.

I can’t give in and have sex with him again. Yet, my body betrays me with a shiver, craving his touch once more.

He’s a bounty hunter, an orc with allegiance to those warlords who view my life as nothing more than a bargaining chip if at all. They had come for me, guns blazing through the hull of my diplomatic vessel, and all protocol and peace talks vaporized in an instant.

And when they came after me, shooting at both of us, he could’ve pushed me out the airlock and been done with me.

Except, he didn’t. He defended me. But he’s still not someone I can trust fully. He’s a bounty hunter and what if they offer a price he can’t refuse?

The air dries around me, leaving my skin tingling, and I step out of the cleansing fog, my braid heavy against my back. I wrap a towel around my athletic frame, not for modesty, but for warmth against the chill of uncertainty that clings to me tighter than any fabric.

What will Garoth do next? My heart pounds, each beat echoing the unanswered question. Will he see me as something more than a job?

Could he take me to the council, and stand by my side as I plead for peace and protection for my homeworld?

I shake my head cause as hard as I try to imagine that, I can’t.

Or he could be plotting to cast me off at the nearest spaceport? Would he look back as his ship vanishes leaving me behind like space dust?

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, the defiant blue in my eyes warring with the intelligence that screams caution. But there’s no harmony in this treacherous edge with desire and danger.

“This isn’t some cosmic romance. It’s survival.” Besides, I’m sure Garoth doesn’t have actual feelings for me. He must have slept with dozens of females and I’m just a notch in his belt. That as soon as he has his pay for ’rescuing’ me, he’ll be off with someone else.

Yet that thought makes my stomach twist.

I force my legs to move, to carry me back to the reality where star charts matter more than stolen kisses, where speeches could mean salvation or slaughter.

But hope, much like peace, is a fragile thing in a galaxy carved by conflict.

I’m pacing the length of Garoth’s ship, bare feet silent on the cool metal floor. The hum of the engine is a soothing backdrop to the thoughts raging in my head, where thoughts of him and what we did clash against my better judgment.

And I can still feel the ghost of his touch, the way he knew just how to bring me to the edge and over with an ease that left me breathless.

“Damn it,” I curse under my breath, rubbing at the tension knotting between my shoulder blades. So it was amazing sex…so what?

Focus on the mission! My people! Not get lost in those dark eyes that promise more than just heat between tangled sheets.

The door slides open with a whisper, and there he stands—Garoth, in all his towering, orcish glory. His presence fills the room like a tangible force, and for a moment, I’m caught in his gravity, unable to look away from him.

“Made dinner,” he grunts, holding out a tray. There’s something else too—a paper flower, delicate and oddly beautiful in his rough hands.

“Is that... for me?” I ask, surprised by the flutter in my chest. It’s such a human gesture, and it pierces through the layers of warlord and diplomat, striking straight at the woman beneath.

“Thought you’d like it,” he says and my heart squeezes harder. An orc, making me a flower—it’s ludicrous, touching, and completely out of place in this world of ours.

We sit to eat, and the food is surprisingly good, with rich flavors that speak of a home and warmth I’ve never known. But when he starts talking about his homeworld, about taking me there where I’d be safe, my spine stiffens.

“Safe? And what of my mission, Garoth?” I argue, feeling the weight of my responsibility like a mantle around my shoulders. “What of my people who look to me for guidance, for hope?”

“Your life is worth more than a mission,” he counters. “You cannot speak peace to those who only understand war.”

“Peace is all I have to offer!” I snap back, anger and fear mingling on my tongue. “I’m not a warrior, Garoth. I wield words, not weapons.”

We lock eyes and something unspoken crackles between us. It’s more than desire; it’s recognition—a mirror reflecting our struggles and doubts.

“I won’t run. I can’t hide while others suffer. That’s not who I am.”

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and I wonder if he sees the determination that’s carried me across the galaxy, or if he just sees a naive human girl playing at diplomacy.

“Garoth, you think whisking me away to your world is the answer? My people need me!” I shout, my words echoing in the cramped quarters of his ship. The metal walls seem to close in on us, trapping the heat of our argument like a pressure cooker.

He crosses those broad, muscled arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing. “It’s the only way to keep you safe, Lila,” he growls, and despite the anger, there’s a protective edge in his tone that tugs at something deep within me.

“Safe? And what about my mission? Peace is worth the risk!”

His scowl softens, just slightly. “I know you believe that...” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “But losing you isn’t an option for me.”

Those words hang between us, heavy as a supernova ready to burst. I feel his gaze, the weight of his concern. Despite everything—the danger, the differences—I see the truth. He cares. About me.

In a moment of impulsive recklessness—or maybe it’s raw desire—I close the distance, pressing my lips to his. The kiss starts gently, a question asked in the softness of our mouths meeting. But it doesn’t stay that way. It can’t be with Garoth.

He responds with a ferocity that ignites my blood, his hands tangling in my hair, releasing the braid so it falls around my shoulders. His touch scorches me, and I forget the war outside, the burden of diplomacy. There’s just him, here and now.

“Garoth,” I whisper against his lips, my heart pounding out a rhythm of want and fear. Want for this man, this moment. Fear for the future we can’t have.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmurs, his breath hot on my skin, and the plea cracks the last of my resolve.

“Tonight,” I agree, because that’s all we have—this stolen slice of time before reality crashes back in.

Our clothes are discarded like afterthoughts, lost in the urgency of skin seeking skin. The ship’s hum fades into the background as he lays me down, his body covering mine. It’s raw and powerful, the way he fills me completely, a connection that transcends bodies and breaches souls.

“Garoth,” I gasp, as he moves in me, a relentless force driven by a passion that matches my own. The sensation is overwhelming, a storm of pleasure that threatens to sweep me away.

“Look at me, Lila.” His tone is a command laced with tenderness, and I open my eyes to meet his. In them, I see the storm raging within him too, the silent confession that this is more than physical.

“Garoth,” I breathe out his name like a talisman as my climax rocks the very core of me.

After, as we lie entangled in the aftermath, I trace the bone ornaments in his braids, committing the feel of them to memory. I’ll carry this moment with me. But dawn comes too early.

“I have to go,” I whisper, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. They’re the truth, though—a truth I can’t escape any more than I can stop the rotation of the planets.

He doesn’t speak, but his arms tighten around me, a silent acknowledgment of the pain we both feel. It’s a beautiful agony, this love that cannot be, born amidst the stars and destined to burn out just as bright.

“Garoth,” I say, my heart shattering in my chest. For a moment longer, I let myself bask in his warmth, in the illusion that it could be different.

But illusions are for dreamers and I gave up my dreams when Earth blew apart in a million pieces and I could do nothing about it. But I can do something about my planet now and the people that took in us scattered humans like their own.

I allow myself a moment to hold the paper flower, to trace its folds and curves. It’s fragile like the possibility of us.

I set the flower aside. It’s just a distraction. He’s just a distraction. But even as I tell myself this, I know I’m already caught in the orbit in his orbit.

The ship’s console hums softly in the darkened cockpit, a lullaby of false security that I drown out with the drumming of my heartbeat. Blue and green lines arc across the holo-screen, star charts mapping out a cold, indifferent universe that doesn’t care about the turmoil churning inside me.

After I glance back at Garoth, who is sleeping, his deep breaths assuring me of that fact, I swipe at the screen, zooming in on a cluster of blinking lights not too far from here.

My fingers dance over the controls with practiced ease, plotting the coordinates with a precision that hides the turmoil of my emotions. Each tap is a step away from Garoth, from the intoxicating danger he embodies. The safety of distance is a bittersweet potion—I crave it even as it poisons me.

It’s a space weigh station, nondescript and neutral—perfect for disappearing. My chest tightens, and a tear escapes, tracing a hot path down my cheek. “This is for the best,” I whisper, but the words are a frail shield against the onslaught of what-ifs.

With trembling hands, I input the final commands, setting the autopilot with a betrayal that sears my soul. It’s done. The die is cast, and not even the stars can rewrite this fate.

I don’t look back as I move through the corridors. The ship seems to breathe around me, each creak and groan having me hold my breath. If Garoth wakes up and catches me, I won’t be able to leave. But he continues sleeping and I fight myself not to crawl into his bed with him and forget everything but him and me.

The transporter beam lights up a step from where I am.

“Garoth...” His name is a silent plea on my lips. The teleportation sequence initiates, and the cosmos swirls into a vortex of light, ready to swallow me whole.

The world shimmers and fractures, disassembling my atoms and casting them across the void.

When I materialize, the station is silent, devoid of warmth. My gaze locks onto the viewport just in time to see his ship—a sleek silhouette against the backdrop of distant stars—slip away into nothingness.

“Goodbye,” I choke out, the word is a shard of ice lodged in my throat. Tears blur my vision, carving tracks of sorrow on my face and I scrub them away.

The chill of the weigh station seeps into my bones, a cold reminder of the void Garoth’s ship has left in its orbit. I draw in a shuddering breath, my heart still raw from the self-inflicted wound of departure.

A flicker of movement to my left catches my eye. The inky blackness of space seems to shift, revealing the hulking silhouettes of massive ships emerging from the shadows. My breath catches in my throat as realization dawns.

“Stupid,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head. “You should’ve known they’d track you.”

I spin on the balls of my feet, ready to bolt, but the sight before me snuffs out any spark of hope.

Warlords.

Their towering forms, a terrifying blend of orc and troll, loom before me, muscles rippling beneath scarred, green-tinged skin. Their eyes, glowing with predatory intensity, fix upon me like targeting lasers.

Their towering forms cast shadows that stretch across the sterile floor like dark omens. One step, two steps—they close the distance with predatory ease.

“Didn’t think we’d let you slip away that easy, did ya?” The lead warlord’s tusks glint in the dim light as his lips curl into a cruel smirk.

“Bad move, sweetheart,” another one sneers, his grip iron as he clamps down on my arm, bone ornaments clinking ominously in his braids.

I wince, not at the pain, but at the realization that it isn’t just my safety hanging in the balance—it’s my people. All the lives I’m desperate to protect.

“Let me go,” I say steadily despite the tremor that threatens to betray my fear. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ah, but we already have,” the first warlord says, his crimson eyes glinting with malice. He leans closer, and I can smell the stench of blood on his breath. “Your hero won’t save you now.”

My heart clenches as I’m in the cold grip of the enemy.

“But I’m not exactly helpless.” I reach for my blast to realize I left it behind on Garoth’s ship.

“Brave words for a human,” he scoffs, and the other warlords chuckle. They’re so sure of themselves, so certain of their power.

“Bravery’s got nothing to do with it,” I retort, struggling against their hold. “It’s about doing what’s right, even when the odds are against you.”

“Right?” Another laugh, cruel and sharp. “You think your peace talks and little speeches can change the galaxy?”

“Better than living by the sword and dying by it,” I shoot back. It’s a gamble, provoking them like this, but if I can distract them, maybe I can find a way out—a door, a panel, anything.

“Enough!” The leader’s roar silences his comrades. His hand tightens around my arm, fingers digging into my flesh. “You’re coming with us. The warlord council will decide your fate.”

“Like hell they will,” I hiss, and with a swift, trained movement, I slam my heel down on his foot. He grunts in surprise, loosening his grip for just a second—but a second is all I need.

I wrench myself free, adrenaline surging through me, and I run.

“Get her!” one bellows, and suddenly it’s a maelstrom of muscle and fury converging on me. I dodge, weave, and fight with everything I’ve got, but it’s like battling a tidal wave with a teaspoon.

They overpower me, their meaty hands clamping down once more, dragging me toward their ship.

I strain against their hold, screaming.

My vision tunnels, and I know I’m doomed.

“Garoth,” I say again, and the world goes black.