Chapter 11

ATOX IM GRAK

“Where is she?” I demand of Daelix, who guards the entrance to Mount Racha’s tunnel system where nearly a third of my people live. The moon is high in the sky and only six fires burn at the base of the mountain, with a few dozen people drinking and talking.

“The outsider is in your chambers, Atox. I saw to her needs as I would any helpless animal,” my sister says behind me. I did not spot her at any of the fires. But I didn’t look for her either. Ossa is usually in her chambers with her younglings by now. I should have expected she’d ambush me like this.

“Your tone and words teeter on disrespect, Ossa.”

“Sojek told me what happened.”

“Did he return with the tools the moxxel owed us?”

“Yes. Did you think he wouldn’t?”

Why do all the females in my life think they have permission to talk to me thus?

“Sojek is responsible for his actions and has been dealt with accordingly.”

“The human?—”

“Will be my mate.” As grak, I have the privilege to interrupt, but others do not.

Nor do they have the right to judge me. As Ossa is doing. The ridges of her brow lift and her nose flares. She’s displeased with my choice of mate.

Taking a human female to give me younglings had been my idea, as a way of saving our species from extinction, but the humans had the final decision of which female they’d give me. I’d seen my female before, in Pen’Kesh.

Physically, she appealed to me more than any other human female I’d seen. I’d considered bargaining for her that very day, but then Ryko disobeyed orders and the human known as Lily went missing which in turn upset the humans. I was in no position to demand the female who’d caught my eye with her courage and curves.

And there arises the uncertainty surrounding this female. Why did the humans choose her for me?

Did they see me watching her? Did they think she would be in a better position to spy on me and my warriors if I wanted her?

I must reserve judgment of her, give her time to prove herself. To prove she is not here to spy for the humans.

“She smells, she’s ignorant of our ways, speaks in a strange tongue, and is too small to birth orc younglings,” Ossa continues complaining. I’m only half-listening to her, because what she says doesn’t change what must be. “Younglings that will be half-human, brother. If they survive birthing.”

“My younglings will survive. And you will not speak like this of my female to others, is that clear, Ossa? She and others like her are our future. We have so few younglings now and even fewer adult females for all the males we have. Warriors who deserve a female. One day your Sojek and Duvik will want females as well.”

“But a human, Atox?”

“If a human is good enough for me, then one will be good enough for your sons.”

Her mouth snaps shuts, but she grinds her tusks against her upper lip.

“Go, Atox. Claim your female and see if she can bear a youngling for you. And then you will see that this plan of yours will not save us.” Ossa turns, her braid whipping against me—intentionally—as she heads into the woods to clear the traps we use to catch small game.

I do not have the energy to pursue her, not that it would do any good. Ossa is a stubborn female, which is why she survived our father, why we all did. In some ways, she’s been a mother to me and Baxen after our father killed our mother. Perhaps that is why I let her speak to me as she does, because of all she endured as the eldest child of Narzik The Cruel.

Eager to claim my female, I move through the tunnels with renewed energy. The day has been long, the night even longer. After giving my female to Verig to escort to our settlement, I followed Fotak’s trail to a camp hidden on the outskirts of our territory. The embers from a fire were still warm, but there was no evidence of who had been there or what species. Someone has been watching my people and killed Fotak to keep their identity hidden.

When I push the door to my chamber open, I hear a cry which slices through me like a knife to the heart. The cry of my female. I should not worry over her, but I do. Too much is at stake here.

My female’s scent allows me to home in on her location. On the floor, between the bed and the door. With the slight glow of light discs in the tunnels behind me, my eyes take a moment longer to adjust to the pitch-black chamber.

“Aaatttoxxx?” Her tiny voice struggles with my name. I haven’t given her permission to call me by my personal name, but that discussion will wait.

“Vek,” I curse as I tap the light disc by the door. Dim light fills the chamber. My female isn’t sitting on the floor, she’s huddled there, pale, and shaking.

Quickly, I search the chamber for any sign that someone else is here, but the room and the few possessions I own are as I’d left them yesterday. The only possession of mine that is not fine is my female.

I crouch before her to examine her for wounds. Her face lifts. Stunningly dark eyes meet mine. The beauty there amazes me each time I look into her eyes, but I growl, disgusted at myself for being weak. Beauty is a false way of looking at the world, a trap that will weaken even the strongest of graks.

I lift her up, still amazed at how small and light she is, almost like a youngling, except she is clearly full grown. Her breasts, curves, and the slick folds I enjoyed touching atop my gorja leave no doubt. This female is ripe for bearing younglings.

As I gather her in my arms, she clings to me, burying her face between my neck and shoulder. I feel a protectiveness toward her. There is a vulnerability in her I hadn’t seen earlier.

Orcs detest vulnerability, and yet hers appeals to me. Perhaps because it is balanced by courage. This female stood up to me when we first met in the market and then again at the lake. Only the very foolish and very brave confront a grak.

This time, however, she does not seek to escape my hold. Something or someone has scared her, or she would not cling to me. Her arms clutch at mine, as if all the differences between our people—between us—no longer exist. In this moment, we are not enemies, or even orc and human, but male and female, two halves of a whole.

Holding my female without fighting gives me hope that taking other human females to save our species is the right move. From Ossa and Verig to the elders of our people, so many have voiced their concern and their contempt at diluting our genes. I held strong throughout the debates, despite my own misgivings. Showing any doubt, then or now, will destroy any chance of my plan working.

My female feels so small curled against me. As I sift through her hair, checking for wounds, she lifts her head, her face streaked with that wetness I saw earlier today.

“Are you injured, female?”

“I’m afraid of the dark.”

Fearing the dark? How very… weak. I cannot comprehend this. Will our younglings be as weak? My female will have to overcome her fears, like any other orc.

“We teach our younglings to ignore their fears or harness them to slaughter the enemy. Fear has no other purpose, than serving as a weapon.” I put my female on the bed and walk to my wall of weapons.

“I don’t want to fear the dark,” she says as I remove my weapons harness and scabbard and hang them on an empty hook.

I stand in the middle of my chamber, debating what to do. I have too much invested in this one female. And she smells so vekking good. I draw my forefinger to my mouth, licking it for what has to be the hundredth time since I ran it through her slick folds. The taste of her is long gone, but not the memory. I will not give up on her.

“What are you doing?” she asks, cocking her head, no longer shaking. Once I engaged the light discs, she calmed.

“You will not fear the dark,” I say.

“You can’t order a person to stop fearing something.”

“I certainly can. I am grak. Cease this behavior. It is dangerous and weak.”

“Like me?” she shoots back with a challenge to her voice. Her fire has returned.

I plan to get burned.

“Pash,” I say, shutting the lights with a simple command, thrusting the chamber into complete darkness.

“W-why did you do that?”

“You will conquer your fear.”

“Which one?”

“You have more than one? Vekk, this will not do, female. You are to birth my younglings. I need a strong female.”

“Cl-clearly you got cheated. R-return me and get what you need. Or l-let me leave. I’ll find my way home on my own.”

“You’d return to a people who do not want you?” I understand this female less and less the more I get to know her. But I cannot return her, even if I wanted to. Her people saw no value in her. They may turn her away into the dangers of Kovos or sell her again. I cannot allow that. Even the weakest member of a species deserves to live. Sojek will never be a warrior, but he has many good qualities. I cannot list them out as I do not know them, but he has them. Ossa tells me this nearly weekly.

“I don’t want you touching me. Not… not until…” My female takes a deep breath, then shudders. “I’m not ready, Atox. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” she adds, her voice barely audible.

Frustration mounts within me, and I’m not sure what to do. “You do not have permission to use my name, female,” I lash out at her.

“And you don’t have permission to touch me.”

“I don’t need permission. You are my mate.” In two strides, I reach the bed in complete silence. An orc doesn’t need much light, but even I cannot see right now. I can scent her, rather well, enough to determine she moved away from the edge where I placed her.

My hand shoots out, snags her ankle, and I yank her to the edge of the bed.

“Don’t!” she yells and kicks, catching me in the shoulder.

My cock hardens at her fire. “Fight me, female. It will change nothing. You are mine and I will never let you return to the humans.”

With that, I run my hands along her legs. I’ve never touched anything so soft, except the lodi petals that grew on the vines outside my home on Orcos. I’ll never run my fingers along those flowers again, but this flower before me, the one who defies me at every turn, will become my sanctuary.

“Please, don’t,” she cries out, her voice shaking. From the dark or from my touch, I’m unsure, but her words stop me. I’ve never had a female who refused my touch. Taking a female against her will is easily done, but against our laws and the mark of a weak male, which I am not.

“There is that word again, the one that shows respect,” I say, giving myself a moment to plan my course.

“Yes,” she says, her voice still wavering. Then she clears her throat, and with more strength, adds, “I respect you, Atox. Please don’t touch me.”

“If you respect me, you will not deny me.” I’m losing patience with her, even as I release my hold on her and rise. She scurries as far from the edge as she can get, taking her sweet scent with her, denying me more than her flesh.

I pace my chamber, not sure what to do about her.

“If you respect me, you won’t force me,” she adds, the clever vegga.

Respect her? I nearly laugh. How can anyone respect a human… a human female at that? And yet the very fact that she demands respect intrigues me. She is quite different from orc females. Ossa never demands respect. She takes it, like the daughter of any grak would. This female though does not take what is not hers, and yet she expects to be given it. Absurd.

“You will deny me my release?”

A grak relies on respect or he has no real power. Warriors sacrifice their lives on my orders because they respect me. That is the loyalty I want from this female, yet she demands the same.

“Find your release with someone who wants it. Someone who will respect you for it.”

Her challenge hardens me further and yet something about her reminds me of my younger days when I trained gorjas. There was a time to ease back on training, so one did not break the gorja’s spirit. Perhaps mating a human requires a similar approach.

“I do not need to respect you,” I remind her.

“No, you don’t. But I will hate you with everything I have if you force me. I’ll never stop hating you. And I’ll never give you any younglings. I promise that. Wouldn’t you rather have a woman who cooperates? Let me leave. Tell my people I died from eating something poisonous. Ask them for another woman, one who wants to be here. And when you enter New Earth, make sure you’re clean and smell good. Show them who you really are, Atox. A male who cares about his people. Find a woman who wants a male who tells her what to do. Because that’s not me,. I want a male who will respect me and give me reason to respect him. I want a partner, not an owner. I’ll never be the submissive woman you want.”

“A mate is meant to soothe, comfort, be an ally when all others turn against a male. A mate should accept a male even when he fails.”

The idea of having a submissive female no longer appeals to me. I want this female, with all her fire and obstinance. She has heart and passion, and vek me, but I want a mate who challenges me, who cares enough to stand up to me. Like a neld, the second to a grak, only one who shares my furs and won’t condemn me for my weaknesses. A true mate.

I take a deep breath, pulling her scent into my lungs. It has changed, no longer tainted with fear, only determination.

“Your ways are different, Paloma.”

“You called me by my name.” Surprise fills her voice.

“I don’t want to be like my father, a grak who only knew how to usurp and destroy, but what I do, I do to protect my people.” And maybe myself. “I cannot let you go.”

Silence. She doesn’t move.

“I don’t belong here, Atox,” she says at last, her voice softer, but without acrimony.

“Grak. You will call me Grak.”

If she’s nodding, I cannot see it in the dark.

“Tell me, female, why did you not turn on the lights in my chamber, especially if the dark scares you?”

“You’re assuming I knew there was a light disc. A woman pushed me in here and closed the door. I didn’t know where I was or what dangers were in here. If I stepped away from the wall, I could have fallen into a pit. Then…”

She hesitates. I don’t have much patience for fear of any nature, especially fear of me. I’ve proven myself to be a just grak, nothing like my father. At least this is what I believe. Perhaps my people follow me out of fear which they hide from me. Ossa would tell me if that were the case, would she not? Vekk, I don’t know. Perhaps she fears me, too.

“Speak. I will never punish you for telling the truth.”

“Only for being weak.”

“I do not punish weakness. But I do not reward it either.”

“That is… fair.”

“Then finish explaining what happened here before I arrived.”

“I thought I heard someone in here with me. But I guess it was my imagination. Or my memory.”

“Explain.”

“When we were traveling here from Earth, a cendagi sent me down to the cargo hold for an extra temperature gauge for the engines. I descended the ladder and started routing through the storage bins looking for the part. The lights went out. I called out, but no one answered. I thought it was a power failure until I heard someone moving toward me. I was…” A slight cry escapes her and an anger rises in me as I do not need the details to know another has hurt her.

“I was thrown to the ground. When I screamed, he struck me several times. I started to black out, but then I grabbed a tool from the floor. I think I knocked over a bin when I fought him. I struck him with whatever it was and he fell on me. Dead or unconscious, I couldn’t tell. I pushed him off and ran. Somehow, I found the ladder and escaped. By the time I got my father to listen to me and report it to the guards, the guy was gone. I don’t even know if the guy who attacked me was human or cendagi. But I remember the terror and the sickly smell of fetid water, like from a marsh.”

My fists clench and my muscles knot with the need to punch someone, preferably a cendagi. They often smell of swamp water, as it is where they bathe. Their ships even had a swamp aboard, with special anti-grav generators for the water.

For attempting to take what wasn’t his and instilling such fear in my female, one day I will find that cendagi and tear him apart limb by limb, starting with his cock. But my first priority is addressing my female’s fear.

“Along the wall of my chamber, I’ve driven hooks into the smaller cracks. Wind often travels through the cracks, moves my weapons enough to grate against the stone. This is what you heard. You will acclimate, female. It takes time, like when we all arrived on Kovos.”

The bed shifts as she returns to the edge. “Perhaps we can reach an agreement, Grak.”

“Your people agreed to trade. One female in exchange for protection against the vints. I’ve already sent several of my warriors to secure New Earth’s perimeter.”

“You reached an agreement with them, but not with me.”

I admire her logic, but it does not apply here. “They gave you to me, and now you are mine.”