Chapter 22

ATOX IM GRAK

Ihand Caju’s reins to Zendar and let him find a good spot for the gorjas to drink and graze while we visit Pen’Kesh. My female stands by my side, eyes darting in all directions as we move through the crowds. With so many beings here, the market can easily overwhelm a person. But Paloma has been to Pen’Kesh before.

“Why are we here?” she asks again, rubbing her palms against the sides of her tunic.

I don’t answer her. She needs to learn patience. And trust. I told her I would protect her. That is all she needs to know.

Unlike past visits to Pen’Kesh, I don’t spread muck on myself today. Paloma’s scent is so intoxicating that it helps me ignore the vile smells of the other humans, vints, and bantarans.

“They’re staring at us,” Paloma whispers.

Not us. Me. They are not accustomed to a clean orc. I flash my tusks, making several of them skitter back. I find satisfaction in keeping them off-balance.

“If the enemy stares at you, stare back. Advance on them, even. Show them your strength and they will often back down.”

“We are always taught to lower our eyes, not to challenge anyone.”

“You are orc now. To challenge is a right, to fight a privilege?—”

“And to die?”

Vekk, she has a way of cutting a male off at the balls. I stop in the middle of the market.

“You are mine, Paloma. No one will touch you, but me. Anyone who dares lay a hand on you will pay with his life.”

She nods. It will have to be enough for now. In time, she will accept that she belongs to me.

As we enter the human section of the market, my female tugs at her tunic. It reaches half way to her knees, more than enough coverage. She wore pants when I first took her. While many female orcs wear pants, I’ve not yet given her any. I like being able to feel her flesh beneath my hand when I want. All of her flesh. At my will, not hers. But the way she continues pulling at the leather leaves me on edge. I haven’t seen this behavior from her before.

I scan the market, looking to locate what makes her uneasy. Her people shake their heads as they whisper to one another while staring at my female.

“Please don’t give me back,” Paloma whispers.

My feet dig into the dirt and I grip her arm, turning her toward me. “Is that why you think we are here?”

She nods.

I’m at a loss, a rarity for me. I was raised to be decisive and stand behind my choices, right or wrong. Indecision is weak, and my grak, my father, did not tolerate weakness.

“You’re sleeping with a beast,” a human shouts at her.

“Traitor!”

“How could you?”

“Shameful.”

One by one, their voices become louder and more brazen as they fling their insults at my female.

“It wasn’t my choice,” she mumbles at my side, but says nothing to those condemning her. This is not the outspoken female I’ve come to know.

“Would you like me to slay them for you?”

Paloma’s eyes widen in horror. “You can’t kill them for taunting me.”

“I most certainly can.” But that doesn’t mean I will. Unless she requires it of me. I bare my tusks at the humans as a warning.

A smile crosses her face and she slides her hand into mine. My heart skips a beat. My mate reached out to me! That knowledge sits forefront in my mind as I glare at the humans scorning her.

“They’re not bad people, Atox. Not deep down.”

My mate is too kind toward a people who don’t deserve her. People who cast her out because they did not see her worth.

A growl rises from my throat. I won’t kill the humans for mere insults, but I will teach them to respect my female. And the way I teach respect to outsiders leaves them sore, bruised, broken, and bleeding, but alive. Negotiating with their leaders for future women will be significantly easier if I don’t kill their people. I am grak after all. I need to show some restraint.

“Atox, can you put me on your shoulders?”

My female makes an odd request for something I’ve never done for anyone except Ossa’s younglings when they were little. My female is light, though I don’t see the point of her request.

After removing my sword from my back, I lift my female by her waist and set her on top of my shoulders. She balances herself beautifully, leaving my hands free for my sword and knives, should I need them.

I’m not prepared for the intoxicating scent of her cunt riding against my neck. I toy with the idea of carrying her in front of me, where my mouth would be aptly positioned. My cock hardens, barely constrained by my loin cloth, but all eyes in the market are on my female, and not my cock. She’s drawn more attention to herself this way.

“What are you doing, female?”

“Making a statement. And looking to see if any of my sisters are here.”

“You have siblings?”

“Three sisters.”

“How do I not know this?”

“They were inside the house when you came for me. My father ordered them to stay out of sight. He feared for them. Not for me.” She shrugs. “And you’ve never asked.”

I’ve only looked at her as the female who would birth my younglings. Nothing more. I’ve been as callous as my father. I growl.

She slaps my head. “Stop that.”

I tilt my head back as far as I can without knocking her off me. “You will not hit me, female.”

“I didn’t hit you. I swatted you. There’s a difference.”

“You struck me. What you call it does not matter.”

“Maybe it’s foreplay.”

Vekk, now my cock is hard and I’m not sure how to proceed. I certainly won’t punish her for initiating sex.

“This is not the place to fuck.” I can find one rather quickly, however. Woods and caves surround the market. But I’m not quite sure if she is offering.

Blunt nails dig into my shoulders. “Is this more foreplay, female?”

She doesn’t answer. I catch the direction of her stare. The male who sold her to me, her father, stands across the market. I stop the growl before it leaves my throat, even though I remember quite vividly how he struck her the day she became mine.

“Can we leave, Atox?” Her voice shakes, her confidence gone. Her father has spotted her and is heading our way, with two males flanking him.

I pull her from my shoulders and set her down at my side. “Orcs don’t flee.”

“Paloma,” her father calls to her, stopping fifteen feet short of us. Wise, given how the last time we spoke, I broke his wrist.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Paloma pulls on my arm to get me moving. But as I already told her, orcs don’t flee.

“It doesn’t matter.” Councilman Garcia waves a dismissive hand at her, as if she is an insect he’s swatting aside, and looks at me. “I need to speak with the orc.”

“Grak,” Paloma corrects him, with a stern voice as she lifts her chin high. “His title is Grak. Use it, or risk insulting him. And me.”

I flash my tusks, both in support of my female and pride in her. “What do you want, human? Speak quickly. I have other business in Pen’Kesh today.” I have to remember his status and that he can end our agreement at any time, depriving my warriors the females I’ve promised them.

“We’ve had no more trouble from the vints this last week thanks to your warriors patrolling our border. We are considering hiring you to secure our border with the moxxels as well. As a sign of good faith I am offering you a smaller trade that will benefit you. Two women this time.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Paloma.”