Chapter 29

PALOMA

“Ican’t have sex in front of others,” I protest. The need to escape and avoid this ceremony grows exponentially with every mile closer we come to Mount Racha. “It’s humiliating.”

“It’s natural,” my future husband says.

“Sex is natural. Having an audience isn’t.”

His hand snakes under my tunic. I smack it through the tunic, but that doesn’t dissuade him from thumbing my nipple. He chuckles, which might normally soften me to him, but this whole public sex thing terrifies me.

“Getting me all revved up won’t make me say yes.”

“You no longer want me?” he says, no teasing in his voice, just surprise.

“I want you, Atox and I’d beg you if I thought that would work, but it would probably make you think less of me.”

“Orcs don’t beg.”

“Which is why I’m trying to use logic. Or are you going to tell me orcs don’t use logic?”

“We do. When it’s to our advantage. If you fear this, I’ll use the same tactic I employed after I discovered you feared the dark.”

“Make love to me in the dark? Yes, let’s do that. No one will see anything.”

“That was to help you confront your fear, Paloma. You learned not to run from the dark. And you will not run from this, not if you wish to be my mate.”

“Atox, I just can’t. Not if anyone’s watching.”

“There is no risha without my top warriors to witness.”

I swallow. Hard. “That’s not logic. It’s a threat.”

“It is our law. Risha must be witnessed. You will not be harmed.”

He’s always reminding me that he’ll protect me. I believe him, but it doesn’t remove the humiliation awaiting me.

Atox lays his arm across me, pulls me close, and nuzzles my ear. “This is tradition, Paloma. There is no shame if you don’t allow it. Our people will not think less of you.”

Ourpeople.

There is no good argument against cultural norms, not without insulting him and his people. Our people.

We approach the camp. Nothing will save me from this, unless I say I don’t want him. But I want him, with all of my being.

Atox presses his mouth against my ear. “Hold your head high like the orc you are.”

I’m not orc.

Then, as if sensing my thoughts, he kisses the back of my neck and leans his head against mine. “You are as strong as any orc I know, Paloma. Don’t let your fear control you. I need you, more than I ever thought I would need anyone. Be strong for me and accept me into your body for my warriors to witness. And then we will be one.”

As we reach the last section of trees before the mountain, the hairs on my arms stand on end. I don’t mean to, but I dig my nails into his thighs where I’m holding on.

“You are strong,” he whispers in my ear.

“Can you blindfold me?”

“You must see the male who claims you.”

“I want to see you and only you. I don’t want to know others are watching.” I stop short of admitting I’m afraid, because that would be the equivalent of saying I don’t trust him to protect me.

“And you will keep your eyes open,” he adds as he slides from the gorja.

I’ve run out of things to say without making myself look weak and that’s the last thing I want. Well, almost the last. Sex before an audience… I’ll die of shame before we finish. Then his warriors will see I’m not right for him.

The weak human.

The inferior human.

Atox lifts me from the gorja and sets me on the ground beside him. The camp has been cleared of children, with only a few women tending to the late-night fires. They glance my way then head into the mountain.

Everyone knows.

This is why he sent Verig ahead.

Five huge orcs remain in the center of the camp.

Warriors.

Witnesses.

Their stares fall on me. All strangers to me except for Verig. Somehow, this would be easier if I didn’t know any of them.

The warriors part, revealing a stone platform that wasn’t there earlier. It’s table-high, and smooth, with ropes piled on top. My mind goes places it shouldn’t. The shaking overtakes me and my knees buckle, but Atox catches me.

“There is no other way,” he whispers, his breath warming my ear, calming me as he picks me up and slings me over his shoulder.

ATOX IM GRAK

My female wishes toavoid the ceremony. I wonder if this is a difference in our cultures or if she’s reconsidering her choice of males. Does she not understand the importance of this night? Of how this will give her status and protection?

No male will dare touch a grak’s mate. To do so means death. But for a grak to take a mate, he must prove he can master her body, that she will submit to him.

His touch. His wisdom. His rule.

And yet I find myself wanting to submit to her.

The way she trembles worries me. This is not typical of a female entering the risha ceremony. Once again, I have to remind myself that humans hold different customs.

My warriors scrutinize me and my female. From the start, Brix and Parlok objected to my plan to mate a human. Kes remained silent. Still to this day, I don’t know if he favors having females from other species mix with our people. And Tulax… the male still mourns the loss of his female and younglings. I won’t press him to take a mate, though he’s earned that right.

Verig stands to the side, as if he plans to leave instead of bearing witness. I do not know his thoughts either, and that is dangerous. A grak should fully trust and know what his second is thinking at all times.

As he should with his mate.

The moment I swing her over my shoulder, I know something is wrong. She doesn’t fight me or pound her small fists against my back. When I reach the risha platform, I set her on her feet. Paloma’s eyes turn down. She doesn’t meet the eyes of my warriors as a female in risha should. This is her claiming as much as it is mine.

My men circle us but give us room. They will not touch or disrespect her, because if they do, I’ll kill them. And they know it.

I lift my female onto the table until my face is even with hers. With one finger beneath her chin, I tilt her head up. She has no trouble looking at me.

“I won’t cry,” she says, her words strained.

The statement startles me. In that moment, I understand, if we are to bring humans into our lives, then they are not the only ones who must adapt. We must change, too.

“You will look at me, and only me, Paloma,” I say as my fingertips slide over her cheek. So soft, and beautiful, like all of her, especially the female within.

She nods but utters no more words as she waits for me to guide her.

I push the front of her hair out of her eyes. Her brows furrow, but her attention remains on me as I undress. My weapons fall to the ground with a soft thud. My loin cloth falls next. Her eyes widen at that.

I pick up the risha knife atop the platform. It is longer than a throwing knife, but not by much. Paloma shows no fear as I hold the knife against her throat. I wasn’t sure how she would react, but I’m pleased she trusts me.

The edge of the knife cuts along her tunic, splitting it down the middle. My cock rises in anticipation, but it’s not as hard as I expected, because the shadow of fear returns to her face as she glances over my shoulder at my men. I’m failing her. The entire point of the ceremony is to prove not only to my men that she’s worthy of me, but to prove to her that I’m worthy of her.

“You keep shredding my clothing, Atox. Do you know how hard it is to find clothing to fit me?”

“I will get you whatever you need, mate. But I would not object if you walk around naked.” My compliment doesn’t ease the concern in her face. “Tell me how to guide you. This ceremony is for you as well as me. To bond us as one.”

“We’re not alone,” she whispers. “Distract me. Make me forget they’re watching.”

“Watching? Mate, there is no one here in our chamber but the two of us.”

“Our chamber?” her eyes look up at the brilliant stars above.

“I’ve added a skylight,” I say, helping to take her mind off of where we truly are. “And I’ve made sure there is light for you. No darkness.” I point my knife to the nearby fire. The flames lick at the sky, sending a soft glow over Paloma’s face as I peel the remnants of her tunic off her beautiful body.

“Skylight, huh?”

“So you may see the stars and know I’d give them to you if I could. You need only ask.” That gains me a smile. And her eyes now focus on me. Not the warriors watching us. Not even the stars.

“This bed is harder than I recall,” she says, playing along.

“Ah, well, that is my fault, mate. I forgot to place the furs down to make it soft for you. I will correct this behavior next time.”

I cup her breast in my hand. Heavy, fleshy, beautiful. With a simple tug from two fingers, her nipple hardens for me. My thumb runs over the dusty pink peak as brown eyes lock on me.

“Tell me, Paloma, what shall we do tonight?”

This isn’t supposed to be an exchange. I’m to take her in the traditional manner, from behind, then knot her, keeping all my seed inside while my warriors witness. But for her, I will alter tradition enough to help her enjoy the ceremony. And she will enjoy it; I will find a way to ensure that.

“I don’t know,” she says.

“Then I will decide for you.” I part her legs and press my mouth against her folds. To my surprise, she’s wet for me. I lick her from her core to the bundle of nerves that control her pleasure.

When my female digs her nails into my hair, I tilt my head back to look at her. “Open your eyes, Paloma.” This part is non-negotiable. My warriors need to see into the soul of my female, to know she’s true and pure.

“Atox…”

“Do you trust me, Paloma?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitating. It warms my heart. A grak shouldn’t need a female, shouldn’t have to depend on her, and yet I find myself inexplicably falling under her spell.

“Look at them, Paloma. Each warrior here has sworn his life to me, and by extension to you. They are mine to control, as I am yours to control.