Chapter 8

PALOMA

For the first time since I left Earth, I feel free as gloriously cool water swallows me whole. I don’t panic, but I can’t hold my breath forever. It has to be that weightlessness and the silence under the water that calms me. No males yelling at me, no one demanding my attention. Just a chance to float without any worries for a few bliss-filled seconds.

Then a hand, that overly large hand I can still remember wrapped around my throat, curves around my waist and pulls me to the surface. I’m not ready to return to a reality where I’m not wanted except for my reproductive organs.

“Breathe, female.”

Is that a note of concern in his voice? No, not from this orc. Not for me.

A hand sinks into my hair, pulls back to lift my head up and away from the water. As the sun warms my face, his arm loops across my ribs to keep me afloat.

His hold on me is filled with something I can’t quite identify. There is safety in his touch, safety I never expected from an orc. From this orc.

I right my head and look at him, our faces mere inches apart. The ridges on his brow ease. For the first time, I see beauty in his features. His skin is a rich, medium green that reminds me of maple leaves. While his nose is wider and larger than a human nose, it balances the ridges of his forehead rather nicely. A male this powerful, with thighs thicker than tree trunks and arms so massive I can’t fit both hands around them, would look silly with a small nose. And his mouth, it is the most human part about him, except for those tusks. Two white tusks jut out from his lower mandible, overlapping the upper lip and almost reaching his nose. I’m tempted to touch one, to see what it feels like, but I don’t dare. That would be too familiar, and that is the last thing I want from him.

“I ordered you to breathe.”

His voice, as stern as ever, moves something in me and I exhale the breath I’ve been holding. Then a giggle escapes me. I slap my hand over my mouth. If anyone could get a drowning victim to start breathing by ordering her, it would be this orc, but he did jump in to save me. Granted, I wouldn’t have been in danger of drowning if he hadn’t tossed me in to begin with.

“My apologies, orc,” I say with sincerity though I can’t quite contain my laughter. After days of stress and feeling as if my life has ended, I’m laughing again.

“Why do you laugh?”

“I know how to swim. I wasn’t drowning.”

The orc’s eyes widen and then narrow. He probably thinks I’m mocking him.

“You sank like a rock. You nearly reached the bottom by the time I found you.”

“I was shocked to hit the water like that. But it felt good. It’s been a long time since I’ve been allowed to swim. I wanted to enjoy the water for a minute, to feel free one last time.”

Damn, much of the tension from earlier is gone and I realize why. I’m on a natural high, from the adrenaline rush of being thrown in the water. I needed that.

And maybe seeing another side of this orc who terrifies me. He jumped in to save me.

A sublime scent catches my attention. I draw the smell into my lungs, despite being so close to the orc, only to realize the scent is his. It was all that dirt, and maybe all the stories I’ve been told as well, about orcs wallowing in their own filth, that made me think of them as animals.

I inhale again. Deeper this time. Sticking my nose in a bouquet of roses couldn’t smell any better than this orc. I actually… like it. Too much. I wade my way closer to him.

“You are free, female. But you are mine.”

My heart falls at his words. “You don’t understand freedom, orc.”

“You will call me Grak.”

This is the first time he’s spoken to me without issuing an order. The longer this day drags on, the more I learn about my people, the orcs… and myself. I’m tired of being afraid. If I cannot escape this male and his people, then I need to fight for what rights I can.

“Grak? It’s a…” Nice name? Eh, maybe, to an orc. “A strong name.” I throw in a nod to show my approval.

“Grak is not—” He stops mid-sentence to take a knife out from the leather straps across his chest. I bob in the water, wondering if I can out-swim him. Then he slams the flat side of his blade against his chest, over his heart before sheathing it.

“Was that a salute of some sort?”

“Your Grak honors you, female. Return to shore,” he orders, as gruff as ever.

Against all sense of self-preservation, I reach up and touch the spot behind his right ear. Given Grak’s thicker skin, I nearly miss the hard lump of a language chip there. He’s been speaking in English, so it makes sense he has a language implant, but there are times like now that he refers to himself as Grak instead of using a pronoun. I guess these language implants aren’t perfect.

“I wasn’t sure you had a language chip,” I explain as I remove my hand.

“All of our top warriors have them. It became necessary when we realized we were not alone on Kovos.”

“You came here without knowing there were other species?”

“We did not have a choice. This is where the cendagi programmed the ships to land when we fled Orcos. We did not have a fleet or pilots to fly ships.”

“Fled? I didn’t think orcs fled anything.”

His eyes flare. Shit, I’ve insulted him. I turn to swim back to the shore when I notice the other orcs there. “I want to go home, Grak. To my people. Surely there’s another way to repopulate your species?”

“We are your people now, Paloma,” he says in a low voice.

Another moment of understanding stretches between us. Neither of us wanted this. Duty, obligation, maybe even fate, threw us together. He didn’t take me to harm me, and maybe my father didn’t betray me out of hate, even though it feels like that. This orc, this massive male who keeps saying I’m his, may not be the enemy, but that doesn’t mean I have to cooperate with him. His goals and mine do not align. How do I make him understand that?

Grak plucks a leaf from my hair, and then his fingers trail down my cheek, barely grazing my skin. I see a softness in his eyes. He’s not a monster, just another being trying to survive Kovos.

A noise on the shore lifts Grak’s chin. He tilts his head slightly, his ears taking in his men standing at the water’s edge, listening, watching us. When his eyes don’t leave me, it feels like we are a team and his men are the enemy. That false sense of belonging shatters into a million pieces as he grabs me by my blouse and swims ashore.

“Grak, where did you find her?” the tallest of the orcs asks in English. They all have language chips, but this is the first they’re speaking so I can understand them.

“Hiding.”

I noticed he doesn’t say where.

“Take her.” Grak shoves me in the direction of the youngest of the orcs, the male who had been driving the cart. He’s standing apart from the warriors.

“Vip oska agatti, dox?” the young orc asks me.

Okay, then, I’m not the only one without a language chip.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” I reply.

He’s younger and smaller than the warriors. In some ways, he reminds me of Renata, my youngest sister. Probably because he has that innocence about him mixed with the desire to please those around him, as if he’s struggling with adulthood. And he has a fresh cut on his cheek, straight and long. It looks too clean to have been from a tree branch. Either way, it’s clear he got hurt while looking for me. I reach up to wipe a spot of blood away.

His mouth opens slightly, then he reaches out and touches my face, mirroring my actions.

Before I can register what’s happening, the male is lying flat on the ground and Grak has his sword tip to the male’s cheek.

“You don’t touch what belongs to me.” Grak slices the young male’s cheek, a fraction of an inch from the other wound. A matching cut.

It all sinks in. Grak punished him earlier for my escape.

A mixture of horror and rage swirl together inside me. He hurt this orc—a male I’m more and more convinced is a teen—all because I escaped. I hadn’t even escaped! I’d merely hidden beneath the hay.

I charge at Grak, who turns in time to move his sword away. The male is quicker than me. I would have impaled myself without intending to.

Grak sweeps my feet from under me, knocking me on my ass with very little effort. The sword tip now rests against my cheek.

“You do not question your grak. You do not interfere with his rulings. And most of all, you obey me. Is that clear, female?”

When I don’t answer, the tip of Grak’s sword moves under my chin and guides my head up to look at him. Those hulking muscles ripple with restraint as he holds the sword, awaiting my answer. He snarls showing off the long white tusks, reminding me that he is more beast than man. But his eyes, dark green with black dots swirling in agitation, don’t hold the full breadth of his anger as I had expected.

Despite having a sword at my throat, I’m not shaking. He wouldn’t kill me minutes after diving into the lake to rescue me. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. Perhaps it’s how he looks at me with… hope.

Carefully, I touch the flat edge of the sword with the utmost respect that it deserves, mostly because I’m not ready to give Grak the respect he demands. I let my finger slide down the smooth steel, almost caressing it as I admire the beauty of the finely crafted blade.

As I slide my finger up and down, the image of Grak’s naked body enters my mind. His cock was massive. If I give in to his demands, he’ll hurt me. He’s simply too big. But there’s more to this male than his size and he tried to share it with me when he turned his back on me and entered the water. He wanted me to see those scars.

Why?

A back full of scars, but only a few on his front. Combat scars would be random, different sizes and depths, like those on his chest. The ones on his back were too perfectly spaced, similar to the ones on his right cheek.

The same as the two on the young orc’s right cheek.

There’s so much I don’t know about these beings and I don’t want to know more. I just want to go home.

They don’t want you. Your sire sold you to us because he saw no value in keeping you.

The truth hurts. But sometimes, it’s what a person needs to hear.

Even if that person is an orc.

“You think because someone cut your back and face that you can do the same to this kid? You’re wrong, Grak,” I say as I rise. “That abuse won’t get you the respect you want. You’ll only cause him the same pain you experienced.”

“Pain shapes an orc. Sojek will learn from his mistakes. When he touches the scars on his face, he will remember those lessons. As for you, female?—”

“He was injured. I wanted to help him.”

“Female,” he continues with a slight growl. “I don’t like asking questions twice. Will you obey me?”

“What will you do to me if I don’t?” I temper my voice. Grak looks irritated, but not enraged. I’m not sure I could handle that side of him.

Handle? One does not handle an orc. I am so screwed.

Grak sheathes his sword. “You will obey me. As for your punishment, I will render that when we reach our territory.”

Oh, God, I struck him earlier out of anger and reflex. I’m his according to a treaty, and that’s all he recognizes. The fact that I never agreed to any of this has no bearing for him.

“I only tried to help him,” I reply, trying to sound strong, but I’m failing. Miserably. I might not be able to save myself, but perhaps I can help the young orc. “You can’t blame him for my escape, especially since I didn’t technically escape. I hid.”

Grak raises a brow. “Sojek was punished because he touched you, without permission. No one touches what is mine.”

ATOX IM GRAK

“It was an innocent touch,you brute! He didn’t harm me,” my female shouts at me, once again forgetting that I will not be disrespected. Or perhaps it is intentional. I cannot be sure what game she plays, but I see the flashing of my warriors’ tusks. They expect me to control her.

“Sojek, take the cart and proceed to Pen’Kesh. Pick up the tools that thieving moxxel owes us. Baloc and Telin will accompany you.”

Sojek’s eyes dart to Bazok and then Telin. “What do I do if the moxxel does not listen to me, Grak?”

“You will convince him. Bazok and Telin have their duties, which does not include overseeing you.”

Sojek may be young and inexperienced, but he is orc and shares my blood. He has greatness in him, if only he would focus more. He will not fail me, but neither will I put him in a situation in which he cannot prevail.

My warriors will intervene if Sojek endangers himself, though they are there mainly in case any vints cause trouble. Vints move and attack in packs. Sojek does not have a warrior’s skills to survive such an encounter.

“I will not fail you, Grak,” my nephew says as he slams his knife to his chest, his face stern and his eyes so like his mother’s.

I walk away from Sojek and the cart without smiling or acknowledging him, treating him as I would any of my warriors. He needs to earn my respect and that of my men. Coddling him will achieve neither goal. Even before the fighting broke out on Orcos, Gerell had been too soft with Sojek and his youngest son Duvik. Moxxels are temperamental and insulting, but Sojek needs this opportunity to prove himself, even if he never becomes a warrior.

“The female will ride on my gorja with me. Where I can control her better. Verig will scout ahead.”

“Atox,” Verig calls to me. “I thought this would be a good time to speak, before we reach home.” He returned earlier than expected, with a big fat sumaz tied to the back of his gorja.

Outside my siblings, Verig is the only orc permitted to use my personal name. It is a courtesy I extended to him after he saved my life on Orcos.

“We can speak. She will not repeat anything you say.”

“I will speak in our tongue, to be sure.”

I level a hard look at him and realize he is right to be cautious. We cannot trust my female. She’s already shown her cunning and desire to escape. This is why she will ride with me.

“Where are the others going?” my female asks when Sojek, Bazok, and Telin peel away.

Can you at least use my name? It’s Paloma.

Even her name sounds so alien. My people need to accept her and the idea that our progeny will not be fully orcan.

“Pen’Kesh,” I reply. She did not understand our conversation. Her not having a language chip works to my benefit as she will be even more dependent on me when we reach our territory.

Sojek turns the cart in a wide circle and heads east toward Pen’Kesh. He’s a reminder that not all orcs are strong. My mate stands here shivering as the evening air cools. She and her people are nothing like us physically, but the cendagi assured us that we will be able to produce younglings together. Younglings my people will raise, with our ways, our culture, even if they are not as strong. We’ll make up for any physical failings with our increased numbers in time.

“Come, female,” I say, lifting her and setting her on my gorja. Caju snorts and whips his head when he scents her. My mount settles quickly, accepting my female as easily as I did. Because neither of us has a choice.

I hoist myself up behind my female and pull her against my chest as I grip the reins. The moment I touch her, her back straightens and she leans forward to keep from touching me. With those short legs of hers, she won’t be able to hook her feet against the notches on Caju’s sides. She’ll need to secure herself by leaning against me, but I can already see she’d rather fall and risk breaking her neck than touch me.

With pressure from my knees, my gorja lurches forward and my female, unprepared for the jolt, grabs hold of my thighs to keep from falling. Instantly, my cock hardens.

Her hands leave my thighs and her back stiffens as she regains her balance. Though she’s not used to the undular motion of a gorja, she refuses to lean against me.

The wind shifts and her scent, even more delectable after her time in the lake, fills my nostrils and imprints on my brain. No doubt remains; she is mine. I’ve waited a vekking long time for a female and a chance to have younglings. She needs to accept her fate with me, since I will not give her up.

“Your name, female. What does it mean?”

“Do you really care, Grak? Even if I tell you, I’ll still be your slave, won’t I?”

Krike, this female is difficult. “Must you challenge me on everything? It was a simple question. I do not know much about humans?—”

“Clearly.”

I grab what I can of her hair and pull her head back against me. “I will not be interrupted by you or any other.”

She yanks out of my hold. “Respect is earned. Not ordered. Or negotiated.”

Her tongue is as sharp as her wit, and I do not understand why she harbors such wrath toward me. I offer her shelter, food, protection, and if she can bear my younglings, the honor of becoming my graka. It is more than her people would give her.

“Orcs do not sell their own,” I say, striking to the heart of the matter.

Her shoulders sag.

“Giving up already, female? I thought you’d last at least until tonight.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“When I fall asleep after taking you, it will be the perfect opportunity for you to slit my throat.”

She turns so swiftly, that she loses her balance and nearly topples off my gorja. With one arm, I snag her waist and pull her tightly against me. This time, I keep my arm around her, enjoying her soft flesh against my hard muscles. In time, she will learn that her survival, her very life, depends on me.

“If you think I’m going to kill you in your sleep, then why keep me? I’m not worth the risk.”

She’s wrong about that, but I recognize hate when I hear it. This female truly doesn’t want to be with me or my people.

Too bad.

I need her.

It’s possible I’m going about this wrong. When training a gorja, one must get to know it, not merely break it, or one risks breaking its spirit in the process.

“You did not answer my question. What does your name mean?” I ask.

“It’s just a name.”

“Orc names carry meaning. They imbue the spirit of those who came before us.”

“We focus more on the here and now, not our past.”

Humans care little for their past or their future, giving away life-giving females such as this one. I do not understand this way of thinking. “Your people have no soul.”

“And you have no heart.”