Chapter 1

Roxanna

When I was a wee lassie, my nurse used to try to frighten me with tales of yore, when monstrous beasts would come through the standing stones to raid and pillage.

"Eat your neeps, my lady, or the orcs will get you. Hush your wailing and go to sleep, or I will leave you out for the orcs."

I never believed her, because I was smarter than that.

I knew there was no such thing as monstrous raiders, no such thing as circles of standing stones which would allow the fabric between our worlds to go thin once a month on the night of the full moon. No such things as orcs .

I was wrong.

If I could go back in time to speak to that nurse again, I would tell her she was right and every little lass should be terrified…Och, nay, I would likely kick her in the shins again and run to hide beneath my bed. She was a grumpy old woman.

But the point is: I left my father's safe keep to travel with my older sister Sorcha to her wedding with the neighboring laird. The night before we arrived, our escort left us in a deserted crofter's hut, conveniently near a circle of standing stones.

The bastard had taken gold to turn my sister over to them .

Of course, we didn't know it at the time. I curled up in the single bed with Sorcha on one side, my arms around our gentle, petite cousin Effie. She had been sent along to act as Sorcha's lady's maid, since her mother had married so far beneath her, and was nervous about her first foray into the world.

When the screaming began, I couldn't protect her.

I sat up in bed, frantically looking for Sorcha, but she was already outside. The light from the full moon streamed through the ruined roof, making it possible to see Effie's wide-eyed look of terror as she scooped up the scroll and began to roll it.

How like our sweet cousin; we were under attack, and she thought only of Sorcha's prized possession, the book we had been reading last night. Last night, when a lifetime of possibilities lay before us and we could joke about which positions our future husbands might choose from the Harlot's Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts to pleasure us.

"Effie," I hissed, grabbing her hand and pulling her from the bed. "Stay down. Stay hidden."

But the bellowing and the clash of weapons from outside was too much to resist. Despite my cautionary words, we both crept toward the door. Then Sorcha was there, grabbing us, urging us to hurry.

But I was not going to run into a battle without all the information I needed. My hand went to my waist where I had long ago sewn a small knife into my bodice.

"Who are they?"

Sorcha held me, as if afraid I would go running out on my own.

"Orcs." She sounded as if she was choking on her own tongue. "The orcs have come."

I cursed. And then, since it felt so good, I cursed again.

Orcs weren't real. Were they?

Effie was the one to run, and I wrapped my fingers around my blade and plunged after her, determined to keep her safe…and I discovered just how wrong I had been. Not only were orcs real, but the stories had not exaggerated the beasts' attributes.

They were bigger than the tallest men I had seen, with arms thicker than my head and powerful stances. They sat atop horses that looked like ours, just bred sturdier. They each carried weapons—battleaxes, swords, daggers—that gleamed in the moonlight, and wore the kilts that marked their clan.

And they were green. Did I mention that?

Green. With tusks .

Definitely the nightmares my nurse used to tease me with.

Effie's scream as she was scooped up by one of the powerful beasts yanked me from my study. I lunged at her, grabbing her hand to try to pull her from the horse. The brute who held her scowled down at me, and I saw him reach for the sword at his hip, clearly planning to decapitate me the way his companion had split our escort's head.

And I braced myself for that, because I was not going to release Effie while I still had breath in my body.

She was bent double, hanging over her captor's arm, eyes glazed with terror, both hands clutching at me.

"Do not leave me," she begged hoarsely .

"Never," I vowed, holding her gaze, willing her to be strong.

But fate has a way of making me a liar.

I didn't even hear the orc approach me from behind. One moment I was clutching at Effie, vowing to protect her, and the next I was flying through the air. The hulking monster had grabbed me around my middle, yanking me upward, pulling my hand from Effie's grip.

Air released in a loud grunt from my lungs when my arse hit the tops of his thighs, but I immediately began to struggle.

After spending a lifetime scrapping with the lads in the stables and standing up to my father's iron will, I thought I was strong.

Apparently, I was wrong about that too.

"Let me go!" I screeched, which was stupid. Not only ineffective, but I did not even know if these beasts spoke my language.

Judging from the small chuckle that ruffled the hair on the top of my head, they did. Scowling, I twisted in his hold to glare up at him…and my breath caught.

Dear God Almighty, an actual orc held me.

Up until that moment, I don't think I believed it .

And up close, even with the battle raging around us, I couldn't help studying him.

Know thine enemy , and all that.

He wasn't quite so monstrous after all. Especially not the way his lips curled around those tusks in a not-completely-horrific smirk. His dark eyes twinkled with something that might be amusement, might be admiration.

And the color of his skin really was the most appealing shade, wasn't it? The glen in springtime, mayhap…

What are you thinking? This beast is trying to kidnap you and drag you back to his lair for all sorts of horrible acts !

I began to struggle again, trying to reach my blade.

"Och, lass, be careful!" he chastised, grabbing my knee before it could knock into his groin. "Ye could do a male some serious damage."

"That is the idea," I huffed, squirming. "Put me down! I have to save my cousin!"

"That wee angel in Moltar's arms? He's my cousin, and he'll no' harm the lassie if he kens what's good for him."

His promise shouldn't mean anything to me, but I found myself glancing to where Effie now huddled, sobbing on the orc's lap. I scowled, hating how proud the male looked for stealing my helpless wee cousin.

"Come on, lass," the one who held me murmured, rearranging me on his lap. "Best to get out of here."

"Before my father's men rally?" I managed, trying to keep the hopelessness from my voice. "Because they will . They will return with hundreds of his allies and chase you to the ends of the earth."

The handsome orc merely grinned and I wanted to hit him.

"Then ‘tis a good thing we're no' going to the ends of yer earth. We're going through the stones, and by the time yer father's army arrives, the veil will be long closed, and he'll have to wait another moon's cycle."

It was the longest speech he had given, and I wanted to hate him. But his voice was surprisingly soothing, and that grin…

God's Wounds, Roxanna, get it together.

The beast tightened his hold on me, jammed his heels into the sides of his horse, and wheeled about when his leader—who held Sorcha—gave the signal.

Then we were galloping. The stone circle loomed ahead of us and I felt myself cringing back against the large chest behind me. I did not want to take comfort from it—from him —but I felt his muscles tense as well as we plunged through the mist that gathered in the middle of the stones.

And then we were through, and a strange landscape stretched beneath the horse's hoofs.

It was that moment I realized how lost I was.

Another moon's cycle .

The old legends said the orcs raided only on the nights of the full moon. ‘Twould be another month before the stone circle allowed us to return.

And by then ‘twould be too late.

I pressed my lips together, determined to swallow the sob that threatened to break lose, and felt my shoulders slump.

"Dinnae fash, lass," the orc at my back murmured against my hair, so low I could barely hear him over the thunder of the hooves around us. "All will be well."

How could it?

I had been stolen from the only home I had ever known. Aye, only a few hours ago I had been planning on joining my older sister's new household, and the three of us were giggling about our new adventure as we studied the coital positions in the Harlot's Guide .

But this? This was no adventure.

This was a nightmare.

Mayhap some sound did escape my lips. Or mayhap my body betrayed me, succumbing to the urge to shake in anguish. Whatever the cause, my captor seemed to sense my despair.

He shifted me up on his thighs, pressing me closer, his arm squeezing me in a way which should have been disgusting, but instead made me feel…protected.

"I swear, lassie, I'll keep ye safe—"

"'Tis Roxanna," I snapped, the sudden anger giving me strength. "I am not lassie or lass or wench or bitch or any of those other things I have been called. Lady Roxanna Tarbert."

The orc at my back was quiet for a long moment. Then, "Bitch? Wench? What male would dare call ye that?"

"The ones who do not see my value," I shot right back, staring straight ahead. "Those who think because I have a pair of tits, I am naught more than a vessel for their lust. Those who do not see my strength and skill and cunning."

He made a little noise of understanding at my back. I expected him to argue, to defend his fellow males, to tell me I am worth less because I am a woman.

Worthless .

Instead, though, he merely said, "I see your strength and skill and cunning, Lady Roxanna Tarbert."

It was… Well, it bloody well should not have been sweet. Should not make my anger melt away. But it did.

I did not know how to respond, how to fight. The male at my back—the orc who held me—might know all the right things to say, but I had always known I could not trust a charmer.

"I am Varkaan," he finally said, "if ye care."

"I do not," I bit out stiffly, although my hands were resting atop his forearm where he held me and I stared straight ahead. "I do not care to know about any of this. I want to close my eyes and go to sleep, and when I wake, I will be back home in my bed."

"Varkaan, son of Klaar, of the Clan Bladesedge," he went on, as if I hadn't spoken. "That is my aulder brother Drakolt, our chief, holding his new Mate. My twin brother Korvak is the ugly brute glaring at our cousin who carries yer cousin. I suspect Korvak will take her soon."

That did naught to assuage my worry, and I twisted around to see the males he spoke of amongst those thundering beside us.

"Your brother," I gasped. "Who…"

"The chief." He— Varkaan —used two thick fingers to indicate the huge male galloping at the front of the pack, carrying Sorcha. "And his Mate."

He'd said that a moment ago, and now my throat went dry as the meaning sunk in. "Mate?" I managed to whisper, certain the word would be lost.

"Aye, pretty wee human. We bargained with yer human escort to leave ye unprotected tonight because we needed Sorcha, daughter of Laird Tarbert. ‘Tis foretold she's Drakolt's fated Mate, and will bear the son who will unite our clans."

Fated Mate. Son.

I felt weak.

I hated feeling weak.

But my heart fluttered, my breathing turned shallow, my mind turned to mush.

Because in that moment, I realized this wasn't random. The orcs of the Bladesedge clan were not going to give us back.

I was never going home, ever again, was I?

Even if I could get back through the stones in a month, Father wouldn't want me back. He had always said I was too rebellious, too brash, to be useful to him, and a month with the orcs would do naught to help that reputation. I would be ruined in his eyes .

Still, I couldn't stay here. I had to return to the world I knew, even if that meant I could not return to Father's keep.

I would.

I could.

I just needed a chance to escape my captors, and I would run.

I would run and bring help and save Effie and Sorcha.

"Breathe, Roxanna," came the gentle prompt in my ear. "Everything will be aright."

I shivered at his warmth, knowing the words were a lie, but still desperate to believe them. Believe him .

Varkaan of the Clan Bladesedge. The beast who held me.

I will run from you . I whispered the vow in my mind as I closed my eyes. I will not succumb to your comfort .

But a part of me worried it was already too late.