2. Mia

My eyes are instantly drawnto the magnificent bejeweled throne. Perched on a raised dais, the ornate seat allows the king to quite literally look down upon those who seek an audience, projecting an aura of authority and power. Intricate carvings adorn the dark wood, glittering with colorful gemstones that catch the light.

Up close, King Renowlf is a sight to behold, a powerfully built warrior whose very presence commands respect. When his gaze lands on me, I feel pinned in place like a helpless insect. Which I kind of am in this world.

There"s an undeniable magnetism to the orc king that both intrigues and unnerves me. He could never be called handsome—not with those sharp tusks jutting up from his lower jaw—yet his prominent brow, sharp cheekbones, and mesmerizing, gold-rimmed eyes are striking.

I can't look away.

His massive, muscled chest is bare except for criss-crossed leather straps holding what looks like sheathed daggers. A skirt-like loincloth is all that covers his lower body, and instead of wearing a crown on top of his head, he wears a horned helmet covered in spikes. He looks like he belongs on the battlefield rather than in this lavish palace.

As we approach the throne, Orgel kneels before the king. I remain upright because I'm not about to bow down to an alien, even if he is royalty.

Orgel isn't an orc or one of King Renowlf's subjects. He's a trader who serves all the kings on the orc planet by offering them rare and unique off-world delicacies. Evidently, a curvy Earth girl qualifies as a delicacy, although I'm not sure what that means, and I couldn't ask Orgel to clarify because of the no-speak tea.

Honestly, if I had the choice between being dinner and dessert, I'd rather be the sweet treat after the main meal. After all, I can't get back to Earth if I'm dead. And I really, really want to live.

"Rise," King Renowlf commands. "What have you brought me this day, Orgel the Trader?"

Orgel scrambles to his feet and pulls on my rope until I stand beside him. Then he pushes me forward, presenting me to the king.

The king looks me over with disinterest. "What is it?"

It?

When I flash the king my best fuck-you glare, Orgel tugs on the rope as if he's reminding me to behave. "It's a human female, sire. From Earth."

"I have never heard of such a place."

"It's a primitive planet with one sun located in the Milky Way Galaxy," Orgel explains.

"The Milky Way? Primitive, indeed. What is your name, female?" the king growls at me. Since I can't talk, I just shrug, although I'm not sure I would answer him even if I could. "She is useless if she cannot understand me."

"Oh, but she can understand you," Orgel assures him. "She has a universal translator implant. The latest technology."

The king wrinkles his broad, hooked nose. "Even worse, then, she is mute." I hate that they're discussing me like I'm some sort of pet or possession. It's dehumanizing.

"It's a temporary condition from eeloo tea," Orgel says hastily. "She calls herself Mia, and she's actually quite vocal if you prefer that sort of thing. I do not. Hence, the tea."

King Renowlf doesn't look impressed. "I have no use for a small, dirty female."

He isn't wrong about me being dirty. But small? That's something I've never been called before. Curvy, yes. Voluptuous, on occasion. Plain old chunky, more times than I'd like to admit.

"Nothing a good scrubbing won't fix," Orgel says brightly, as if I'm tarnished silver that just needs a polish.

Excuse me for not looking my best after being kept in a dirty cage for over a week wearing a now-ratty nightgown while my captors jumped their spaceship through God-knows-how-many wormholes to deliver me to an alien planet where I'm about to be sold as a delicacy to a rude orc king.

Yeah, maybe it's a good thing my tongue is tied by the tea.

Orgel isn't giving up on his sales pitch. "She may be small, sire, but take a look at her pleasing shape." He brings his hand to the neckline of my nightgown, and the fucker rips away the soft, thin cotton, leaving my body exposed to the king—and every other male in the throne room.