2. Sloane

Chapter 2

Sloane

This can only mean one thing: the orc king, King Dexari, has finally come to see me.

The moment I've been waiting for—and also dreading—has arrived. I'm about to find out whether I'm worth more dead or alive. And if the king spares my life, what he expects in return.

The click of a key turning in the lock jolts me into action. Without thinking, I scramble away from the door, nearly tripping over my own feet. Adrenaline surges, pushing me into fight-or-flight mode. My palms sweat, my heart rate increases, and every muscle in my body tenses, ready to react.

Get it together, Sloane. I force myself to steady my breath, shake out my arms, and relax my posture, trying to project fearlessness. Even if it is faked.

When the door opens, I'm prepared to face a gruff, scarred, and terrifying king. But the figure that steps into the room is…not what I expected.

Not even close.

The orcs who captured me in the forest and guard my door are the stuff of nightmares—hulking brutes with jagged scars, broken tusks, and menacing stares that would make even the scariest aliens I've encountered recoil in fear.

But this orc…King Dexari. He's like something out of a very different kind of dream.

He's tall, broad, and muscular like the guards, but that's where the similarities end. He carries himself with an air of arrogance, of confidence, of power. It's in the way he moves, as if the world exists to bend to his will.

He's dressed in nothing but boots and a leather wrap that hangs from his waist and ends mid-thigh, leaving his muscled chest sinfully bare. His skin is a unique shade of soft green, and his battle scars look more like artwork than flaws.

From his cheekbones to his shoulders, from his chest to his calves, he's perfectly chiseled in a way that seems almost surreal. But what really gets me is his hair. Silky and black, it's pulled back into a perfectly styled man bun.

Of course, the king has to be stupidly attractive. Because facing down a green monster would've been too easy. Now I have to worry about my freaking hormones hopping into the driver's seat, and they drive recklessly.

I actually have to suppress a giggle, and that's when I know I'm really in trouble. I do not giggle. Ever. Well, not since I was a little girl. And yet, here I am, fighting the urge to giggle at how absurdly good-looking this orc king is. How physically striking.

I've never been attracted to pretty boys—they're usually more trouble than they're worth. But for the GQ version of an orc king? My hormones might make an exception.

King Dexari's dark eyes look me over, and I swear it's like a physical touch. Then, they lock onto mine, and the temperature in the room spikes by ten degrees. I try to keep my face neutral, but I can feel a traitorous blush creeping up my neck.

His lips curl into a smirk. "You are staring, female."

I shrug. "Just trying to figure out if you're real or if I've finally cracked and started hallucinating impossibly pretty orc kings. And my name is Sloane, not female."

The king raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "Pretty?" He steps closer, and I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "What were you expecting?"

Sweat beads on my brow. "Um, have you seen your guards? Unlike you, they won't be winning any beauty contests."

Dexari growls, a deep, rumbling sound that strikes right between my legs. "I am quite capable of holding my own in a fight." I think calling him pretty pissed him off.

Shit. Me and my big mouth.

"I don't doubt it," I say, giving his ego a bit of a boost. My eyes trail over his broad shoulders and down his beefy pecs before I can catch myself. "But whatever punishment you decide for me, I'm guessing the guards will dish it out."

He takes another step closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. "What makes you say that?"

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to step back. Or worse, step forward. "You don't really seem like the kind of guy who gets his hands dirty."

Something flickers in his eyes. Is it anger? It's gone before I can be sure. "And yet, you know nothing about me."

"I know you ordered your guards to lock me up in this room and took your sweet time coming to see me," I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

"You are not pleased with the guest quarters?" The way he emphasizes guest makes it clear he's toying with me.

I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to lash out. "The quarters are fine. What I'm not pleased about is being your prisoner."

"You committed crimes on my land, Sloane." Dexari leans in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, "Now, you must pay."