5. Dexari

Chapter 5

Dexari

The rest of the conversation with Renowlf and his mate does little to soothe the storm within me. I am torn between the weight of my duty and the raw, unyielding force of my desire for Sloane.

Renowlf's final words echo relentlessly in my mind. "You cannot deny what your spikes already know, Dex. Trust me, I tried. The human female is your perfect genetic match. Yet making her your queen will not be easy. Expect resistance from every direction."

A low growl rumbles deep in my chest, where frustration and desire are locked in a bitter struggle. Sloane has occupied every corner of my thoughts since I first laid eyes on her. Her scent, her spirit, the fire that blazes in her eyes…Everything about her calls to me.

It matters not that she is a human rather than an orc. The gods have decreed her mine, and I will not turn away from what is fated.

She is my mate. The future mother of my offspring. The one female destined to rule at my side.

The truth surges through me, a feeling so fierce it threatens to shatter my control. My fists clench, knuckles whitening as I struggle to accept it.

I can already imagine Sloane's reaction to this truth. She will resist. Of that, I am certain. Yet in the end, she will accept it. She must.

A sharp knock on the door angers me. I left explicit orders not to be disturbed. "Enter," I command, the word laced with a promise of retribution for the interruption.

The door swings open, and Mornah steps inside, deferential but unbowed. My anger cools, though it does not disappear entirely.

"Sire," my maid says, dipping her head in respect. "I have a report on my interactions with the human female."

I motion her forward. "Speak."

Mornah's eyes spark with interest as she begins her account. "She is an interesting female. Quick-witted and strong-willed. Although she is small, she is pleasing to look at. Did you notice the color of her eyes is the same shade of green as your skin? Her spirit does not seem to be broken despite—"

"Enough," I cut in, an unbidden irritation bubbling up inside me. It grates on me to hear Mornah speak highly of Sloane. "Did she tell you why she killed one of my guards and wounded another?"

Mornah's expression remains steady, but a glint of amusement dances in her eyes. "With all due respect, sire, the subject did not come up," she replies, her tone bordering on insolent. "We did discuss the manner of her dress, though. I suspect she will be wearing a robe when you visit her next."

"You suspect?"

"I would assure you of this if I could. The female's independent nature and fighting spirit make her unpredictable. I urge you to tread carefully with her, sire."

"Do not overstep, Mornah," I growl, though the fire in my warning is more embers than flame.

She meets my gaze without flinching. "Someone must. Sloane has scars from her time as a slave."

My maid's words hang in the air. She has served me since my birth, her judgment seldom in error.

Her demeanor softens, her tone dipping into something almost gentle. "She is like a cornered animal—dangerous and impulsive. I expect she will seize the first opportunity to escape."

A slow smile spreads across my face, causing even Mornah's composure to falter. "Then let us create such an opportunity."

My maid's eyes widen in comprehension. "Surely you do not mean—"

I raise a hand, silencing her. "Leave the details to me. You have done well, Mornah. You are dismissed."

She hesitates, clearly wanting to say more, but years of discipline win out. With a final nod, she exits my chambers.

Alone once more, I move to the window, surveying the vastness of my kingdom. Somewhere beyond these walls lies the key to taming my wild mate. All I need to do is offer her the illusion of freedom, let her believe she has outwitted me.

And when she inevitably flees…

I will follow.