Chapter 1

Effie

When the orcs came, I was dreaming of a man's tongue between my thighs.

Despite my cousins thinking me naive, I was no innocent when it came to men's pleasures. My status as the laird's poor relation—too high-blooded to find honest trade, too low-born to make an alliance—had made me vulnerable. I had learned young that the only way to stave off unwanted advances from all men was to find one strong enough and offer myself to him.

Him, and all his degrading, painful desires. ‘Twas better to endure his blows and pinches and thrusts quietly, then cry after as I wiped the blood away .

So, nay, I was no stranger to a man's touches. I just had no urge to prolong or encourage them.

Which is why my cousin Sorcha's prized possession—a carefully inked copy of A Harlot's Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts —had been so surprising to me.

On the way to her betrothed's castle, our escort made camp for us in an abandoned crofter's hut, too close to the stone circle the attackers used. But we knew none of that, and instead sat on the single bed and giggled like silly lassies as we examined the scroll's repertoire of erotic imagery and descriptions.

The Burning Bush.

The Soldier and the Crucible.

The King's Gambit.

The Clinging Vine.

In each of them, the woman…was enjoying the act. The unknown author wrote of the pleasure found in each act, not just for the man—or men —but for the woman as well. She—for certes the author was a female!—described how to milk one's own ecstasy from a man's cock, how to make her pleasure paramount.

‘Twas something I had never imagined.

Long after my cousins Sorcha and Roxanna had prepared for sleep, I found myself breathlessly reading those descriptions and imagining what it would be like to meet a man who might care about my desires.

When I finally tucked the scroll against my chest and curled up against Roxanna, I fell asleep dreaming of such a man.

This imaginary male had his mouth on my cunny, his tongue driving me to distraction, when I heard the screaming. At first, I thought it was my own cries, cries of pleasure…but I soon learned differently.

The old legends were true.

For a few hours every full moon, the ancient circle of standing stones becomes a sort of pathway, through which horrible monsters might swoop down and steal human women for their own depraved amusement.

And tonight, they'd come.

We ran, of course. My cousins and I linked hands and ran, until we were yanked back. I did my best to block out the clash of steel and the cries of wounded, to focus only on the sound of my own pounding heartbeat…but ‘twas too much.

I could feel my chest squeezing and I wanted to wrap my arms around myself and curl into a ball and pray for death. This violence is what I had avoided for so long by selling myself to a single man. It had been all for naught, because I was in the midst of it again.

Headstrong Roxanna was at my side, protecting me as well as she could. I wanted to burrow into her safety, even knowing she could no more protect herself than me.

And then I was pulled away.

John, our escort, the man tasked with our safety, the man who had hurt me so often in the past…held a knife to my throat.

"I can bargain!" he screeched. "I want more gold!"

Part of me wanted to squeeze my eyes shut, to hide, to protect myself. But I was surprised at the surge of wistfulness which washed over me. I was about to die, murdered as a bargaining chip by a man who had promised to protect me if I would just be a good girl and take him all and not scream. Another lie.

And that wistfulness is why I kept my eyes open.

I wanted one last look at the world.

The moon was bright enough to see the Tarbert men kneeling on the ground. Wounded, weaponless…but alive. The orcs ha d let them live?

Surrounding them, surrounding us, were the monsters themselves. Huge, hulking, towering over the men.

They sit atop horses. Of course they will look larger .

But that was not the reason.

Directly in front of us, two of the orcs glared down at me. They were both brutish, green monsters, but one—the horribly scarred one—was uglier than even his fellows. Mayhap ‘twas the terrible scowl he wore as he swung down from his horse.

"Ye would bargain with us, traitor?" he growled. "Greedy enough to demand more, now that we have the upper hand?"

"Let me live!" John demanded, his too-strong fingers digging into my upper arm, causing me to wince. If he did not kill me this night, he would likely gloat about those bruises.

"I want more gold. I brought ye more women, after all. See?"

He yanked at me, and I couldn't help the way I gasped in pain, the way my eyes pooled with tears. But still, I couldn't tear my terrified gaze from the beast before me.

The scarred orc was tall—far too tall, so tall I would have to tip my head back, he stood so close—and he had halted, frowning down at me. He studied the tears on my cheeks and shook his head in disgust, fingers tightening around the hilt of his huge sword.

Aye , I wanted to shout. I am weak. A weak female, worth naught more than what is between my thighs! If John does not kill me, some other man will!

"Ye hide behind a woman?"

It took me a moment to realize the hideous monster was talking to John. His disgust was not directed at me?

Behind me, I felt John relax, his tone turning smooth. "Aye, this one is not as valuable as the others, although she's a fair tumble. But Lady Sorcha and her sister? They are worth more gold. You wanted human females."

The truth slammed into me.

John had betrayed us—nay, he had betrayed Lord Tarbert! I was not worth betraying, but he had taken the laird's daughters from safety and delivered them to these beasts…for gold?

God's Wounds, help us. Keep Sorcha and Roxanna safe .

I couldn't help the whimper which escaped my lips, and I saw the scarred one's gaze drop to mine.

"We only wanted one female in particular," he said, his tone almost curious. As if wondering what John would say.

I could have told him.

I had known the bastard long enough, after all.

Behind me, I felt John shrug. "Then I have no use for this one."

Oh God .

When I felt the knife at my throat draw to one side, ready to plunge into my flesh, I allowed my eyes to flutter shut. I knew I was going to die, murdered by the man I had sold myself to, and my last vision would be the hulking beast before me.

I felt a single tear track down my cheek, and my last wish was that I might have been braver.

But then there was a whistle, a thunk , and I felt John jerk behind me.

My eyes flew open in time to see the beast swinging his sword back to his side, the blade's edge covered in blood. Time stilled.

John slumped to one side and I glanced down to see his head split open, already dead despite the fact the wound still pumped. I should have felt disgusted, but when I reached for the panic, all I felt was numbness.

Wide-eyed, lips parted on a scream I couldn't manage past my closed throat, I turned back to the monster who had saved my life .

He wore a simple kilt like so many of his fellows, but it seemed more severe on him. Everything about him seemed more severe. His jaw was sharper, his eyes darker, his tusks longer. Oh God, tusks . And that scar that bisected his face made him even scarier.

With another little whimper, I swayed forward.

Why? Was I going to collapse into his arms? The male had saved me from John, aye, but he was here to take us all. He was no hero.

Still, I couldn't help the way I swayed toward him, as if I wanted him to comfort me.

Mayhap I would have begged for it—being a weak female—had his mouth not curled into a disgusted snarl, and he turned away, shaking his head.

Then Roxanna was there, and I allowed myself to fall into her arms, grateful for the chance to hide my humiliation and terror in her embrace.

Oh God.

Everything would change, would it not?

I don't believe I actually fainted…it just felt that way. Roxanna held me, then I was being lifted. The orcs were yelling, and I was being held by a different male now, his arm too tight around my waist, so tight I couldn't draw a full breath. Then we were riding, the pounding of the horses' hooves thundering in time with my pulse .

The terror, the panic, the daze…it all blended together until I couldn't process what was happening.

But the longer we rode—farther from home, from what little safety I had known—the worse the tightness in my chest became. I couldn't breathe, and the male who held me kept touching me. One hand held the reins, and the other…

The first time he casually palmed my breast, as if he owned me, I went very still, refusing to breathe. He squeezed it too hard, as if ‘twere a berry and he was checking for ripeness. He kneaded my flesh, and in that moment, I knew my terror had only just begun.

This monster viewed me as a spoil of battle. He touched me like this because he owned me. I was naught to him, even less than I had been to John.

And when he was done with me, this extra female who was worth less than the others , the orc would pass me to his fellows, the other warriors who had fought for us.

Unable to stomach the horror, I leaned sideways and vomited, spilling the meager contents of my stomach down my arm, over his green thigh and saddle.

"Fooking hells!"

The bellow over me caused me to jerk in surprise, slam backward against the monster's chest. He yanked on the reins just as his free hand jerked away from me, disgusted by the mess I had made.

I couldn't help it; I retched again—partly from fear, partly from pain, partly out of relief he was no longer groping me.

His palm slammed into my shoulder, and thankfully the horse had halted, because the blow knocked me sideways. With a helpless cry, I fell from the animal, landing on my hands and knees in my own vomit.

The big male behind me swung from the saddle as the others halted as well.

I did not want to look up, to see their faces. I did not want to see Sorcha and Roxanna and their fear.

‘Twas easier to keep my head bowed, to shiver, to focus on the pain in my limbs from the jarring fall.

But a large hand closed around my arm—not the one John had bruised, thank goodness—and the monster yanked me upright. ‘Twas the male who had held me and pawed at me and was now glaring at me with his nose wrinkled as if I was the disgusting one.

"Ye puked on me."

Did he expect me to apologize? I was trembling too hard to force my tongue to form the words. Around us, others were talking, and I could hear my cousins' voices, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from my captor .

The incredulity in his expression turned to anger, and he lifted one hand.

Do not flinch .

My mother had taught me that, learned from a lifetime of being a lesser human in the eyes of men. When they hurt me, I met their violence as stoically as I could, although sometimes I couldn't help my tears.

As his palm cracked against my jaw, I thought At least it was not his fist. I could not fall, thanks to the hold he had on my arm, but I sagged, my entire face throbbing.

My entire body throbbing in pain, sorrow, fear.

"Spoils." The word came from behind me, a growl of challenge. "I have a wager to collect on."

The male holding me spun about and I stumbled along, turning to face the ugly beast who had slayed John.

The one holding me blurted, "Ye bastard !" His voice turned to a whine. "Our Chieftain told us no' to spill human blood. ‘Tis the only reason—"

"Moltar." The word—command? A name?—came from the orc holding Sorcha. "Did ye kill any humans today? "

I ignored the exchange to catch my cousin's eye. Was she well? Was she hurt? She seemed more at ease than I felt, but still studied me in worry.

I tried to smile, but it hurt too much to lie in such a way. I could feel the tears gathering again, and I hated this helplessness.

Over Sorcha's head, the one carrying her suddenly spoke, and the other males listened respectfully.

"My brother Korvak did what any of us would have done, protecting the female from that traitor, John." Oh God, was that me? I turned to look at the fierce male who had saved me. He was Korvak? Brother to their leader?

The male watched me, and something blazed in the dark depths of his eyes. Something I could not identify.

Something I thought I ought to fear.

Their leader was still speaking.

"Korvak's aim was blessed by the gods, and he spilled more human blood than ye, Moltar. Korvak has won the wager, and thus the prize—the little human."

Wager .

Little human.

I was the prize?

The one who held me—Moltar—tightened his hold on my arm, causing me to wince. When he saw that, Korvak's expression turned even darker. The scar made him look savage, horrible.

But when he stepped up to me, I couldn't pull away.

Moltar had hurt me once, whereas Korvak had protected me. ‘Twas a meager concession, but all I had to cling to.

The beast wrapped his hand around Moltar's wrist and squeezed. I watched, wide-eyed, as Moltar cursed and dropped his hold on my arm. I felt immediate relief, although my face still stung.

I expected Korvak to grab me, to hurt me, to claim me.

Instead, he reached down and enfolded my small hand in his huge one, his fingers closing all around mine.

‘Twas gentle.

‘Twas unexpected.

As my tears threatened with a muted sob, he turned away, tugging me toward his horse.

"Effie!" Roxanna called from behind me, and as I began to twist, to look for her, I felt my new captor swing onto his horse .

He had not released my hand. He had not used stirrups to mount. I gaped, momentarily distracted from my panic by such a show of strength and skill.

Then he was pulling, and I flew through the air again. But my landing wasn't hard; he caught me and swung me behind him.

Korvak .

His name was Korvak.

There had been some sort of wager, and he had won me. I belonged to him now.

I shuddered, uncertain if I should be grateful or terrified…and he pulled my hand around to rest on his hard stomach.

"We'll take the mountain pass!" he bellowed, kicking his horse into motion. "See you in a fortnight, brother!"

I gasped at the sudden motion, and grabbed for the orc, wrapping my other hand around his waist to keep from falling from the horse's back without a saddle to cling to.

Korvak's elbow pressed my arm into place, as if holding me against him. Keeping me safe?

"Effie! Effie!" Sorcha's calls and Roxanna's enraged screams faded as we galloped away, and I pressed my forehead against the broad back in front of me.

They were behind me.

The unknown awaited.

And I was now owned by an orc.

Keeping my sobs silent, I let my tears fall freely.