Chapter 3

Effie

I had never believed the old stories about orcs living in a world like our own, but I had to admit that the last few hours had convinced me.

And if someone had asked me where orcs lived, I would have guessed caves or mayhap huts. But this cottage was as cozy and well-appointed as any in Lord Tarbert's keep…although a little dilapidated from misuse. Even so, Korvak's home was as beautiful as the western Highlands and islands I knew.

At his command, I entered the croft as he dealt with the horses, and had enough time to open the shutters to let in air, find a rag from a neatly folded stack in the corner, and begin to dust .

When he entered, he stopped short, and I saw surprise flicker across his face.

"What are ye doing?"

What did it look like I was doing? I glanced down at myself, knowing how filthy I was.

"Um…cleaning, Master?"

Something flickered in his eyes, something that looked greedy at the word Master , but he merely shook his head and turned away, stomping toward the hearth.

"My name is Korvak," he finally muttered. "This is my space, I should clean it."

"I—I am sorry."

He made a noise like a snort, and I suddenly felt embarrassed for trying to clean. Was that not my role here? John had never kept me in his quarters, never expected me to clean. He had only expected me to make myself available when his urges hit him…

Mayhap the rules for owning a human were the same to the orcs.

I swallowed, trying to understand the way my stomach flipped at the thought.

I did not want to be a slave, to be owned…but Korvak had wagered and wo n me. I was his, to do with as he pleased. Would he…would he use me the way John had?

Why did the thought not fill me with horror, as it should?

He straightened suddenly, turning to study me. "What is it?"

I opened my mouth, not certain how to respond.

I saw his nostrils flare, and for just a moment, his gaze dropped to my hips before he looked away. Or mayhap not my hips, but my …core . I swallowed, pulse suddenly loud in my ears.

Could he tell that my body had betrayed me? That I was not quite horrified at the thought of being commanded to…to service a male such as he? I needed a convenient lie.

"I... I was just hungry."

His eyes narrowed, gaze dropping once more to my cunny before darting toward the hearth. "I'll make—Hells," he growled, reaching for the metal pot dangling from the metal crane over the empty hearth. "Lid was left askew. Prime place for— aye ."

Unable to help myself, I moved forward. "What is it?"

Sighing, he placed the lid on the mantel and lifted the pot in both hands, turning to show it to me. There was a pile of fluff and hay, with a terrified rodent scurrying among her squeaking babies.

"Mouse nest. Nay," he commanded, slapping one large palm over the top and tilting his chin so it looked as if he was speaking into the hole. "Stay in there."

He was speaking to the mouse?

"Do you want me to…?" I couldn't say the words. The wee mouse bairns were so tiny and helpless; my stomach twisted at the thought of killing them. But this was his home, and he would want them disposed of.

But he surprised me.

Sighing again, he stomped out the door and returned a moment later empty-handed. He crossed to the pile in the corner and pulled free an oiled leather.

I worked up the courage to ask, "What did you do?" while twisting the rag in front of me.

"I left them outside. Mama mouse is going to have to find a new place to move them so I can have my pot back." He glanced up at me, even as his fingers worked to tie the leather into a sort of cone. "In the meantime, I'll fill this with water and get a fire going, so ye can wash with warm water, and I'll fetch something soft to eat."

My mouth dropped open as he left once more and I was left standing in the middle of the cozy room.

He was…he knew my jaw ached and was offering me soft food? He was heating water for me to wash?

I glanced down at my gown again. ‘Twould never be as fine as Sorcha or Roxanna's, but it had been my best before this journey began. Now ‘twas dirty from my falls, and the vomit I had landed in. I likely smelled horrible. Was that why he was offering me a wash?

"'Twas a kindness, anyway," I whispered, twisting the rag in uncertainty. "And he did not have to be kind."

Taking a deep breath, I glanced around the room. Beside the hearth there was a cabinet I imagined might hold cooking implements, and a sturdy table with a set of chairs. Along the opposite wall there were hooks and a screen, and a huge bed was pushed into the corner, the coverlet tucked snugly around the mattress to protect it from the faint layer of dust.

Aye, this was a cozy space, one well-maintained.

I glanced toward the open door again.

What would happen to me when we reached his village? Would he turn me over to his chief who held Sorcha? Korvak had called Sorcha his brother's Mate , and the description of such a state made it sound special. Could she protect me from whatever the orcs had planned?

Nay, I needed to protect myself.

And I had long ago learned how to do that.

My mother and John had taught me.

Swallowing, my hands rose to the ties of my gown. By becoming the property of one male, I was safe from the urges, the violence , of the others.

I slid A Harlot's Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts , which had been tucked between my breasts for the duration of our ride, from my bodice and moved to the bed. Lifting the mattress, I slipped it beneath, hoping Sorcha's prized possession would remain safe.

Mayhap I could put some of that long-forgotten harlot's knowledge to good use.

As I stripped from my outer gown, I glanced around the room again. I thought of the tiny helpless mice he had every reason to exterminate, but instead he had relocated. I thought of this home, obviously taken care of. I thought of the horses, well-trained and calm.

I thought of the way Korvak had saved me from John, and whether he realized it, from Moltar as well. My jaw still ached from the male's blow, and I imagined I was bruised .

Korvak had saved me.

He could save me again.

If I made myself valuable to him.

And I only had one thing of value.

I hung my gown from one of the hooks and reached up to untie my braids. Mother once told me that men preferred their females to look wanton, hair around their shoulders, so I would see if that helped.

I was pulling my stockings from my legs when Korvak stomped back into the cottage, a stack of firewood in one arm and the full leather cauldron in the other. He stopped, gaze dropping to my bare knee where it emerged from the chemise I was holding up.

His nostrils flared, and as I watched, the front of his kilt shifted. His cock was not unaffected by the sight of my bare legs, and despite the nervousness twisting in me, I hoped that was a good sign.

Abruptly, Korvak tuned to the hearth. He dropped the wood, hung the leather cauldron from the crane, and lowered himself to one knee to arrange the kindling.

I hurried to remove my other stocking, watching him .

He had a surprisingly lovely back, did he not? I had always secretly admired the way the muscles of a man's back moved as he worked or sparred, and Korvak's were the finest I had seen. Well, no surprise—the male was also the biggest, most muscular I had seen. His hands were strong, his arms were the size of my legs, and his back was quite a thing of beauty.

Thoughtfully, I straightened, still holding my chemise ruched up to my thighs.

When he rotated, still on one knee, I sucked in a gasp again at the ugly, hard angles of his face. That scar twisted his expression into something dark…or mayhap ‘twas his thoughts as his gaze slowly moved from my face to my chest to my legs.

As if he was admiring me.

I swallowed. You can do this, Effie. For your safety. You have endured worse .

A small part of me whispered the reminder: Korvak's hands were strong, aye, but they had been naught but gentle thus far. He had even been kind enough to realize when he had gripped my bruises and move his hold.

Mayhap being tupped by a gentle male would not be so horrible?

His gaze, which had been locked on the junction of my thighs, snapped suddenly to mine. Could he somehow sense my moods? Could he sense that the thought of being taken by him was not so abhorrent?

I needed to be brave.

"Korvak," I began, but he suddenly thrust himself to his feet. "What?" I asked, startled by his movement.

"Ye've never said my name afore."

Ah . My tongue darted out from between my lips and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

" Master ."

His nostrils flared, and for the first time, I could see the bulge beneath his kilt. Aye, he was not unaffected. I told the heat between my thighs that this was a good thing.

"Master," I repeated. "You…I am yours, aye?"

"Aye," he rasped, gaze still on my mouth.

Experimentally, I ran my tongue over my lower lip and he stumbled forward, as if pulled to me.

This meant he now loomed over me, and I decided ‘twas easier to focus on his chest than tip my head back to meet his dark stare.

"I…I would beg a boon."

"Anything, Effie," he rasped .

Say it . "If…if you are going to take me, I would like it to be now."

"Now?" he growled. "What?"

A little braver, I dragged my gaze to his chin. "Please? The suspense of not knowing what to expect, when to expect it…"

My voice trailed off and I snuck a peek up at him.

Korvak looked confused .

"Please, Master," I whispered, hating the way my voice caught in my throat. "If you plan to slake your urges with my body…" I swallowed again then hesitantly reached out, placing my fingertips on his chest. "I am yours, and I will do my best not to cry or fight."

Something whooshed out of him, somewhere between a snort and a huff. As if he was laughing at me, although his face was pulled into his habitual scowl.

"Ye are offering yer body to me?"

I had said that, had I not?

"It belongs to you. You won me in you wager, did you not?"

His dark gaze studied me. "Ye're saying that if I tore yer clothing from ye and threw ye on that bed and pushed my cock between yer legs and fooked ye hard and fast…ye'd no' cry?"

Oh .

Oh my .

The King's Gambit , from the Harlot's Guide. That was what he was describing, was it not?

My heart, already pounding strongly, began to speed in excitement at that description.

"I…" My throat was dry. Everything was dry…except my cunny. For some reason, just hearing those words from his lips had made liquid heat pool in my core. "I will do my best," I managed, pressing my palm against his chest.

Why did my breasts suddenly ache? I had to resist the urge to touch them, to squeeze them.

"Effie…" His hand rose to rest on my shoulder, claws so close to my throat. "Ye're saying ye'll no' fight me?"

At that moment, I knew I would not fight him. Hell, I was trying to resist the urge to press my mouth to his chest, to taste his skin. Mutely, I shook my head.

One of his claws traced up the side of my neck, then his fingers were at the back of my head, threading through the hair I had taken down. For him.

"And what if I wanted to use yer mouth instead?" he whispered, suddenly harsh, fingers tightening in my hair, pulling my head back to stare up at him. "If I pushed ye to yer knees and fooked yer mouth? Nae consideration to yer needs or yer pleasures? Ye'd allow that?"

Oh God . I pressed my thighs together in response to the sensation such a humiliating threat caused. Why? Why was I responding this way to him?

The Supplicant Swan . John had used my mouth that way a few times and it had never been pleasant…but the thought of Korvak doing it…

"Answer me," he commanded, tugging slightly on my hair. "Ye'd no' fight me?"

"Nay," I moaned, chewing on my lower lip.

"Why no'?" he growled, lowering his face close to mine. "Why would ye no' fight such an act from a monster like me?"

"Because," I gasped, my fingers clutching at him. "Because I am yours."

If I had not been so close to him, I might have missed the flash of green deep within the black of his eyes. I might have missed the momentary flash of want , of wistfulness, which crossed his face before he abruptly straightened and pulled his hand from my hair.

"Well, ye should," he snapped, stepping away from me. "Ye should be repulsed at the thought of my touch."

I could see his cock clearly now, straining against his kilt, and the size of it made my cunny clench again. I should not be responding to this orc in such a way, but I was. Mayhap ‘twas my body acknowledging the inevitable and attempting to make the experience better?

Because I suddenly knew, if Korvak did use my body the way John had, it would not be painful.

I took a deep breath and raised my gaze to his, as defiant as I could. "You are no monster, Master," I told him softly, sure of my words.

His hand dropped to his erection, fingers wrapping around himself through the wool of his kilt, as if he planned to pull it out and act on his threats. And my traitorous body responded, the thrumming in my cunny matching the pounding of my heart.

Do it do it do it.

Just get it over with .

But whatever he was going to do to me wouldn't be the horrible experience I dreaded, I knew. Korvak was not like John or even the other orc who had hurt me. He would protect me from them. ‘Twas smart to offer myself to him.

Which is why—I told myself—disappointment shot through me when he growled a curse and turned on his heel, stomping from the small cottage.

Leaving me alone.

I should be pleased.

I was not.