Page 14 of Adored By The Orc

Her movements—so graceful. Feminine. Just like Shalia. Even as a child, when grandfather trained the little girls to fight, she moved like a dancer. Like the female version of her father. Everyone had commented on it and he—my father’s best friend—preened.

I stay silent until she leaves the water and re-dresses and I keep my distance while she returns to her camp. I wait patiently until their fires burn out and the camp is quiet before I make my move.

Very quietly I infiltrate the camp, guessing that there are probably five, maybe six, males total. I slide my hand over the wench’s face, covering her mouth, and let the heavy weight of my body pin her down. “Wake up, Blackheart. Be quiet or you’ll die this night.”

But when she opens her eyes, my heart skips a beat. Light gray eyes. Dear Goddess. Somehow, this is Shalia.

I yank my hand away as if it’s been burned and then I sink my mouth to hers.

She lays in place—frozen, unmoving. As shocked that I found her as I am, then. Reluctantly, I tear my mouth from hers.

“I found you finally. I watched you bathe earlier—”

We both freeze when there’s a cough in their camp and quickly, I cover her mouth again, hissing at her to be quiet.

But luck isn’t on my side and one of the males returns from patrolling the perimeter, just as one of the others rises, as if they’re about to take turns with a shift. I toss the blanket over us, my hand still over her mouth. Two males, I can handle—plus I have the element of surprise. Three males, I can handle. But I have Shalia to protect and mayhap it wasn’t wise to infiltrate the camp after all. I just couldn’t leave my sweet love here alone, not for another night.

We hold perfectly still, an unmoving lump beneath the blanket as the two guards exchange places.

We’re almost safe when Shally wiggles slightly to the left and I ease my weight, thinking she needs to breathe, but she grabs a rock and with an ear-piercing shriek, brings it down on the side of my head.

What the—?

I KNOW WHEN HE LOSES consciousness because he becomes dead weight on me.

“Get him off!” I scream at Gnark, who stands nearby slack-jawed.

He and Doparth haul the prisoner’s crushing weight off me as the others come running. Stug squints into the darkness and again, I find it curious that my mate sleeps in a tent with Shodun, allowing me to sleep outside near the fire. Not that I’m complaining because I know one day that’ll change.

Shodun adds wood to the flickering flames and then someone gasps.

“’Tis a West Mountain.”

“More than that,” Stug says grimly, kicking the unconscious fool. “Royal blood. See the armbands? The tats?”

“Kill him. We’ll leave now,” Gnark says.

“Nay,” Grilud snaps. “Touch a royal and their entire clan will hunt us down. Remember what happened twenty years ago when someone nearly kidnapped one of their mates? I was a wee brat but they nearly wiped out our clan. Someone managed to make a convincing cover story, blaming it on a human leader, and they put a hit on him instead. Someone in our clan had to slaughter the human to gain their favor.”

Stug swears. “Tie him up while we decide what to do!”

I sit up as the still-unconscious orc is bound. I wailed him good. But my head is swirling with information. So Grilud used to belong elsewhere? How long ago did he leave? Apparently, they are all afraid of West Mountain orcs, or at least of royalty.

“They don’t travel alone,” Grilud says. The others glance around the blackened forest. We’re sitting ducks if that’s the case, because the light from the fire outlines our positions easily. However, if this one is indeed a prince, we have our bargaining power.

“Jogug shall do it,” Stug says suddenly. “She killed our king easily enough. She will kill this one while we safely wait at the fork in the road that leads to Serenity, but instead we’ll circle the town and head toward Collins, the original plan.”

Wait. The pussies want more blood on my hands? I already wear the tattoos of the king I killed.

“Why me?” I spit out and all of them look wary.

“They won’t expect a female—especially one who is half-bred—not to run and cower. Besides which, you know the evils of the West Mountain orcs. Should they capture you, you are in the perfect position to infiltrate their camp. If we get captured, we have a weapon on the inside. Besides”—Stug leans in for the killing blow— “don’t you want to meet the male who raped and killed your mother? I’d expect you’d want to slay him the first moment you see him. The element of surprise, the way you had with Wruk?” He whispers the name into my ear, and in my fury, I don’t even mind his breath. “His name is Brachard.”

Finally. I have some insight to my past.

“Yes,” Grilud says, his eyes lighting up. “And before you kill him, mention that he nearly slaughtered our entire clan.”

“You are no longer of that clan,” Stug growls. “Have you forgotten? Nay, her goal is to kill him swiftly, with the element of surprise on her side, not to worry about getting your message across.”

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