Page 2 of The Brute and the Blade

Panic claws at my throat and I thrash against Grok's grip, pummeling his back with my fists. He merely tightens his hold, a rumbling chuckle vibrating through him.

"Save your strength," he advises, striding purposefully away from the battle still raging behind us. "You'll need it where we're going."

A chill ripples through me at the ominous words, even as a traitorous part of me shivers at the dark promise in his tone. Where is he taking me? What does he want with me? My mind spins with grim possibilities, each more horrifying than the last.

As if sensing my racing thoughts, Grok gives me a little shake. "Relax, human. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You're far more valuable to me alive."

Valuable. The word sinks like a stone in my stomach.

What could an ogre warlord possibly find valuable about a human warrior, beyond slaughtering me for sport? Dark, unsettling images flit through my mind, tales of the foul appetites and cruel games of monsterkind. Is that to be my fate? A plaything for this brutal mountain of a male, a toy to be used and discarded?

Again, as if plucking the thoughts from my head, Grok makes a disgusted sound. "I'm not going to eat you, or rape you, or whatever vile thing you're imagining. I may be a monster in your eyes, but I have honor."

"Forgive me if I don't take the word of an ogre as gospel," I snap, some of my defiance returning in the face of his presumption. "Honor from your kind is as rare as a rose in winter."

"And prejudice from yours is as common as dirt," he retorts, though there's no real heat to his words. If anything, he sounds almost...amused? "You'll learn, little blade. There's more to us than the tales you've been told."

I scoff, but there's a part of me, a tiny, treacherous part, that wonders if he might be right. There's something about this male, a sense of depth and complexity that belies the brutish stereotype of his race. The way he fought, the way he speaks...it hints at an intelligence, a shrewdness, that I've never associated with ogrekind.

Damn it, Lily, get ahold of yourself. He's the enemy. A monster. Anything else is just a trick, a ploy to lower your guard. You can't afford to forget what he is, what his kind have done. Remember the raids, the burnings, the butchered innocents left in their wake. Remember why you fight.

Clinging to that reminder like a talisman, I renew my struggles, writhing and kicking with all my remaining strength. But it's like fighting a mountain—utterly implacable and unmoving. Grok simply hoists me higher on his shoulder, his hand tightening warningly on my thigh.

"Settle down," he warns, a hint of growl in his voice that sends a completely inappropriate shiver down my spine. "Or I'll tie you up and gag you. Don't think I won't."

I still, more out of a desire not to give him the satisfaction than any real fear of his threat. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I hiss, venom dripping from every word. "Having me helpless and at your mercy? Seems fitting for a brute like you."

He makes a sound somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. "Careful, little blade. Keep talking like that and I might start to think you want me to tie you up."

Heat floods my face at the insinuation, mingled shame and fury knotting in my gut. "In your dreams, monster."

"Every night," he rumbles, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. "But for now, how about you sit tight and enjoy the ride? We've got a long way to go."

I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches, eyes burning with unshed tears of rage and humiliation. Every step he takes carries me further from my troops, my home, my duty. And with each passing moment, the certainty sinks in like a leaden weight in my gut.

I am well and truly captured. A prisoner of the ogres. Of him.

Grok strides on, his gait steady and tireless as a juggernaut. The familiar sights and sounds of battle fade behind us, replaced by the creak of leather, the jingle of buckles, the rhythmic thud of his feet on packed earth. The sun climbs higher, beating down on us, and despite myself I find my head drooping, my eyes growing heavy.

The adrenaline of battle is fading, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that drags at my limbs. When was the last time I slept? Truly slept, without the looming specter of war haunting my dreams? I can't remember. It feels like a lifetime ago, like the carefree days of my youth are nothing but a half-forgotten dream.

Exhaustion washes over me like a smothering wave, and I let my eyes drift closed, just for a moment. Just...for a...

2

Grok

The clash of blades and screams of the dying fill the air as I stride through the chaos of the battlefield, my blood singing with the thrill of combat. This is where I belong, in the thick of the fray, leading my warriors to glory against the humans who would dare to challenge our might.

A flash of red catches my eye and I turn, my gaze locking onto a whirling figure in the midst of the melee. It's a human female, her fiery hair streaming behind her as she dances through the press of bodies, her blade a silver blur. She moves like a flame, all grace and deadly precision, cutting down my warriors like wheat before the scythe.

I feel a sudden, unfamiliar stirring in my chest, a mix of admiration and something darker, more primal. I've heard tales of this one, whispers around the war camps of the Red Blade of Thornhall, the she-devil who fights like ten men. Seeing her now, I can believe it.

I begin moving towards her, cutting a path through the battling forces with great swings of my axe. Let the grunts and fodder hack at each other—this one, I want for myself. A worthy opponent, at last.

She sees me coming, those piercing green eyes widening briefly before narrowing with fierce determination. She shifts her stance, readying herself, and in that moment I feel a thrill rush through me, the primal joy of two predators recognizing each other.

Our blades meet with a scream of steel on steel, the impact shuddering up my arms. She's strong, far stronger than I would have thought possible for a human, let alone a female. But I am stronger still, and I use my size and reach to push her back, to crowd her and force her to yield ground.

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