Page 68 of The Orc Outcast's Mate

“Govek?” she whispered.

“I won’t do anything,” Govek said, though she could see his throat working, and his hands trembling, and she felt the tension rolling off him in waves that crashed around her, threatening to suck him down.

“I know you won’t,” Miranda said. “What are they talking about?”

“Saving you.”

“Saving me?” She glanced back at the orcs, who were still watching. “But you’re not doing anything.”

“That does not matter. I am not safe,” Govek said through his teeth. Miranda tightened her hold on his arm.

“You heard him,” one of the orcs snapped. “I’m going to get her.”

Govek ripped away from her, moving toward the males at the table. He took a single booming step forward as they all clamored to their feet. Bowls and soup and meat splattered to the wood floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Miranda yanked his hand, dug her nails into his wrist. Forced him back around. “Govek, don’t!”

Dang it, how could she even begin to stop him? He was so much stronger than her. There was just no way.

But her words were enough for now, at least. He whirled back toward her, heaving for breath, shaking for control.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. Her stupid brain was unable to think of anything better to say.

“My son.”

The loud call came from her right, and when she turned, she was faced with the sight of a wood platform, like a stage, nestled right up against the wall of the tree trunk. It was around four feet high off the ground and likely more than twenty feet square. There were no railings or carvings and the only furniture on it was a single, high-backed chair placed at the center.

An older orc stood in front of it. From the distance, she couldn’t make out much other than his wrinkled face and white hair.

And that he had his attention trained on them.

Govek jerked to his full height, away from the males he’d been about to fight. His muscles bunched, his back straightened, his tucked jaw quivered as if he were about to bear his fangs.

Then he moved her toward the platform, his hot hand tense at her lower back. As they drew near, the older male’s features grew clearer. His frail limbs were covered by intricately embroidered robes, and he had white hair in detailed braids. He had a long nose and sharp eyes and a mouth set in a firm, unhappy line. His jaw was tucked up, like all the other orcs in this room, but it didn’t look uncomfortable on them like it did on Govek. It didn’t distort their features as much.

Probably because their teeth were much smaller.

“Govek,” the orc said loudly, even though he and Miranda were drawing nearer by the moment. Many of the orcs around that weren’t already watching turned their heads to look. “This is a happy occasion. There is no need for such violence here. Can you not withhold for even the length of a meal?”

Govek’s jaw worked. His eyes fell to the floor. “I apologize, my chief.”

The chief. Miranda had suspected this was his father.

They didn’t look anything alike at all.

“Your apologies would be better served to the males who you frightened just now.”

Govek turned and faced the younger, still glowering, orcs. “I apologize.”

None seemed very receptive. In fact, Rogeth’s glower seemed to get hotter.

“Good. Now come here. Bring the newest member of our clan. I wish to meet her.”

Govek was so rigid he was trembling, but he tugged Miranda the rest of the way over to the platform. Everyone around them was silent, watching. The hair stood up on the back of her neck.

“Fair woman, I apologize for my son’s lack of decorum,” the older orc said, still talking too loudly, still standing on top of his platform. The chair, or rather the throne, behind him was done up in intricate carvings she hadn’t noticed at the prior distance. The red wood and elegant vine patterns glistened in the dappled light of the hall.

“Govek, release her. Don’t drag her about. You are rendering her bruised.”

---