Page 21 of Scoring the Orc

“I thought we were training,” I retort in a low growl, scoffing at his protests. “Are you going to ask your opponents to ease up?”

Gritting his teeth, he turns away from me, stalking across the arena. But Varg is standing there when I turn around, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveys me. “Something you want to talk about?”

I slam my shoulder into his as I stalk past, letting that be all the answer I give, but it doesn’t deter him. Not when he mutters low, “Something like Emilia?”

I don’t even have time to think, my body acting on instinct as I grab him by the throat and slam him against the wall. “Don’t fucking say her name,” I snarl.

Just her name has me unraveling.

The memory of her in the kitchen flashes through my mind—her breathless gasps, the way her body responded to mine with such raw, unbidden need. It was intoxicating, consuming. One taste of her was not enough. It would never be enough. The thought of her, the feel of her, it’s all I can think about. I need more. I need to possess her, to claim her over and over until she knows she belongs to me completely.

Varg’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing with a knowing gleam. “You haven’t been the same since we won Emilia. Is the pussy really that good?” he taunts, his voice dripping with mockery.

His words ignite a firestorm of rage inside me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I growl, tightening my grip on his throat. “She’s more than that. She’s—” I cut myself off, not wanting to reveal just how deep my obsession with her runs.

Varg chokes out a laugh, his hands coming up to pry at my fingers. “Looks like she’s got you twisted up in knots, Jurto. Never thought I’d see the day.”

I snarl, shoving him harder against the wall. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, permanently.”

Internally, I know I shouldn’t act this way. This rage, this possessiveness—it’s not rational. But I don’t care. I’ve always taken what I wanted, done what I wanted. And with Emilia, it’s no different. She’s mine.

With a final shove, I release Varg, watching as he slumps against the wall, rubbing at his throat. “You’re losing it, man,” he croaks, but I’m done listening.

Turning away, I stalk out of the training room, my mind already filled with thoughts of Emilia. I’m done with practice, done with training. There’s only one thing I want, one thing I need.

She’s under my skin, and I know deep down that one taste will never be enough. I can already feel myself itching for more, craving to have myself buried deep in her with tears on those pretty cheeks.

And Emilia… Emilia will learn that she belongs to me, in every way that matters.

I scowl, frustrated with myself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was just a prize, a token of victory. But now, she’s something more, something I can’t easily define. I find myself thinking about her constantly, replaying the way she begged me to break her. It’s as if she’s infiltrated my very being, and it’s unsettling.

The aggression I felt earlier, the anger—it’s morphing into something else. Obsession. Possession. I want her, not just physically, but completely. I want to own every part of her, to have her know that she belongs to me and no one else. The thought of another man even looking at her fills me with a rage I can barely contain.

I try to shake off the thoughts, but they cling to me like a second skin. Her voice, her touch, her taste—they haunt me. I run a hand through my hair, growling in frustration. “Damn it, Emilia,” I mutter under my breath. How did this happen? How did one night with her turn my world upside down?

I think back to the way she looked at me in the kitchen, her eyes wide and filled with fear and something else—something that mirrored my own desire. The way she said my name, the way her body arched into mine, it’s all I can think about. And it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

My fists clench at my sides. I need to see her, to feel her again. The logical part of my brain tells me to stay away, to regain control. But the primal part, the part that’s driven by instinct and need, demands that I go to her.

I know I’m growing more attached to her, more obsessed. And it’s dangerous. But I don’t care. I’ve never cared about the rules, about what’s expected. I’ve always taken what I wanted, done what I wanted. And I want Emilia. I need her.

With a growl, I make my decision. I will have her again. I will possess her completely, until there’s no doubt in her mind that she belongs to me.

As I stalk into my home, the sound of scrubbing reaches my ears. Following the sound, I push open the door to my kitchen to find Emilia on her hands and knees, scrubbing the stone floor with determined focus. Her hair falls in loose strands around her face, and despite the menial task, there’s a fire in her eyes that captivates me.

A smirk tugs at my lips. I decide to provoke her, to see that spark of defiance that intrigued me so much before. I call over two orc servants who are passing by, their chuckles already bubbling up as they join me.

“Look at this,” I announce loudly, my voice dripping with mockery. “Our little human, hard at work. Isn’t she a sight?”

The orcs laugh, their eyes glinting with amusement as they watch Emilia. She keeps her head down, her cheeks flushing a deep red, but she continues scrubbing in silence.

“Hey, human,” I call out, my tone mocking. “You missed a spot right there.” I point to a random patch of floor, knowing full well it’s spotless. “Are you even capable of doing anything right?”

The orcs snicker, nudging each other as they watch. Emilia’s shoulders tense, but she doesn’t lift her gaze. She scrubs harder, her knuckles white with the effort.

“Isn’t it pathetic?” one of the orcs jeers. “A human, thinking she can keep up with us.”

“Maybe she’s just here for our amusement,” the other adds, their laughter echoing off the stone walls.

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