Page 8 of Captured By the Orc

The small space feels even tighter with her here. The air changes, charged with something I can’t name.

“Need a hand?” she asks, stepping in close. Her braid swings against her back as she moves. Practical. Simple. So why can’t I stop staring?

“Sure,” I grunt, shoving aside the unease. She grabs a knife, her fingers brushing mine. These human touches keep throwing me off.

She works smoothly, slicing through the vegetables like she’s done it a thousand times.

“Kara stew?” she guesses, eyeing the pile of chopped stuff.

“Right. Orc food. Good after a fight.” I chuck the roots into the pot. “Hearty. Fills the void.”

“Sounds perfect for ship repairs too.” There’s a smile playing on her lips as she adds some spice from her stash. And I like how she keeps surprising me.

Before long, we sit across from each other, the table barely big enough for our bowls. The food’s hot, steam rising between us, but it doesn’t hide how intensely she’s looking at me.

“Tell me about your home planet,” she says, breaking the bread with practiced ease.

“Harsh,” I start. “Strength is valued above all else.”

“Much like you,” she observes, taking a bite. Her eyes close for a second, enjoying the taste. I can’t look away.

“Perhaps.” I nod, watching her chew. “And yours?”

“Divided.” She swallows and opens her eyes. “Beauty marred by conflict. I’ve always sought harmony after serving in the military.”

“Naive,” I say before I can stop myself, but there’s no bite to it.

“Hopeful,” she corrects me, and though she’s smiling, her eyes are dead serious. They pull at something inside me, something I’ve been trained to ignore.

“Hope gets you killed,” I tell her.

“Despair does too,” she counters softly, her eyes locked on mine. “But slower.”

We eat in silence after that. The tension winds around us, tight as the coils that drive this ship through the void. I study her as she eats, the way her fingers handle the utensils, so different from my rough grip.

“Your people... do they accept you?” she asks, her brow furrowing.

“Acceptance isn’t given.” My chest tightens. “It’s earned, every day.”

“Must be exhausting.” There’s something in her tone that sounds like she gets it.

“Life’s a bitch. Best you can hope for is you die fighting,” I reply, the weight of years spent proving myself to my clan bearing down on me.

The silence stretches again, the ship’s hum in the background. I should be thinking about our course, the bounty, or rather the reward for returning her since the fucking warlords double-crossed me—but instead, I'm fixated on those blue eyes of hers, that mouth that's driving me crazy as she wipes it with the back of her hand.

“Garoth,” she says, and my name on her lips twists something inside me.

“Lila,” I answer without meaning to, admitting to the pull of her, like gravity, impossible to fight.

“Thank you for the meal,” she says, standing to clear our dishes. Her movements are smooth, a dance that shouldn’t captivate an orc. But they do, and I’m left staring after her, heat building in my gut.

In this cramped ship, with its cold metal walls and endless black outside, her heat slams into me, setting my blood on fire.

After we clean the dishes, we head back to finish working.

When the wrench slips from my grip, clattering on the cockpit floor, Lila snatches it up before I can, her quick hands moving faster than my eyes can follow. Her fingers brush against my palm as she returns the tool.

“Thanks,” I grunt, trying to ignore how her being so close sets my nerves on edge.

---