Page 17 of Captured By the Orc

“Is that... for me?” I ask, surprised by the flutter in my chest. It’s such a human gesture, and it pierces through the layers of warlord and diplomat, striking straight at the woman beneath.

“Thought you’d like it,” he says and my heart squeezes harder. An orc, making me a flower—it’s ludicrous, touching, and completely out of place in this world of ours.

We sit to eat, and the food is surprisingly good, with rich flavors that speak of a home and warmth I’ve never known. But when he starts talking about his homeworld, about taking me there where I’d be safe, my spine stiffens.

“Safe? And what of my mission, Garoth?” I argue, feeling the weight of my responsibility like a mantle around my shoulders. “What of my people who look to me for guidance, for hope?”

“Your life is worth more than a mission,” he counters. “You cannot speak peace to those who only understand war.”

“Peace is all I have to offer!” I snap back, anger and fear mingling on my tongue. “I’m not a warrior, Garoth. I wield words, not weapons.”

We lock eyes and something unspoken crackles between us. It’s more than desire; it’s recognition—a mirror reflecting our struggles and doubts.

“I won’t run. I can’t hide while others suffer. That’s not who I am.”

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and I wonder if he sees the determination that’s carried me across the galaxy, or if he just sees a naive human girl playing at diplomacy.

“Garoth, you think whisking me away to your world is the answer? My people need me!” I shout, my words echoing in the cramped quarters of his ship. The metal walls seem to close in on us, trapping the heat of our argument like a pressure cooker.

He crosses those broad, muscled arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing. “It’s the only way to keep you safe, Lila,” he growls, and despite the anger, there’s a protective edge in his tone that tugs at something deep within me.

“Safe? And what about my mission? Peace is worth the risk!”

His scowl softens, just slightly. “I know you believe that...” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “But losing you isn’t an option for me.”

Those words hang between us, heavy as a supernova ready to burst. I feel his gaze, the weight of his concern. Despite everything—the danger, the differences—I see the truth. He cares. About me.

In a moment of impulsive recklessness—or maybe it’s raw desire—I close the distance, pressing my lips to his. The kiss starts gently, a question asked in the softness of our mouths meeting. But it doesn’t stay that way. It can’t be with Garoth.

He responds with a ferocity that ignites my blood, his hands tangling in my hair, releasing the braid so it falls around my shoulders. His touch scorches me, and I forget the war outside, the burden of diplomacy. There’s just him, here and now.

“Garoth,” I whisper against his lips, my heart pounding out a rhythm of want and fear. Want for this man, this moment. Fear for the future we can’t have.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmurs, his breath hot on my skin, and the plea cracks the last of my resolve.

“Tonight,” I agree, because that’s all we have—this stolen slice of time before reality crashes back in.

Our clothes are discarded like afterthoughts, lost in the urgency of skin seeking skin. The ship’s hum fades into the background as he lays me down, his body covering mine. It’s raw and powerful, the way he fills me completely, a connection that transcends bodies and breaches souls.

“Garoth,” I gasp, as he moves in me, a relentless force driven by a passion that matches my own. The sensation is overwhelming, a storm of pleasure that threatens to sweep me away.

“Look at me, Lila.” His tone is a command laced with tenderness, and I open my eyes to meet his. In them, I see the storm raging within him too, the silent confession that this is more than physical.

“Garoth,” I breathe out his name like a talisman as my climax rocks the very core of me.

After, as we lie entangled in the aftermath, I trace the bone ornaments in his braids, committing the feel of them to memory. I’ll carry this moment with me. But dawn comes too early.

“I have to go,” I whisper, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. They’re the truth, though—a truth I can’t escape any more than I can stop the rotation of the planets.

He doesn’t speak, but his arms tighten around me, a silent acknowledgment of the pain we both feel. It’s a beautiful agony, this love that cannot be, born amidst the stars and destined to burn out just as bright.

“Garoth,” I say, my heart shattering in my chest. For a moment longer, I let myself bask in his warmth, in the illusion that it could be different.

But illusions are for dreamers and I gave up my dreams when Earth blew apart in a million pieces and I could do nothing about it. But I can do something about my planet now and the people that took in us scattered humans like their own.

I allow myself a moment to hold the paper flower, to trace its folds and curves. It’s fragile like the possibility of us.

I set the flower aside. It’s just a distraction. He’s just a distraction. But even as I tell myself this, I know I’m already caught in the orbit in his orbit.

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