Page 34 of Agor

I exhaled a long, wistful sigh. Resistance proved harder every time he asked.

“But I’ll never be able to give you a different answer, Agor.”

Even if there was some way in this world for an orc and a human to be together, what he offered wouldn’t make me happy. I was old enough to know that I couldn’t be content to spend the rest of my life as a man’s property. Belonging to an orc instead of a human wouldn’t be any different, no matter how great being in his bed promised to be.

“It wouldn’t work between us in the long run, Agor. There is more to life than just mind-blowing sex.”

“Do you think that’s all there is between us? Just sex?”

“What else can there be? It’s not like we can date properly.” I dropped my legs down, reaching for the ground with my tiptoes, but he heaved me up again, holding me under my butt. I took his swollen, blood-stained face between my hands. “Please, please leave before they hurt you again.”

He stared at me for a moment or two, as if fighting the urge to throw me over his shoulder and drag me into his den like a feral beast. With a deep breath, he finally set me down, allowing me to finally stand on the ground on my own two feet.

“Sooner or later, I will get a different answer from you,” he vowed. “I will claim all of you, little newt, every single part ofyou, including your heart. And I don’t care how long or how much it will take.”

Chapter 8

Agor

Burul, the blacksmith, clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“You need a horseshoe puller, chief. But you’ve got a hoof nipper, which you’re supposed to use after.”

“Right.” I put the tool back on the bench, then stared at the rows of pliers of various sizes, my mind drifting away.

Working with my hands often brought me satisfaction. I liked tinkering with things that needed fixing. It grounded me and helped me get my mind straight. In the three days since I escaped the human village, however, nothing helped me get control of my thoughts. They seemed to remain there, withher.

Burul released the horse’s leg. The short, stout animal danced on its hooves briefly, then reached for the bag of hay Burul had hung on a post nearby.

Horses weren’t of much use for us in the wetlands. Most forest paths were unpassable on horseback. But we had a few horses at the keep to work the garden patches we planted on a higher ground.

The blacksmith placed a hand on my shoulder.

“With the trouble Farod is brewing, you’ve got a lot on your plate, chief. Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll finish it here. A stein of ale might do you good. Maybe a good fuck to relax a little. You look stiff like my anvil.” He squeezed my shoulderbefore giving me a shove toward the path that led back to my house.

Grat caught up with me a few paces from Burul’s shop.

“Two more scouts were sighted on the Gooseberry Path today.”

I rubbed my chest against the feeling of unease that had been throbbing there for quite a few days now, but not on the account of Farod or his scouts.

“Sighted? Not killed?” I clarified.

Grat released a frustrated grunt. “They got away. Sadly. Probably came here looking for Urug, Irg, and the others.”

“Well, they can keep looking.”

“If they fail to find them, as you know they will, they’ll report to Farod that we killed them. There may be trouble coming our way, chief. Farod doesn’t know that the human girl killed Urug or that she had a hand in Irg’s death too—”

I stopped in my tracks. Grat shut his mouth, staring at me in question.

“No one is going to say a word about her killing Farod’s men.” I lifted a finger for emphasis. “Have I not made that clear?”

Grat straightened his back.

“Yes, chief. You have.”

“If anyone so much as whispers her name...”

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