Page 11 of Daghel

“It was instinct,” I reply flatly. “Drisk caught her scent and it could not be denied.”

His dark brow rises in response to my words, speculation clear on his face. “A wyvern’s choosing, eh?” He hums deeply to himself and exchanges a long look with Ajek that I pretend to not see. “That does change the complexion of things just a little.”

Suspicion curls deeper within me.

“Perhaps you should just tell him, rather than keep him in suspense, my lord,” Ajek offers with a deep chuckle. “The drehl does not know what to make of such things. It is clear that, if not for Drisk leading the way, the male would not even know what to do with a female, much less go about acquiring one. Who allows a wyvern to choose in this age rather than seize the initiative for himself? I am certain that the wyvern will have to demonstrate how to mount her as well.”

“Clearly,” Vorn rumbles, his gaze focusing on me with open amusement.

I stare straight ahead as I wait for him to get to the point. Beneath the ice around my heart, anger boils and seethes, the darkness stretching forth with skeletal fingers but restrained… for now.

Vorn lets out another bark of deep laughter and turns away from me, his long cloak sweeping in a wide arc around him. “Very well. As things stand, I shall allow you to keep your mate, but on one condition.”

I cock my head, betraying my curiosity despite myself. “What condition?”

Vorn whirls around, a broad grin stretching obscenely across his face. “He speaks!” Chuckling, he stalks back across the room toward me. “The condition is a simple one, drehl. As Irequire Ajek’s attentions elsewhere, you will swear fealty to me and personally act as my hand.” He stops in front of me, his gaze sweeping thoughtfully over me. “You will be my show of might among the Cold Mountains. You have long been content to live on the fringe of the clan, doing only as much as what is absolutely required of you as a gathol while the entire clan fearfully defers to you.”

I slowly blink at him. Defers? “They are terrified of me. I am a curse upon the clan.”

“Yes!” Vorn agrees, as he lifts his hand to grasp my shoulder. “Exactly. You are a drehl, but more than that, despite your ill repute, the clan respects your power and looks to it with a certain amount of awe and reverence as if you are Durethikal himself. I wantthatin my corner.”

A heavy, dark weight gathers at my core at the invocation of the name that few dare to even whisper. Vorn is far too bold.

“You would do well to hope that I am not the son of Vepra,” I growl.

Vorn pauses, his expression darkening slightly as he regards me, but he brushes away my response with a wave of his hand. “Of course not. But you will be a very useful… symbol. And in exchange, I will allow you to keep your mate. Breed more drehl if you like. An army of them. And in turn, I will elevate what it means to be drehl for the future generations to come.”

My eyebrows rise. What he offers is no small thing. I do not trust it, especially not an offhanded comment about breeding an army of drehl. He is making his intentions far too clear, but Drisk and I can play along if it means that our mate will be safe.

“Very well,” I growl, and the darkness roils and grows within as a pleased smile stretches once more across his face.

Chapter

Seven

ANYA

I’m no fool. Although I’m certain that my captor does not intend any harm to come to me while I’m waiting for him on this rock, I can see the predators beginning to gather and circle. My gaze flicks warily among the small handful of males stalking toward me deliberately. They keep their movements casual as they laugh amongst themselves, but I don’t let down my guard.

With their varying hues of gray, they remind me of a pack of wolves milling together in excitement upon catching the scent of blood from weakened prey. Not one of them is as ghostly pale as my captor, however, nor are their eyes as void of light as his dark stare. While he could easily be confused for some sort of vengeful wraith, they very much appear to be flesh and blood males with their eyes bright with interest and their broad chests moving with their excited pants. I can’t say for sure which I find more comforting. A few spectators gather on the outskirts to eye me curiously. Among them I spot many females, orc and human both, and they wear mixed expressions of concern anddisapproval, the latter aimed toward the males closing in around me.

A tall female pauses in passing, a frown pulling at her mouth as she peers in our direction, her gray coloring bearing a hint of marble blue that sets her apart from many other orcs besides her height. She sizes things up quickly and her brow furrows as she pushes her way forward, brushing a thick braid over her shoulder as she glares at the males.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands. “You know our laws. She arrived with Daghel. Unless he releases her to the clan, you court death by toying with her.”

Her voice rings with authority, and several of the circling males immediately step back, heads bowing in submission—all except three, and among them a male of a muddy greenish-gray coloring grins at her in challenge.

“The drehl?” The male grunts with laughter, and it is quickly picked up by his companions. “Linahna, you must be joking. Drehls do not have females. You know this as well as we do, or else you would have mated with him long ago. That he dared to take her is a punishable offense. Vorn is dealing with Daghel as we speak, and I would advise you not to interfere. As far as this female goes—she is available to whichever male skewers her on his prick first.”

Is that so?It certainly confirms a few things in my mind. I have no idea what a drehl is, but this Daghel is as distinct as I initially thought—perhaps more so given his apparent untouchable status. But if this male or any other thinks I’m just going to spread my legs and let them mount me… I don’t think so. If any skewering is done, it will only be at my whim. I may be a soiled courtesan, but my right to choose is not something I will ever surrender.

My jaw hardens as I make my move, striking low and quick. My elbow plows into his stomach with all my strength,but I’m not dismayed when it doesn’t do more than make him grunt in surprise. I didn’t believe for even a moment I could incapacitate him, but it is just the right amount of distraction and momentum needed that I’m able to pull the longer dagger from its sheath at his side and make my escape before he can stop me. His claws do manage to snag my coat, and the sound of ripping material is a reminder of just how close he came to seizing me as I dance out of the way.

The male’s snarl fades as he regards me for a long moment, only for him to throw back his head with laughter. “Clever little female. Now give me my blade,” he orders, his hand stretching out to me in silent command.

“My pleasure,” I reply in a dulcet tone that makes him smirk expectantly.

The fool. He expects a kitten. Let’s see him deal with the claws.

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