Page 2 of Her Rugged Orcs

The third... While the others command attention, this one seems to absorb the shadows themselves. His brown-green skin and long dark hair blend with the arena's dimness. When his silver eyes briefly meet mine before sliding away, the hair on my arms rises.

"Place your bets!" Pit Master Dex's voice booms across the arena. "Three savage orcs against our champion! Winner gets the pleasure slave!"

My stomach turns. The guards' grip tightens as I instinctively try to step back.

Pit Master Dex soon leans in close, his lips nearly brushing my ear. "The orcs fight to the death tonight. You will entertain the victor in whatever way they please."

My throat constricts and my fingers curl into the silk of my dress. I've pleasured countless men, learned to bend and yield without breaking. But these orcs... The largest one's bicep is thicker than my waist. One wrong move and they could snap me in half.

Suddenly, a horn blasts through the arena. The crowd's roar swells as the guards escort in their champion. My breath catches in my throat.

This new orc towers over even the other three, his shoulders broad as a doorway. Firelight glints off tusks polished to a dangerous sheen. Battle scars map his olive skin in a web of raised silver lines. His dark eyes soon rake over my body with such intensity that it sends a shiver down my spine.

"Our undefeated champion!" Pit Master Dex's voice booms. "Who will claim both victory and this delicate prize for their pleasure?"

The champion's lip curls in a sneer. His predatory gaze lingers on the curve of my hip, my throat, calculating. Not theway the nobles used to look at me - like a prize to be savored. No, this is the look of someone deciding how best to break a new toy.

Across the arena, the three chained orcs shift. The tattooed one's golden eyes narrow at the champion. The calculating one's fingers flex against his chains. Even the shadow-quiet one seems to bristle in anticipation.

My heart pounds against my ribs. Seven years of slavery taught me to survive by reading others’ desires, by becoming whatever was wanted. But what skills could possibly help me survive the savage appetite I see in the champion's eyes?

The guards' grips tighten even more on my arms as if they sense my urge to flee. But there's nowhere to run. No way to talk or charm my way free from this nightmare.

2

GRASH

The chains slice into my wrists, but I refuse to give these dark elf bastards the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. Torchlight flickers across the arena walls, casting moving shadows that mirror the restless crowd above. Their bloodthirsty cheers echo off the stone.

"Careful with that one," a guard snickers, yanking Grash's chain. "He bites."

The crowd's roar swells as two guards drag in a small figure. A human woman. My muscles coil tight at the sight of their fingers digging into her pale arms. She's a wisp of a thing, all delicate curves wrapped in a silk dress that's seen better days.

"Place your bets!" Pit Master Dex's voice thunders across the arena. "Three savage orcs against our champion! Winner gets the pleasure slave!"

Dren shifts beside me, a shadow among shadows. Murok's chains rattle as he studies the crowd, no doubt already plotting three different escape routes.

But I can't tear my gaze from her. Those green eyes catch mine across the blood-stained sand, and there's steel in theirdepths. No submission. Just pure defiance that makes my blood sing.

"Look at that delicious prize, boys," a guard sneers.

A growl rips from my throat. Murok shoots me a warning glance.

"Someone's eager," the guard laughs.

I've seen too many humans treated like property, paraded around like trophies for these pointed-eared demons. But watching them handle her like she's nothing more than meat for the market - it sets my teeth on edge. My cloak can't hide the tension in my shoulders, the way my hands curl into fists despite the chains.

Suddenly, a horn blast pierces the air, and my teeth grind at its shrill note. The so-called champion strides in, his bulk casting shadows across the blood-stained sand. His polished tusks catch the firelight - the preening bastard probably spent more time shining them than training.

"Our undefeated champion!" Dex's voice echoes off the stone walls.

The brute's gaze slides over the human woman's body like oil, lingering where it shouldn't. My chains creak as my muscles bunch. One snap and I could tear his throat out.

"Who will claim both victory and this delicate prize for their pleasure?" Dex's voice rings out.

The champion's lip curls, revealing yellowed teeth. His eyes trace her curves with the cold calculation of a butcher sizing up meat. The silk of her dress shifts as she takes a step back, and his grin widens.

My growl rumbles deep in my chest. The guard's whip cracks near my feet.

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