Page 31 of Orc's Pretend Mate

He growls as he makes a slashing motion with his hand. The quiet one watches me closely. I feel his silent gaze, observing and noting everything. My estimation of him being the true threat becomes ever more certain.

“Order her,” the loud one demands.

“No,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes widen and his mouth hangs open. He is all but shaking with rage but I remain calm, meeting his emotions with careful non-resistance.

“You dare,” he hisses.

“She comes,” I say.

He takes a step forward in an attempt to be threatening. I do not move or react. Holding my place is the best I can do and more than I should, but I gave her my word.

Yes. My word. That is why I do this.

I know the lie when I think it but it is easier to lie to myself than to confront the truth. Besides I do not really know the truth. Suspect, wonder, curious, these are not truth. Truth is… truth.

“If you stand in our way I will report you,” he hisses.

His breath is as foul as he is. Everyone knows the Maulavi are hoarding the best of our dwindling resources for themselves, but I wouldn’t think it by the odor of his breath. He smells like he’s been dining on raw sewage. I struggle to not gag at its assault on my senses.

“She—”

“Hello?” Phoebe asks, stepping up behind and stopping my words before I finish.

I glance over my shoulder and shock hits hard and fast. She is… stunning. I thought she was beautiful when we were about to be intimate, but dressed as she is takes her beauty to an entirely new and different level.

Her soft belly is exposed, outlined between the layers of cloth of her pants and her shirt which she has bound so it ties just beneath her full, luscious breasts. Her cheeks are colored a soft pink and though I feel her fear and uncertainty, it doesn’t show in her stance or in the timbre of her voice.

“She is to come with us,” the loud Maulavi says, stepping to the side and moving forward to pass me.

Phoebe gasps, soft and barely audible, but I do not miss it. My heart aches knowing she is afraid and I have to resist the almost overwhelming urge to destroy this Maulavi for causing her fear. I throw my arm out, blocking his progress. He hisses and pushes against my arm but I do not let him move me.

“No,” I say, keeping my voice level and even.

“We operate on the order of the Shaman,” he says, his voice raising until it cracks when he says ‘Shaman’.

“She is mine,” I say.

“Yours?” he sneers. “What right do you think you have to her? We put her here and we will take her away.”

I meet his glare, refusing to let myself look away. This is the moment. The dangerous game we’ve been playing comes to a head right now. Will the Maulavi respect our traditions or have we, as a people, fallen too far?

“She is my dragoste,” I say.

Phoebe plays her part. She steps close and places her hand on the small of my back. The touch, her warmth, even her presence is all that I could ever need, giving me strength to hold fast against my own fears and doubts.

“Dragoste,” he spits the word, spittle spraying across me. “Impossible.”

“It is not,” I say.

My strategy is simple. Say nothing more than I absolutely must. Anything extra they will use against us. The Maulavi are experts at manipulation and twisting things to their own ends. Look how the Shaman and they have wrested control of all of us. He sputters a moment before stopping and then taking a step back. He narrows his eyes, his lips pursing into a hard thin line.

“You lie,” he says.

Instead of answering in words, I growl. Moving slow so that the threat is implied, but not too overt. I lower my arms to my sides and lean forward. He doesn’t back down, leaning in too.

My heart beats faster as adrenaline hits. I’m ready for him to push just a little further. One more insult, one more challenge,and I’ll have no choice but to make him regret stepping foot into my home. Where that will leave us though, I have no idea, but I cannot, will not turn her over to them.

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