Page 61 of X'nath

Gracie laughed, shaking her head. It was a beautiful sound. I vowed to myself to make her do it more often between fucking her. "You’re both impossible."

Yet, it didn’t escape my notice that neither of us were being shown the door. Another small victory in the ongoing game.

I sat beside her and unceremoniously shoved the weasel off her lap. Yargol hissed in protest, scrambling to cling onto her, but with a swift leap, he grabbed one of the furs with his mouth and tugged it down to the floor, clearly unimpressed with my interference.

Yargol glared at me with those beady little eyes, his tiny paws gripping the fur as if it were his throne. I smirked at the weasel's defiance, though it was clear he wasn’t about to let me steal his spot without a fight.

"You really think you're going to win this one, little furball?" I said, reaching down to snatch the fur from his mouth. He squeaked indignantly but held on tighter, causing me to chuckle.

Gracie watched the exchange with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression, but there was a softness in her eyes that made my chest tighten. "You two are ridiculous," she muttered before taking another sip of tea.

"I’m just trying to make sure you’re comfortable," I said, pretending to be serious as I tugged the fur away from Yargol’s grip, finally throwing it over my own lap. "And that includes making sure your lap is free from rogue weasels."

Yargol, not to be outdone, jumped onto the edge of the bed beside me and bared his teeth in the most comical attempt at a growl. It was clear he wasn’t giving up his claim easily.

"You’ll have to do better than that to keep me away," I teased, with a satisfied grin.

Gracie let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair, and I caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. My eyes widened in mock horror as she snatched the fur from my hands and handed it over to the little traitor himself.

“Are you choosing the menace over me?” I asked, feigning indignation.

She took another sip of her tea, placing the cup gently on the table before returning to my side, her expression calm but mischievous. “There are plenty of furs. Yargol taking one won’t make a difference,” she replied, her voice light and unbothered.

I stared at her for a moment, half-amused, half-exasperated. “I see how it is. Betrayed by my own mate,” I muttered, crossing my arms as Yargol, content as ever, curled up in his newly claimed spot.

Gracie chuckled softly, leaning back against the wall beside me, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Is that what I am? Your mate? How do orcs even identify a mate, or is that just a term for the one you choose to fool around with?”

I blinked at her, momentarily thrown by the question. Was this a trick? Hadn’t I shown her, time and again, that no one elseheld even a fraction of the place she did in my heart? It wasn’t something I had considered with anyone else let alone let them claim.

I leaned in a little closer, my voice dropping to a soft growl, purposeful and steady. "Do you really need to ask,lak’osh? You are the song that stirs my soul, the pulse that drives me to fight. Without you, I am just a warrior with no reason to return. Yes, I fight for the clan, for survival... but with you by my side, I fight tolive."

36

Tides of the Past

GRACIE

The nightmare slammed into me with an oppressive weight, and I couldn't escape the darkness in my mind. It started slow, like the crawling sensation of something lurking just out of sight, but it didn’t take long for it to overtake me.

I was back there, in the human settlement. The bruises had finally began to heal as my husband dragged me toward the docks. Struggling against his grip, he grabbed my air and jerked my head back harshly, snarling in my face.

“You’re worthless. A waste of my time. I could have been making sons for my empire while waiting on your pathetic body to catch up to my needs.”

I let out a hysterical laugh, my mind long gone after the years of abuse. It didn’t matter anymore, nothing did. I knew this was going to be the finality of my life.

“Is that what you tell all your whores? I don’t recall any of them baring you any sons either,husband,” I spat, half hoping he would finally kill me before he went through with whatever his next plan was.

With a harsh shove, he threw me to the ground, knowing full well that damaged wares sold for far less than what he wanted. He taunted me by kicking beside my head, but missing it by mere inches.

“What are you doing, you bastard? How am I supposed to sell something that doesn’t work?” came another masculine voice, laced with disgust.

I turned my head slightly, catching sight of my husband's business partner—a man whose presence reeked of greed and something far darker. I had never imagined slave traders could look so polished, or perhaps I had simply let my own assumptions paint them in a different light. If I had passed him in a crowd, I never would have guessed the vile dealings he was involved in.

With money exchanged, the man grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away from one hell into the next. The nightmare changed scenes and I was back on the slave ship, chained with other women beside me. The ship’s creaking wood was beneath my feet, the salt air burning my lungs as it mixed with the stench of sweat and desperation. My ex-husband’s venomous and degrading words echoed through my mind, each one like a sharp blade cutting deeper into the scar tissue of my past as the ship rode the waves to an unknown destination.

No matter how I tried to close my eyes, to become resigned to my fate, his voice sliced through my thoughts, twisting them into something far more suffocating. The humiliation, his cruel laugh, it all hung in the air like the odor of rot. I saw it like it was yesterday—the cold, leering face of the slaver, the shackles cutting into my wrists, the way I had no choice but to follow their orders, to be pushed from one cold hand to the next. My body was to become nothing but a tool, and I had learned to accept that.

The scene blurred, shifting. Suddenly, I was drowning, salty water burning my lungs as I kicked and swam as hard as I could against the waves to breach the surface. I was lost at sea, drifting alone with nothing but the dark, endless horizon. Panic rose in my chest as the waves crashed against me. Thoughts of letting it all go flashed before my eyes. How easy would it be to drink a bit more until I no longer needed to breathe?

---