Page 10 of Bound in Flames

I nodded, the faintest hint of trust blooming in the pit of my stomach. He hadn’t needed to share that, but he had.Did he trust me?“You’re lucky they didn’t figure it out."

His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Human leaders are rarely in battle. It’s an oversight on the Crown to make assumptions on other races.”

The wagon lurched to a stop, and the guards shouted commands as the oxen were unhitched and led to a trough to drink. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. The plan had been forming in my mind, but the prospect of following through made bile rise in my throat. Dex gave me a quick nod. A small, dark grin curled at the edges of his lips as he whispered, “I’ll keep you safe.”

What other choice did I have? Dead was dead, whether I stayed here or gambled on an escape with this insane orc. My legs wobbled as I pushed myself upright, but I forced my shoulders back, summoning every ounce of false bravado I could muster.

“I need to relieve myself!” I called out, loud enough for the guards to hear. I sounded too panicked even to my own ears.

The guards exchanged weary glances, before one of them approached the wagon, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Don’t try anything.” he warned, unlocking the side of the cage, and I stepped forward at his instruction. My pulse roared in my ears as I edged toward the open door. He reached up and unlocked the chains binding my wrists to the top of the cage and my arms dropped instantly, the sharp ache of blood rushing back into my shoulders making me wince. Hours of being strung up like that had left my muscles tender and uncooperative, but I ground my teeth and fought to keep my movements steady. Any sign of weakness now would be an invitation for trouble.

The chains on Dex’s wrists were long enough for him to reach the opening, a fact the guards were painfully aware of. Another guard stood with his spear at Dex’s throat, the sharp tip trembling, a clear sign of how dangerous they knew an orc could be if given even a fraction of an opportunity.

"Move it,” the guard barked, grabbing my arm to haul me down. His hand lingered, the roughness of his grip pressing through the thin fabric of my dress, leaving an unwelcome heat behind. His other hand slid over my hip, possessive and invasive, sending a sick twist of dread curling through my gut. My skin prickled. Every nerve recoiled as his breath, hot and sour with ale, washed over my face. His voice dripped with vulgar amusement. " This will cost you later.”

Rage flared deep inside me, and before I could stop myself, my bound hands snapped up and backhanded him across theface. The sound was sharp, silencing the jeering laughter of the others. His lips curled into a sneer as his grip tightened like a vise. He was savoring the control he held over me. His nails dug into my skin and I could feel the heat of his fury. The fire in my chest burned hotter, threatening to spill over.

The guards were distracted for only a split second, but it was enough. Dex moved in a blur—faster than I thought possible—the clatter of his chains cutting through the air as he surged forward. He seized the spear and spun the weapon in his hands, the polished wood glinting as it found its target. He drove the spear clean through the man’s chest with a sickening, wet sound. Blood spattered in a wide arc, painting the ground. The guard staggered backward, his eyes wide with shock as he clawed at the shaft protruding from his chest, a futile attempt to stop the inevitable. With a shuddering gasp, he crumpled to the ground, his body landing in a lifeless heap that sent tremors through the dirt beneath my feet.

The man holding me froze for a fraction of a second and it was the opportunity I needed. I twisted in his grasp, my elbow connecting with his ribs. He cursed, stumbling, and I shoved him hard. He tumbled from the wagon, falling into Dex’s waiting hands. Grabbing the man by the throat, he slammed him against the wagon, the sharp crack of his head on the bars echoing through the air, before falling to the ground, dazed, blood streaming from the fresh wound.

"Keys.” Dex’s voice held a dangerous rasp. I stumbled down, dropping to my knees to fumble through his pockets until I found a set of keys. My fingers shook as I worked to unlock his cuffs, the cold metal biting into my skin as the sharp clamor of the guards scrambling for their weapons filled the air. Each noise sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through me. I could feel them advancing, their footsteps growing louder, and my heart hammered against my ribs. I was certain we were out oftime, certain they would strike us down before the lock gave. Just as despair began to creep in, the cuffs clicked open, and Dex pulled free with a growl. He launched himself forward like a predator with terrifying precision, moving like a force of nature. Each strike was calculated, every blow designed to kill. Blood sprayed, staining the dirt as he tore through them. One guard’s scream was cut short as Dex’s claws raked across his throat. Another fell with a gurgle, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

I snapped my eyes back to my wrists as I felt the release of the locks, the cuffs clattering to the dirt. My wrists ached, but the moment the enchanted metal left my skin, a surge of power roared back into me. It was intoxicating, a rush that made the world around me seem brighter and sharper. The dull greens of the forest deepened into rich emeralds, the air seemed warmer against my skin, and every sound felt amplified and vibrant. The magic coursed through my veins like liquid fire. It was sharp and overwhelming, making my knees weak and my head spin. I swayed, catching myself against the wagon, trying to steady the storm of sensations. Finally, the familiar hum settled, a comforting thrum that made me feel whole.

I watched as Dex stepped over the last fallen guard, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his claws. The sheer force and speed he had used to dispatch our captors left me breathless. He had taken down the guard with nothing but his bare hands, a brutal efficiency that seemed almost otherworldly. His strength was a reminder of just how different orcs were from humans, a towering predator amidst frail prey. The guards had been no match for his size, speed, or the raw power he wielded as effortlessly as breathing. For all the fear his presence should have inspired, I felt something else entirely. A strange sense of safety.

A flicker of movement at the edge of my vision caught my attention. The guard who had grabbed me earlier was still alive, dragging himself weakly toward the trees, a trail of blood marking his path with dark, uneven droplets. Dex followed my gaze, his voice dropping low as he asked a question that sent my thoughts spinning.

"Do you want the kill?"

I stared at the man, my heartbeat pounding in my ears like a war drum. "Will he die?"

Dex nodded. "Slowly. Painfully."

I walked toward the guard, where he dragged his broken body, each movement slower than the last. Kneeling beside him, I let the darker part of me rise to the surface. He recoiled as I leaned in, his fear fed the rage surging through me. No death would ever be enough to make up for what he’d done, but watching him squirm was a start.

When I spoke, my voice was low, sharp, and cold as steel. "I hope it’s slow. This is for every woman you’ve hurt, because I know I am not the only one."

The power that had returned to me hummed faintly, steadying my resolve. For the first time, I wasn’t the one trembling. I stood and didn’t look back, returning to my new companion.

Dex straightened as I approached the wagon, towering over me as he scanned me for injuries. His presence was overwhelming, like a storm on the verge of breaking, and I couldn’t suppress the nervous flutter in my chest. Every movement he made seemed to ripple with restrained power. He reached for me, his massive hands caressing my wrists where the cuffs had bitten into my skin. His touch was surprisingly light, his scarred green fingers tracing over the raw, reddened flesh. The contrast between us struck me anew. My smaller, bruised body against his towering, muscular one. His calloused fingersglided along my arms, searching for more injuries, and I felt a strange heat rise to my cheeks.

I was painfully aware of every orcish feature. His tusks, his sharp jawline, the predatory glint in his eye. Despite his sheer size and the lethal energy he exuded, I felt safer in his presence than I had in years. The realization was as unsettling as it was reassuring.

He paused when his eyes fell on the fresh cut at my temple, a wound I had nearly forgotten in the adrenaline of the fight. Brows furrowed, his thumb hovering near the edge of the wound, not quite touching it. “Forgive me, Cleo.” His voice was low, each word laced with barely restrained fury.

I nodded. “For what? It’s not your fault. I will be fine.”

He let out a deliberately slow breath, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “If this is fine, then I can’t wait to see what you call bad.”

A small, bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Your wounds look far worse than mine. Are you hurt?”

His lips curved into a humorless grin, his tusks catching the light.“Not even a scratch, little shaman.” he said, his voice rough like the rumble of thunder settling beneath my skin.

Butterflies stirred in my stomach, uninvited and entirely unwelcome. The way he said it—little shaman—was infuriating and yet, somehow, it made my breath hitch. I hated it. I hated the way my body betrayed me, responding to the smug tone of a stranger who, not a few hours ago, I’d been terrified of.

It had to be the adrenaline, coursing through me like wildfire, making me hyperaware of everything. His voice, his presence, the way he moved with an effortless confidence that left me off balance. I forced the reaction down. Whatever this was, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

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