Page 5 of Orc's Mate

Fear coursed through my veins as I hobbled through the dense forest, trying to find a path with only the light of the sketchy moonlight filtering through the trees above. My right leg protested each step. I’d long since accepted my leg would never perform the way I wanted, but it burned in my belly that even in this, the time when I needed it most, it still failed me.

With each blink of my eyes, I saw Zur lying dead on the floor again, and it was all I could do to keep from sobbing. But something like that would draw attention.

If I let my sadness consume me, I’d collapse. Then the orcs would find me—or something equally horrifying.

Twigs and leaves crunched beneath my feet, and the sound of my erratic heartbeat was a steady thrum in my ears. I slowed my pace. Better to move carefully than announce to the world I was here.

“You think the orcs didn’t see you leaving the fortress?” I whispered as I stumbled over a branch I didn’t see in time. With a wrench to the left, I caught myself before falling to my knees. Each of my gasping breaths felt strained, as if the air was thick with dread, adding weight to my chest.

A low, rumbling growl reverberated through the trees, making my blood run cold. Pausing, I peered around, searching for the source but seeing nothing but shadows flickering, mocking my vulnerability. Shivers rippled across my skin, but I kept going. If I could find a place to hide, I could stay there until morning. The shaydes would return to their dens, and the orcs would leave the area, right?

I didn’t know the answer to that question.

I couldn’t return to the fortress. My way out of the trap I’d found myself in was through the woods. Would another village take me in if I told them what happened?

If my friends and neighbors believed I was a murderer, so would strangers.

I reached a small clearing peppered with new growth trees and started weaving through them to reach the other side.

Rustling echoed in the bushes along the edge, and I froze, a deer locked in place by terror.

A pack of hungry ashenclaws emerged from the thick woods; surrounding me before I could make a peep.

My heart leaped into my throat, choking off my wind, and I backed against a sturdy tree. I looked up quickly to see if I could reach a branch and pull myself out of their reach, but the branches were too high to reach.

The ashenclaws’ eyes gleamed with merciless hunger and were fixed on me like a pack of relentless demons thirsting for fresh prey. Panic clawed at my chest, urging me to flee, but my leg would continue to betray me. There was no way I could outrun them.

Spying a stick lying on the ground, I hefted it and swung it in a circle, brandishing it like I could actually use it to defend myself.

They stalked closer, encircling me in a noose. The tops of their heads came to my mid-chest, and their thick, ashen gray fur that gave them their name glistened in the moonlight. Claws as long as my pinky finger dug into the soil as their muscles bunched in preparation to lunge toward me.

Predators, they hunted in packs, their vicious teeth hamstringing prey. When the victim fell, they’d rip out their throat.

Then, they’d feast. It didn’t matter if the person was still alive.

I tried to swallow, but the mass of fear in my throat kept it from going down.

The hoots and shouts of orcs hunting a bride echo through the trees, mingling with the ashenclaws’ low growls. Fate itself was conspiring against me, forcing me into a situation with no way out. Tears blurred my vision, but I sniffed them away. If I went down, it would only be with a fight.

The ashenclaws tightened their circle, snapping their jaws with hunger. I poked the stick toward the one closest in a futile attempt to intimidate it. But the rest only grew bolder, their feral eyes narrowing on me. Their heavy paws brought them so close, the rank smell of their breath clouded my senses.

I’d fight them off as long as I could. Even when my parents abandoned me, I hadn’t given up. Only now did I remember grabbing a stick then like I did today, determined to do all I could to survive.

A fierce growl pierced through the darkness on my right, and an orc stalked from the forest into the open area.

He leaped up and over the line of ashenclaws like a vengeful deity, a thick staff in his hand.

His eyes locked on me with an intensity that sent both fear and relief coursing through my veins. I’d either have my throat ripped out by the ashenclaws or I’d be claimed by this orc—this I knew in my heart.

Gnashing his tusks, the orc charged at the menacing ashenclaw pack, swinging his weapon with lethal precision. The crack of the staff against snarling jaws echoed through the stillness, shattering the grip of terror holding me captive. In this violent dance between predator and predator, he was my unexpected savior—a fierce warrior protecting what he must see as his future bride.

My breath caught as I watched him leap and strike, each powerful blow unleashing a wave of wild, desperate energy that ignited my instincts. His long black hair tinted with unexpected green swung across his shoulders, and his thick muscles bulged beneath his greenish-gold skin as he relentlessly defended me.

This is not the orc my village told stories of—an untamable monster—but a guardian driven by something I couldn’t define. I was torn between running from the ashenclaws and my unexpected need to protect the enormous male risking his life to save mine.

His smooth skin glistened in the moonlight. He released a battle cry and vaulted at one ashenclaw after another, showing a breathtaking display of strength and agility.

When only one ashenclaw remained standing, the orc stalked toward it.

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