Page 3 of Running from the Orc
It was that moment I realized how lost I was.
Another moon’s cycle.
The old legends said the orcs raided only on the nights of the full moon. ‘Twould be another month before the stone circle allowed us to return.
And by then ‘twould be too late.
I pressed my lips together, determined to swallow the sob that threatened to break lose, and felt my shoulders slump.
“Dinnae fash, lass,” the orc at my back murmured against my hair, so low I could barely hear him over the thunder of the hooves around us. “All will be well.”
How could it?
I had been stolen from the only home I had ever known. Aye, only a few hours ago I had been planning on joining my older sister’s new household, and the three of us were giggling about our new adventure as we studied the coital positions in theHarlot’s Guide.
But this?This was no adventure.
This was a nightmare.
Mayhap some sounddidescape my lips. Or mayhap my body betrayed me, succumbing to the urge to shake in anguish. Whatever the cause, my captor seemed to sense my despair.
He shifted me up on his thighs, pressing me closer, his arm squeezing me in a way whichshouldhave been disgusting, but instead made me feel…protected.
“I swear, lassie, I’ll keep ye safe—”
“’Tis Roxanna,” I snapped, the sudden anger giving me strength. “I am notlassieorlassorwenchorbitchor any of those other things I have been called. Lady Roxanna Tarbert.”
The orc at my back was quiet for a long moment. Then, “Bitch? Wench? What male would dare call ye that?”
“The ones who do not see my value,” I shot right back, staring straight ahead. “Those who think because I have a pair of tits, I am naught more than a vessel for their lust. Those who do not see my strength and skill and cunning.”
He made a little noise of understanding at my back. I expected him to argue, to defend his fellow males, to tell me Iamworth less because I am a woman.
Worthless.
Instead, though, he merely said, “I see your strength and skill and cunning, Lady Roxanna Tarbert.”
It was… Well, it bloody wellshould nothave been sweet. Should not make my anger melt away. But it did.
I did not know how to respond, how to fight. The male at my back—theorcwho held me—might know all the right things to say, but I had always known I could not trust a charmer.
“I am Varkaan,” he finally said, “if ye care.”
“I do not,” I bit out stiffly, although my hands were resting atop his forearm where he held me and I stared straight ahead. “I do not care to know aboutanyof this. I want to close my eyes and go to sleep, and when I wake, I will be back home in my bed.”
“Varkaan, son of Klaar, of the Clan Bladesedge,” he went on, as if I hadn’t spoken. “That is my aulder brother Drakolt, our chief, holding his new Mate. My twin brother Korvak is the ugly brute glaring at our cousin who carries yer cousin. I suspect Korvak will take her soon.”
That did naught to assuage my worry, and I twisted around to see the males he spoke of amongst those thundering beside us.
“Yourbrother,” I gasped. “Who…”
“The chief.” He—Varkaan—used two thick fingers to indicate the huge male galloping at the front of the pack, carrying Sorcha. “And his Mate.”
He’d said that a moment ago, and now my throat went dry as the meaning sunk in. “Mate?” I managed to whisper, certain the word would be lost.
“Aye, pretty wee human. We bargained with yer human escort to leave ye unprotected tonight because we needed Sorcha, daughter of Laird Tarbert. ‘Tis foretold she’s Drakolt’s fated Mate, and will bear the son who will unite our clans.”
Fated Mate. Son.
