Page 3 of Wagered to the Orc
Why? Was I going to collapse into his arms? The male had saved me from John, aye, but he was here to take us all. He was no hero.
Still, I couldn’t help the way I swayed toward him, as if I wanted him to comfort me.
Mayhap I would have begged for it—being a weak female—had his mouth not curled into a disgusted snarl, and he turned away, shaking his head.
Then Roxanna was there, and I allowed myself to fall into her arms, grateful for the chance to hide my humiliation and terror in her embrace.
Oh God.
Everything would change, would it not?
I don’t believe I actually fainted…it just felt that way. Roxanna held me, then I was being lifted. The orcs were yelling, and I was being held by a different male now, his arm too tight around my waist, so tight I couldn’t draw a full breath. Then we were riding, the pounding of the horses’ hooves thundering in time with my pulse.
The terror, the panic, the daze…it all blended together until I couldn’t process what was happening.
But the longer we rode—farther from home, from what little safety I had known—the worse the tightness in my chest became. I couldn’t breathe, and the male who held me kept touching me. One hand held the reins, and the other…
The first time he casually palmed my breast, as if he owned me, I went very still, refusing to breathe. He squeezed it too hard, as if ‘twere a berry and he was checking for ripeness. He kneaded my flesh, and in that moment, I knew my terror had only just begun.
This monster viewed me as a spoil of battle. He touched me like this because heownedme. I was naught to him, even less than I had been to John.
And when he was done with me, thisextra female who was worth less than the others, the orc would pass me to his fellows, the other warriors who had fought for us.
Unable to stomach the horror, I leaned sideways and vomited, spilling the meager contents of my stomach down my arm, over his green thigh and saddle.
“Fooking hells!”
The bellow over me caused me to jerk in surprise, slam backward against the monster’s chest. Heyanked on the reins just as his free hand jerked away from me, disgusted by the mess I had made.
I couldn’t help it; I retched again—partly from fear, partly from pain, partly out of relief he was no longer groping me.
His palm slammed into my shoulder, and thankfully the horse had halted, because the blow knocked me sideways. With a helpless cry, I fell from the animal, landing on my hands and knees in my own vomit.
The big male behind me swung from the saddle as the others halted as well.
I did not want to look up, to see their faces. I did not want to see Sorcha and Roxanna and their fear.
‘Twas easier to keep my head bowed, to shiver, to focus on the pain in my limbs from the jarring fall.
But a large hand closed around my arm—not the one John had bruised, thank goodness—and the monster yanked me upright. ‘Twas the male who had held me and pawed at me and was now glaring at me with his nose wrinkled as ifIwas the disgusting one.
“Ye puked on me.”
Did he expect me to apologize? I was trembling too hard to force my tongue to form the words. Around us, others were talking, and I could hear my cousins’ voices, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from my captor.
The incredulity in his expression turned to anger, and he lifted one hand.
Do not flinch.
My mother had taught me that, learned from a lifetime of being a lesser human in the eyes of men. When they hurt me, I met their violence as stoically as I could, although sometimes I couldn’t help my tears.
As his palm cracked against my jaw, I thoughtAt least it was not his fist.I could not fall, thanks to the hold he had on my arm, but I sagged, my entire face throbbing.
My entirebodythrobbing in pain, sorrow, fear.
“Spoils.” The word came from behind me, a growl of challenge. “I have a wager to collect on.”
The male holding me spun about and I stumbled along, turning to face the ugly beast who had slayed John.
