Page 15 of Agor the Merciless
Grol circled the vehicle, his brows furrowed in disbelief, but a brief smile touched his lips before he forced it down, replacing it with a gruff nod.
“Hmph. It works.” His eyes narrowed as he studied Zoe. “You have skilled hands. For a human.”
“You built this?” Zoe ran her palm over the vehicle’s metal frame, tracing the welds and joints. “It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Orc car.” Grol’s chest swelled with pride. “My design, this one. Human vehicles are too small, too weak. This carries six warriors and supplies. Goes anywhere.”
“Even through the deep forest.” Tarn patted the dashboard. “Nothing stops it!”
“Except timing belts, apparently.” Zoe grinned.
Tarn laughed, a booming sound that echoed through the workshop. After a moment’s hesitation, Grol joined in.
“Perhaps you can teach Tarn about timing belts.” Grol nodded toward his son. “The boy has good hands but an impatient mind. Skips steps.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“We have more engines.” Tarn pointed to the back of the workshop where shapes lurked under canvas tarps. “Many problems. Many challenges.”
Grol cuffed his son’s shoulder. “The captain’s mate doesn’t need to fix our engines. She has... other duties.”
Zoe’s cheeks warmed, but she lifted her chin. “I’d like to help. If the captain allows it.”
“The orc car needs more work.” Grol gestured toward a half-assembled transmission on a nearby workbench. “Could use hands that know what they’re doing.”
Tarn bounced on his toes. “And I found something when we last went to town. Something special.”
He looked to his father for permission. At Grol’s nod, he rushed to a corner, throwing back a heavy tarp to reveal a gleaming motorcycle frame.
“Human machine. Fast. Needs work.”
Zoe stared at the motorcycle, her breath catching.
A large shadow fell across the floor, darkening the workspace. Grol stiffened, his chuckle cut short. Tarn’s smile vanished. The air in the workshop grew heavy, and Zoe turned, her laughter fading.
Agor filled the doorway, blotting out the sunlight. He ground his teeth against his tusks. His eyes locked on Zoe, narrowed and furious.
He had searched the entire camp for her. He’d asked the orcs where she was, but no one had seen her leave. The possibility that she’d run, like the others had tried before he’d agreed to return them to the institute, was his greatest fear. Or worse, that someone had taken her. And then he’d heard laughter from the garage.
Seeing her now, safe and whole, should have brought relief. Instead, a hot possessiveness surged through him. She stood there, covered in grease, smiling at Grol and his son, comfortable in their presence when she was supposed to be waiting for him. His relief twisted into a raw need.
His mate. His.
Before Zoe could speak, Agor crossed the space in three strides. His hand shot out, fingers closing around her upper arm – her right arm, the one that had been broken. His grip was unforgiving. He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at the other orcs. He turned and pulled Zoe toward the exit.
“Agor? What are you doing?” Zoe stumbled, trying to match his pace. “You’re hurting me!”
He ignored her words. The pressure on her arm sent a jolt of pain through the healed bone, making her gasp.
“Stop! I was just helping with the engine!” She tried to dig in her heels, but it was useless. “Agor!”
Grol took a half-step forward, then stopped when Agor’s head snapped toward him. The captain’s glare was a warning that made even the older orc back down.
“Please,” Zoe’s voice caught as she was dragged from the garage. “You’re scaring me.”
He didn’t stop until they reached their private gallery deep within the cave. The journey was a blur of rough stone walls and flickering torches. He shoved her through the entrance. Zoe stumbled forward, losing her balance and falling onto the pile of pelts.
She pushed herself up, turning to face him. Agor stood silhouetted against the entrance, his frame blocking any chance of escape. The torchlight caught the fury in his eyes. His chest heaved with each breath, his fists clenched at his sides.
