Page 19 of Agor the Merciless
“Fears what?”
“Losing you.”
Zoe tried to see the situation from Agor’s perspective. This wasn’t the casual cruelty of her family, the deliberate diminishing of her worth. This was terror of abandonment. It didn’t excuse the ropes on her wrists, but it changed the shape of his actions from simple tyranny to something more complex.
“That doesn’t give him the right to tie me up.”
“No,” Pira agreed, rising from the bed. “It does not. But the captain must discover this truth himself.” She gathered her basket. “He will come. Tonight or tomorrow. He will come, and you will speak your heart to his.”
Before leaving, Pira tugged the heavy furs up around Zoe’s body, tucking the edges with care.
“Thank you,” Zoe whispered.
Pira paused by the entrance. “You are one of us now, Zoe Fire-Hands. The horde sees you. The captain will learn to see all of you, too.”
Her footsteps faded down the tunnel until only silence remained. The last candle guttered, its flame surrendering with a wisp of smoke. Zoe lay wrapped in darkness and furs, thinking about what Pira had told her. The women before her had broken, and he had let them go. His fear of losing her, the one who hadn’t broken, was so strong it drove him to bind her rather than risk her leaving. Pain from her wrists cut through her thoughts. She wouldn’t be a treasure to lock away or a doll for a shelf. She was Zoe Cross. She built engines and she would build her own future. She wouldn’t break. And she would make him see all of her, not just the parts that pleased him.
The night passed in a haze of pain. Her shoulders ached from hours in one position. Her throat was raw with thirst. Dawneventually came, but the room was so far into the back of the cave that light wasn’t what gave it away. Zoe heard birds calling from outside, the sound echoing down the stone passages into the gallery. Then she heard boots scraping against rock. The footfalls slowed, hesitated, then continued down the tunnel.
Agor appeared in the entrance, his bulk filling the space. Dark smudges bruised the skin under his eyes, and his braid was half-undone, strands escaping as if he’d run his hands through his hair all night.
He stood motionless, his gaze fixed on her. He took a step into the gallery and extended his hand toward her.
Zoe’s body went rigid under the furs. Her eyes locked onto his, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Don’t you dare touch me.”
Chapter Eleven
Agor stopped. Her words made him flinch. This wasn’t the fear he’d seen in the other women’s eyes. This was anger.
He had walked the camp all night, crushing pine needles under his boots as the moon crossed the sky, preparing explanations he now couldn’t remember. Zoe hadn’t broken in his arms, under his weight, nor under the pressure of his demands. But the trust between them had.
Leah had cried on the first night, begging to go home. Elena had strung him along for three days before she admitted she couldn’t do it. Agor recognized when a woman couldn’t handle his needs. But Zoe glared at him, her back straight even with her hands bound above her head. In trying to keep her, he’d given her every reason to leave.
Zoe studied his face, and her open scrutiny made him hesitate. Eventually, he moved toward her, which caused her to push herself back against the wall. He knelt on the bed, and the furs sank under his weight. Without speaking, he reached for her wrists and untied the knots.
Blood rushed back into Zoe’s hands with a stinging pain. She opened and closed her fists, taking it easy and slowly, leaning into the feeling of pins and needles that was so annoying. Red welts circled her wrists where the rope had rubbed all night. She didn’t take her eyes off the orc captain. She watched as he got up and moved to the wooden trunk in the corner. He lifted the heavy lid, and the hinges creaked. From inside, he retrieved a small clay jar, the one he’d used the night before – their first nigh together. A knot formed in Zoe’s stomach. As he returned to her on the bed, he dipped two fingers into the ointment.
“No.” Zoe pushed herself backward. “I don’t want it. Don’t you dare use that on me.”
His face was a mask of neutrality as he crawled toward her. She was cornered. She couldn’t get away from him, and after a night of lying in the worst position, she didn’t trust herself running across the uneven floor without spraining an ankle. He would catch her, anyway. He was that big and strong. Plus, she didn’t want to run from him. She just wanted him to see that he could do better than… this.
“You don’t get to decide,” she said, eyeing his coated fingers. “Not after what you did.”
He said nothing and just kept coming. Her back hit the wall. He reached for her, jar in one hand, his other arm coming down across her chest and shoulders. She couldn’t move under his weight. She shoved against his chest, trying to twist free, but it was useless. Her wrists ached as she struggled.
“Get off me!” She dug her heels into the furs but couldn’t get any leverage. “I’m not your prisoner!”
“Stop fighting,” he said.
Zoe jerked against his arm, but it didn’t move. “Get that stuff away from me.”
Even as she protested, her body betrayed her. The memory of the ointment’s effect sent a deep warmth through her. He ignored her fussing and brought his coated fingers to her right wrist. His touch was gentle as he spread the medicine, slash aphrodisiac over the raw skin. The coolness lasted only a moment before a deep heat spread through the area. The red marks began to fade almost immediately.
“See? It heals,” he murmured, reaching for more.
“That’s not all it does.”
