Page 31 of Orc's Little Human
I burst into a small clearing just as Jorth steps into Selene's path, his scarred face twisted into an ugly grin. Mazg flanks him, blocking any escape route back toward the stream. They haven't seen me yet—their attention is entirely focused on Selene, who has Thali pressed protectively behind her.
Fuck, the way she protects my little sister does something to me.
"Well, well," Jorth says, his voice thick with malice. "Look what we found wandering around without their master. Again."
My blood doesn't just heat—it ignites. Everything in me screams to spill their blood across the rocks, to teach them exactly why crossing me is the last mistake they'll ever make. These worthless dogs dare to threaten what's mine? Dare to put fear in my sister's eyes?
"Once was a coincidence." Mazg adds, taking a step closer. "But twice…it's like she wants us."
The rage that fills me is beyond anything I've felt since the night my parents died. It's not just anger—it's something primal and violent that turns my vision red around the edges. My hands shake with the need to tear them apart, to paint the ground with their entrails.
Mol's words echo in my mind:The men think you've lost your taste for blood.
Maybe it's time to remind them exactly why they should fear me.
"Chief Korrath doesn't share his toys," Jorth continues, apparently oblivious to his impending doom. "But maybe it's time someone reminded him that he's not the only one with needs."
I don't announce myself. I don't give warning. I simply move.
My hand closes around Jorth's throat before he even realizes I'm there, lifting him off his feet with enough force to crush his windpipe. His eyes bulge with shock and terror as he claws uselessly at my arm.
"You seem to have forgotten something," I say, my voice deadly quiet. "Let me remind you."
I draw the blade from my belt—not my ceremonial weapon, just a simple iron knife meant for practical tasks. But iron is iron, and in my hands, any blade becomes an instrument of absolute destruction.
I drag the edge across Jorth's cheek, not deep enough to kill but deep enough to leave a scar he'll carry for the rest of his worthless life. His scream echoes off the rocks as blood streams down his face.
"I am Korrath Draegon," I continue conversationally, as if I'm discussing the weather instead of carving up his flesh. "Chief of the Blackmaw Clan. Son of Vraek the Destroyer. I have spilled more blood than you've seen in your miserable existence."
Mazg tries to run. I drop Jorth like the worthless sack of meat he is and catch his companion before he makes it three steps. My fist connects with his jaw hard enough to crack bone, and he goes down hard.
"And you," I say, grabbing Mazg by his hair and hauling him to his knees, "thought you could threaten what belongs to me?"
The knife finds his face next—a shallow cut across the jaw that will heal so that a scar marks him as well. Every time he looks in a mirror, he'll remember this moment. He'll remember what happens to those who test my patience.
Both of them are staring up at me now, equal parts fear and anger on their faces as blood drips down them. Good. Fear is the only language they understand, and I've given them a lesson they won't soon forget.
"If I ever see you within fifty paces of either of them again," I say, my voice carrying the promise of death, "I will not be so merciful. I will take my time. I will make it last days. And when I'm finally done with you, I'll feed what's left to the worgs."
I straighten, wiping the blood from my blade on Jorth's shirt before sheathing it. Both orcs scramble away like the cowards they are, leaving trails of blood in their wake.
Only then do I turn to face Selene and Thali.
My sister looks a little shaken but unharmed, pressed against Selene's side with her small fists clenched. But it's Selene's expression that gives me pause. She's not looking at me with horror or fear. There's a slight edge of relief in that expression, and I feel like a bit of respect.
The violence is still singing in my veins, the satisfaction of spilled blood making my magic hum with contentment. This is who I am. This is what I do. I am not a gentle man, not someone who can be softened by a woman's touch or a child's laughter.
I am a killer. A destroyer. And I've just reminded everyone within earshot exactly why that should terrify them.
The problem is, I know I've also just handed Varok exactly the ammunition he's been looking for. He'll hear about this within the hour—how the great Chief Korrath lost his temper over threats to his human pet, how he spilled clan blood over a woman who should mean nothing to him.
But as I look at Selene and Thali, as I see them safe and unharmed, I find I don't give a damn about Varok's opinion.
Some things are worth the risk.
"Come," I say, my voice still rough with lingering rage. "We're going home."
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