Page 17 of Shared By Two Orcs

Yamarz grunts, and already, my body is on fire again. But I feel so torn. I like Duma, and I am just as attracted to him. I wanted to let him watch me yesterday in the water until I got a better grip on myself.

But I also want Yamarz to pin me back up against this wall and make me forget my fucking name.

Is it so bad to feel this desire with two men? It’s not like I am serious with either of them. We are just exploring the chemistry we each feel and I never intended to hurt anyone. I haven’t planned any of this.

“It wasn’t?” Yamarz challenges, his eyes boring into the side of my face. Even without looking away from Duma, my body is electrifying with the promise in his deep growl.

But then Duma shifts forward, and I feel the yearning for him, too. I want to soothe him, to see him smile, to feel his lips on my skin.

Fuck, this has gotten complicated fast.

“It was nothing,” I snap, turning to glare at Yamarz even though it makes my stomach flip to face him again. But then I whip to look at Duma, equal anger in my voice. “Not that it matters, either way.”

And then before either of them can say anything more, I storm away from them both, even though my body is screaming to go back. I loved the domineering way that Yamarz took control of my body and the hot ass tension between us, but I also love the way that being with Duma is a breath of fresh air and I know that being with him would be endless pleasure.

How did I do this? I couldn’t have found two orcs more different and yet, I want them both. And now, I fear that I’ve dug myself into a hole that I didn’t want just by giving into my desires.

Why couldn’t they just give into theirs, too?

9

DUMA

“What are you doing with Willo?” I snap. “You can’t just sneak in here and start kissing her. I was seeing her first.”

“Listen,Dummy,” Yamarz retorts pointedly. I try hard not to wince, though it’s certainly not the first time I’ve heard that insult in place of my name. My parents probably could have thought that one out better.

At this stage of my life, I thought I was out of the reach of such juvenile remarks. Apparently not. It isn’t clever, but it is annoying. I do my best not to let Yamarz see any kind of reaction. If he knows it bothers me, I’m doomed.

“She can spend time with whoever she wants, right? If she’s ready to trade up for a real orc, who is going to stop her? Certainly not you,” he scoffs, eyeing me like I am something pathetic he scraped off the bottom of his shoe.

There’s a part of me that wants to punch his face in, right then and there. But there’s another part of me, smaller but still important, that just can’t quite seem to drum up the level of fury necessary.

Not because I don’t like Willo. I’d fight for her in a second if I had to. It’s because of the little voice in my head that can’t help thinking he’s right.

For better or worse, I’m kind of desensitized at this point to orcs treating me like I am second-rate. It’s happened all my life. Growing up with my two brothers who could do no wrong, it didn’t take me long to realize I’m at the bottom of the chain.

It continues to this day, with my crappy job on guard watch, a position they only give the lunkheads who have proven themselves useless in every other endeavor. It never really bothered me much. I guess deep down, I like who I am, even if no one else does. Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke, I always say.

Except in this moment, when it comes to Willo, I can’t help thinking thatI’mthe joke. Would she really pick me over someone like Yamarz? Suddenly, my stomach feels all knotted up at the thought of finding out.

But I’m not going to let this dipshit know that.

“Maybe she went with me because she’s not into orcs who look like they shaved their face with tree bark,” I fire back.

Something glints in his eyes, and I know the words stuck. His hand twitches toward the scar on his left cheek but stops just before it touches the skin. Still, the involuntary reaction is enough for me to know I’ve hit a nerve.

I double down. “You look like your mother let a rodan chew on your face as a baby.”

It’s not true. Even with the scar, he has an appealing face. The markings only prove his strength, and that he’s a good warrior. If you took one look at my pretty, unblemished face next to his, you’d immediately peg him as the tough one and me as the pretty one.

But I’m not going to admit that to the orc trying to steal Willo from me. I’m trying to push him away, trying to force him to give up. If the way to do that is a dirty blow, so be it. By the look on his face, I know my words are working.

His nostrils flair, and for a second I think he’s going to hit me. My first clenches, ready to strike back before I can even think twice. He’s a lot bigger than me, but I don’t care. Jerk has a lot of nerve making a move on Willo when I saw her first.

We stare each other down, our shoulders tensed, our breath short. Each of us is waiting, just barely holding in the urge to tear the other one apart. He shuffles his feet apart in an offensive stance, just in case I throw the first punch.

I want to, of course, but there’s a little voice in my head that says that isn’t the right move. I have a lifetime of pent-up regression from other orcs putting me down. Nothing would make me happier than using it to wipe the smug look off his stupid face.

---