“You do not question your grak. You do not interfere with his rulings. And most of all, you obey me. Is that clear, female?”
When I don’t answer, the tip of Grak’s sword moves under my chin and guides my head up to look at him. Those hulking muscles ripple with restraint as he holds the sword, awaiting my answer. He snarls showing off the long white tusks, reminding me that he is more beast than man. But his eyes, dark green with black dots swirling in agitation, don’t hold the full breadth of his anger as I had expected.
Despite having a sword at my throat, I’m not shaking. He wouldn’t kill me minutes after diving into the lake to rescue me. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. Perhaps it’s how he looks at me with… hope.
Carefully, I touch the flat edge of the sword with the utmost respect that it deserves, mostly because I’m not ready to give Grak the respect he demands. I let my finger slide down the smooth steel, almost caressing it as I admire the beauty of the finely crafted blade.
As I slide my finger up and down, the image of Grak’s naked body enters my mind. His cock was massive. If I give in to his demands, he’ll hurt me. He’s simply too big. But there’s more to this male than his size and he tried to share it with me when he turned his back on me and entered the water. He wanted me to see those scars.
Why?
A back full of scars, but only a few on his front. Combat scars would be random, different sizes and depths, like those on his chest. The ones on his back were too perfectly spaced, similar to the ones on his right cheek.
The same as the two on the young orc’s right cheek.
There’s so much I don’t know about these beings and I don’t want to know more. I just want to go home.
They don’t want you. Your sire sold you to us because he saw no value in keeping you.
The truth hurts. But sometimes, it’s what a person needs to hear.
Even if that person is an orc.
“You think because someone cut your back and face that you can do the same to this kid? You’re wrong, Grak,” I say as I rise. “That abuse won’t get you the respect you want. You’ll only cause him the same pain you experienced.”
“Pain shapes an orc. Sojek will learn from his mistakes. When he touches the scars on his face, he will remember those lessons. As for you, female?—”
“He was injured. I wanted to help him.”
“Female,” he continues with a slight growl. “I don’t like asking questions twice. Will you obey me?”
“What will you do to me if I don’t?” I temper my voice. Grak looks irritated, but not enraged. I’m not sure I could handle that side of him.
Handle? One does not handle an orc. I am so screwed.
Grak sheathes his sword. “You will obey me. As for your punishment, I will render that when we reach our territory.”
Oh, God, I struck him earlier out of anger and reflex. I’m his according to a treaty, and that’s all he recognizes. The fact that I never agreed to any of this has no bearing for him.
“I only tried to help him,” I reply, trying to sound strong, but I’m failing. Miserably. I might not be able to save myself, but perhaps I can help the young orc. “You can’t blame him for my escape, especially since I didn’t technically escape. I hid.”
Grak raises a brow. “Sojek was punished because he touched you, without permission. No one touches what is mine.”
ATOX IM GRAK
“It was an innocent touch,you brute! He didn’t harm me,” my female shouts at me, once again forgetting that I will not be disrespected. Or perhaps it is intentional. I cannot be sure what game she plays, but I see the flashing of my warriors’ tusks. They expect me to control her.
“Sojek, take the cart and proceed to Pen’Kesh. Pick up the tools that thieving moxxel owes us. Baloc and Telin will accompany you.”
Sojek’s eyes dart to Bazok and then Telin. “What do I do if the moxxel does not listen to me, Grak?”
“You will convince him. Bazok and Telin have their duties, which does not include overseeing you.”
Sojek may be young and inexperienced, but he is orc and shares my blood. He has greatness in him, if only he would focus more. He will not fail me, but neither will I put him in a situation in which he cannot prevail.
My warriors will intervene if Sojek endangers himself, though they are there mainly in case any vints cause trouble. Vints move and attack in packs. Sojek does not have a warrior’s skills to survive such an encounter.
“I will not fail you, Grak,” my nephew says as he slams his knife to his chest, his face stern and his eyes so like his mother’s.
