“Not safe? What do you mean not safe for me?”
But Karak didn’t answer her, instead whistling for Claw, who crashed out of the undergrowth nearby with a bone half hanging out the side of his mouth like a cigar.
“Karak! You get your green ass back here and let me out!” she bellowed as the two orcs strode away with the scaled dog at their heels and disappeared into the early morning mists. Cuffed to a pole in the middle of the camp, and not in a fun way, was definitely not how she’d wanted to start her day.
“Fucker. Don’t need him anyway,” she growled, crouching down to look at the vine around her wrist, like the different angle would make things clearer. It did not. All she saw was yet more leafy tendrils. She tried to peel them away, only for them to shimmer, the green giving way to what looked like steel.
“Great. Just great.” She huffed to herself and then eyed up the pole. Standing on her tiptoes was out, she wasn’t tall enough to loop her arm over the top and get loose that way. But… if she could knock it loose, she could lift it out of the ground completely.
“Hiii…yah!” she declared, channeling her inner child and kicking at the pole.
She found out two things. One, trying to kick a pole while cuffed to it leads to gut-twisting contortions. And two, said pole was rather firmly entrenched in the ground. The shock waves that ran up her arm were purely a bonus.
“Bollocks.”
Defeated, she slumped against the pole and sat down. She couldn’t get free, stuck here on her own, and—something hit the ground next to her, exploding as dirt sprayed everywhere.
She screamed.
Faery bombs. They were being bombed. Literally bombed.
And she was tied to a fucking stick.
Crouching down, she covered her head with her arms.
“Karak, when you get back, I am going to fucking kill you!”
But Karak didn’t return for hours. More bombs had exploded nearby but none of them as close as the one that had taken out the firepit right next to her. She figured that was a lucky shot.
Orcs filtered past the two tents and her pole but almost none of them looked her away. Those who did looked right through her, their bruised and battered faces and forms eerily similar to images she’d seen of soldiers returning from war.
But they were dreaded beasts. Orcs. Monsters. She couldn’t feel sympathy for monsters… or fall in love with one. Definitely not fall in love with one. She shook her head. She had no idea where that thought came from. Must have been the stress.
She noticed movement in the mists that had descended on the camp since early morning, and then Karak appeared, striding toward her. She gasped at the blood and bruises that covered him.
“You’re back!” she whispered as he reached her and crowded her back against the pole, claiming her lips in a hot torrent of a kiss.
She tensed as anticipation of his harsh kisses and brutal but sexy caresses surged through her body. For a second, she compared it to Steve’s soft fumbles with the lights off, but the thought scattered when his tongue parted her lips and drove inside. Humming with pleasure, she met him kiss for kiss, each hot slide and tangle driving her need for him back up into the heavens.
“Of course I am. I would never leave you. You’re mine. Remember?” he growled against her lips and drove his hands into her hair.
Pulling her away from the pole, he folded her in his arms and kissed her as if she was the last woman in the realm. Wrapping her hair around his fist, he pulled her head back to expose her throat. Not painfully, but firmly. No nonsense. She didn’t have a choice and didn’t want one.
Hot lips descended on the tender skin of her throat, over the pulse that pounded with excitement and need. She clung to him, her hands on his broad shoulders and her legs trapped between his spread thighs. Her knees gave, unable to support her, but he held her easily. Breathy moans and pleas broke from her lips as he spread a large hand over the back of her hips to press her against him.
She whimpered as his cock prodded her soft belly. Oh lady, he really was huge. She knew that from last night, but ohmygod he really was massive.
She ached, needing to be filled again. She needed his cock, wanted him to fuck her again as hard as he had last night. Harder. Faster. Until she didn’t know where he ended and she began—
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Karak. Put your little toy down. Would you?”
The mocking voice broke the spell. She jumped, squeaking, as Karak lifted his head and tucked her against him. His entire stance protective, he glared at the orc king who’d materialized next to them.
Batak’s bright silver eyes were amused and vaguely mocking as he looked at them, noticing Karak’s hold on her. Longing filled his eyes for a second, but then he blinked and it was gone, leaving Kelly to wonder if she’d seen it at all.
“Go screw yourself, Batak.”
She caught her breath. That was the second time Karak had been downright disrespectful to his king. Instead of ordering his ever-present troll guards to lop Karak’s head off, all the king did was laugh, as though he found Karak highly amusing.
“Kinky. As well-endowed as I am, that’s still impossible. Now put her down—”
“Never. She’s mine.”
Karak tightened his grip to the point she couldn’t breathe. Whimpering as her ribs were crushed, she pushed against his shoulders. He eased up a fraction but didn’t let go, his dark gaze still locked in a battle of wills with Batak.
“Technically, she’s Oonais’s and bitch queen wants her back. Since I just signed a treaty, we have to play nice.”
Batak turned his attention to Kelly, his silver eyes hard now.
“It’s your lucky day, sweetness. You’re going home.”
CHAPTER NINE
She was gone. Kelly was gone.
Karak snarled as he paced around the practice ring, the other warriors whooping and hollering as he faced down his fourth opponent of the morning. Even during a truce, the orcish army conducted combat practice. Especially during a truce. Orc-kin were highly competitive with violent tendencies and little self-control. Without the regular bloodshed of the battlefield, half of them would be dead within a week over petty arguments. There was no way to “command” an orc army as such. The only thing was to point them in the right direction of the enemy and hope they didn’t start fighting each other on the way.
Karak circled, his troll opponent firmly in his sights as fury and pain surged through him, as unquenchable as dragon’s fire. Thanks to that silver-eyed, wily-tongued bastard of a king and some words on a scroll, he’d lost the only thing he’d ever wanted. He’d lost Kelly.
She’d be back behind the faery lines now, laughing and dancing among her own kind in the endless dances and parties the winged freaks seemed to revel in. He ignored the pain lancing through his chest as he whirled his war-axe over his head.
Would she ever think of him? Would she miss him? Did she have a fucking great gaping hole in the middle of her chest as well?
His opponent feinted to the right but attacked from the left. Karak’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he blocked, the troll’s blow glancing off his upraised arm. This was so easy it was laughable. Spotting an opening, he moved in, gathering himself for a vicious attack.