Another snarl brought her back to her current reality with a jolt, and she screamed again as the nightmare hound snapped and snarled behind them. The woods around them became little more than a blur of gnarled, twisted trunks and blackened vegetation.
The jostling made her feel travel sick, especially when fur-guy took a huge leap. She screamed as the ground fell away, and they bounded from rock to rock up what seemed like a vertical cliff face.
“Ohmygod, please don’t drop me,” she gasped, gripping the fur under her hands tighter as she closed her eyes. It was that or throw up down his back. She didn’t want to do that. He might throw her off.
The snarls and growls of their pursuer faded into the distance, but she kept her eyes firmly shut, even when they slowed down. In fact, she only opened them when she was heaved off her shoulder perch and dumped on the ground.
“Hey, asshole, be careful!” she snapped, opening her eyes to glare up at her careless rescuer.
She found herself looking up at the biggest green dude she’d ever seen. In fact, she wasn’t sure he was a man. He was more like a mountain.
“Nope,” she declared, her mind well over its OMG meter for the day and high tailing it straight into “hell no” territory. Scary nightmare dogs were one thing, but big green dudes were a line she wasn’t prepared to cross.
“Nope, nope, nope.”
“Are you defective, female? I haven’t asked anything yet.” He leaned forward, his voice like a rockslide and his dark eyes narrowed as he glared down at her.
“You… you’re… you… green!”
She scuttled backward, her heart pounding as he followed her, looming over her to block out the sky above. With a squeak, she scrambled to her feet and ran like her life depended on it.
CHAPTER THREE
The little female stared at Karak in horror before she gave out a gods-awful screech, turned tail, and ran away.
“Seriously?” He grunted, watching her in bemusement for a moment as she hared off into the woods. Uphill, where the terrain would slow her pace dramatically.
Shaking his head, he followed at a slower pace with Claw at his heels. Had she not seen the dragos demon that had tailed them nearly halfway across the Wasted Woods? It had taken nearly all of Karak’s speed and agility to outwit the creature. Dragos demons weren’t the most intelligent demons out there, but they were tenacious and a pain in the ass once they’d gotten your scent.
And this little female’s scent was one of the most alluring Karak had ever encountered. Given his sense of smell wasn’t anywhere nearly as sensitive as a dragos demon’s, he’d had to dig deep to put distance between them, crossing several magical ley lines and stomping through more physical barriers like running water to get it off their trail.
But the female didn’t seem the slightest bit grateful that he’d stopped the demon eating her face off, nor did she seem likely to… thank him any time soon.
And his feet were wet to boot. He growled as he stalked after her. He fucking hated getting his feet wet.
Bloody faeries… Ungrateful little shites. He growled almost continually under his breath as he followed her. She cast a frightened glance over her shoulder. Her scent swelled with fear, and then she shrieked and changed direction without looking.
“Hey, wait!” he called out in warning. “You’re going to—”
Too late. She ran smack bang into the twisted, blackened trunk of a large oak tree. Her head crashed into the bark with a sickening crunch. He winced as she dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
He made it over to her in three long steps and bent down to scoop her up into his arms. His concerned gaze drank in her appearance. She was still breathing, so that was a good thing… but he really had no idea about what was healthy for a faery, especially since he’d never seen one quite this tiny before.
She was a pretty little thing… No, he corrected himself now he could see her properly. She was beautiful, in a soft-skinned and easily damageable way. Unlike an orc, she had skin so pale that it was almost translucent. He could easily see the blue tracery of her veins beneath it. Her hair was a fiery fall of curls over his arm.
He stood beneath the twisted oak, transfixed by the unconscious female in his arms. The pull of attraction was surprising. Instantly he rejected the notion. She was a faery, and he couldn’t be attracted to any of the fae-kin. No way, no how. He had some standards. Not many, admittedly, but some.
The fae were distant, very much inferior cousins to the orcs, but neither race wanted to claim the kinship. He’d killed so many of them over the years that he’d lost count. He’d never once looked at one, and unless he needed information, never felt anything apart from an overwhelming desire to rend any faery limb from limb.
Carefully, he adjusted his hold and hefted her gently into his arms. The rise and fall of her chest under her strange tunic made him release a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She was okay, just out for the count. Even the cut on her forehead didn’t look so bad—just a graze that had only welled a little blood before starting to scab over.
Turning, he continued walking through the woods, clicking his tongue so that Claw followed him. It didn’t take him long to reach the small clearing he generally used when patrolling this area.
Dropping his bedroll to the ground, a flick of his magic had it spread out. Gently, he laid his little captive down and flipped her over. Her hair spilled over the furs, the sunlight turning the fiery mass into a blaze.
She fascinated him. Him. Karak the Terrible. Karak the Destroyer. Karak the…bloody confused over why he was mooning over a mere slip of a faery girl.
“I need my head checked.”
Slowly, he reached a hand out to touch her hair. Orcs didn’t have hair the multitude of colors the fae had. They had shades of black, and that was it. Nothing even close to the rich, warm tone of her hair… like the red of autumn leaves. Autumn had been his favorite season as a child—the rich colors, the crisp bite of the approaching winter. That had been before he’d gone to war. Now any season was good for killing.
He shouldn’t have kept looking at her, but he did anyway. Her eyelashes were dark, fluttering against the pale skin of her cheeks and her lips. They fascinated him. Small and plump, with a full curve to the lower one he wanted to nibble on.
It struck him… She was his. His prisoner. He could do whatever he liked to her. Torture her to amuse himself until the battle in the morning. Kill her. Strip her naked, spread her out on his furs and take her.
Heat raged through his body like wildfire, finding its home in his groin. His cock ached, hard and ready for action in a heartbeat. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the physical discomfort and stood up. She was a faery, his prisoner, and he needed just one thing from her.
Information.
Stomping around the cold and dead firepit, he searched nearby until he found fixings for the fire and then lit the little stack with a flick of his wrist and a surge of power. The pit burst into bright green-tinged flame, drawing sustenance from the air and Karak’s own power. Claw grunted, apparently satisfied with Karak’s fire-making skills, and turned several times in a small circle, stamping down the grass until it was acceptable and then flopping down with a grunt. Flicking his tail over his face, he shut out the world and promptly started to snore.