Her head swam when she moved, the forest around her spinning as bile rose in her throat. Groaning, she rested her head down for a second, not caring that it put her in a position of weakness. This had to be all an act. He was a cosplayer. Right? She cast a circumspect look at the bushes around them, expecting a TV crew to burst out at any minute. Perhaps the way out of this was to play along?
Lifting her chin, she gave him a challenging look.
“I’m telling you nothing, orc scum.”
The last word slipped out on a sneer, and she mentally patted herself on the back. That was some great acting right there.
He didn’t move, still sitting with his forearms rested on his knees. She’d already clocked the massive axe across his back and now noticed a smaller curved dagger at his waist. Wrapped leather boots completed the look.
“Orc scum?” He lifted an eyebrow, amusement flitting across his expression. “Wow, really going for broke. Aren’t we? Let me see… now I should threaten to rape and murder you and then defile your pretty little corpse. Shouldn’t I?”
She froze for a half second, fear clamoring at her throat. Okay, he was a much better actor than she was. She could almost believe he meant that.
Just an act, girl, just an act. Cosplayer, remember? These guys get real serious about their hobby.
“Defile? Just you touching me is enough, you bastard,” she hissed and struggled against her bonds, wriggling on the furs over the sparse grass.
There had to be some give in them, a way for her to escape, but the knots were tight with no slack for her to use and wiggle free. Realizing she was just wearing herself out, she gave up and looked up at him, a small huff escaping her lips. Through it all he hadn’t moved, just watching her with interest.
“Finished?”
“Untie me and I’ll show you how finished I am.”
He laughed, a rich roll of sound, and surged to his feet. Standing, he was even bigger. Intimidating. Her heart stalled as he loomed over her and then slammed against the inside of her rib cage in a rapid tattoo.
Oh shit. He was definitely a serial killer. He had to be. Fear ran rampant through her mind. This was it. He was going to kill her. Or worse. She flattened herself against the furs, trying to evade his grasp. If she could, she’d have made like an earthworm and burrowed into the dirt.
His hands grabbed the front of her jacket to haul her upright, and she bit her lip as pain shot through her arms. She wouldn’t show any weakness. They got off on that. Didn’t they?
“My name is Kelly. What’s yours?” she asked in an urgent whisper, trying to get him to see her as a person. That was important. Wasn’t it? Killers liked to dehumanize their victims so they didn’t see them as people, and she needed to get him to see her as a person, not a thing.
“Karak the Terrible.”
His massive fists tightened and he hauled her up until they were eye to eye. She tried not to whimper. He was huge and solid, causing her softer, feminine body to mold itself against rock-hard muscles. Her thin top lifted, the carved muscles of his chest hot against her bared flesh. Amusement warred with another, darker emotion as he looked into her eyes and then bent his head, his lips descending toward hers…
CHAPTER FOUR
He had no idea what he was doing. Karak stared down at the tiny female in his hold, struck dumb by her beauty. He’d never thought of faeries as beautiful before, but they were. Even he could admit that, if only in the safety of his own head. It was just the wings that did it for him.
But this one didn’t have wings, and her full lips were delicately curved and looked so soft…
He growled in need as he dropped his head and crashed his lips down over hers. She gave a start, her little body going rigid for a second, but he was having none of that. She was his, if only for now, and she would bow to his mastery.
Altering his growl to a near purr, he slid a hard arm around her tiny waist and yanked her up against him. A hard sweep of his tongue made her part her lips and he thrust past them to ravage the sweet softness of her mouth.
She whimpered, the sound almost lost under the assault of his mouth. But he heard it, and the little sound of need inflated his male ego as much as the thick ridge of his cock standing to attention and straining against the confines of his loincloth.
Her tiny hands coiled against his upper arms, going from trying to push him away to trying to drag him closer. Who was he to argue with a lady? Tilting his head for better access, he gave her what she wanted, sliding a hand into the glorious fall of her hair. He almost came undone there and then. It was so soft and silky, the strands caressing his tougher skin.
His groan rumbled in his chest as he slid a hand down to cup her ass, grinding his hips against the softness of her stomach. She was tiny but perfectly formed, her curves fitting against the harder planes of his body as though she were made for him. A sudden image of her naked and spread out beneath him filled his mind, a look of lust and ecstasy on her face as he filled her tiny body with inch after inch of his thick cock. His cock throbbed with need as he imagined her begging for it… as she would.
Everyone knew once you went orc, you never went back. It was the reason for this whole damn war in the first place. Once they’d had it once, faery women just couldn’t get enough of orc cock, a fact their males weren’t at all happy about.
She gasped, breaking the kiss to look up at him as she registered his thick shaft pressing against her. He savored the look of surprise and then the deep, dark heat that filled her eyes as she realized exactly what that was.
“That’s all for you, little one,” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. His knees were beginning to bend to lay her back down on the furs so he could part her legs and bury his aching cock balls deep in her softness when she opened her mouth.
The sound that erupted was a low, malevolent snarl—a sound he’d never heard any faery make before. Hell, he’d never even heard something so deep from any orc. A prickle between his shoulder blades warned him. He dropped to the ground, caging the little female under his body as the dragos demon sailed overhead, one of its claws slicing through the heavy fur of his cloak and drawing a line of fire over his back.
With a bellow of rage, he snatched up his war axe and leaped to his feet, already swinging the heavy weapon and hollering for Claw. Not a moment too soon, as the blades skittered off the demon’s scales when it leaped for his throat, Claw slammed into its side and knocked it back into the bushes around the small clearing. Branches snapped, the heavy, squat form of the demon totaling three bushes as it rolled. Its lethal long talons flashed for a second before it sank them into the soft earth to slow its slide. Seconds later it was back up again, red eyes glinting on Karak and the female cowering beneath his spread feet as he whirled the axe again.
“Come on then, yer bastard,” he snarled in thick orcish. “Let’s dance if you think you’re hard enough.”
Drool dripped from its partially open mouth, splattering the leaves it crunched underfoot as it stalked toward them. Its red eyes were alight with murderous intent. Karak didn’t spare a glance downward to where the female was crouched, huddled against one of his legs. He could hear her heartbeat from here, loud and panicked, and the scent of her fear was in the air.
His eyes narrowed, his jaw setting as the demon stalked closer. She should be afraid. Not of the demon. He wasn’t a rookie soldier on his first campaign, and this wasn’t his first time tangling with demons. He knew what he was doing. He’d run long and hard, crossing both magical and physical barriers to ensure the asshole thing couldn’t follow them.