~ Thank you so much for reading!! I recommend starting from chapter 1. If you just want the hot stuff- skip to page 3~
Astera wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She sat as close to the fire as she dared. The almost too-hot burn felt soothing against her numb skin
.
Morning light glowed through the curtained window.
Just a little while longer, then I'll get up.
Soarruk stood by the window, strapping on his blackened leather armour. The blade of his battle axe was resting against the table. The morning light glinted off the blade, its freshly polished surface reflecting the room back at her. When she had woken Soarruk had already been dressed, obsessively cleaning the blade.
"This inn reminds me a little of my bedroom when I was young," Astera said. "My mother loved to tell me tales about your kind- the fae I mean. My favorite was about a water sprite. I remember my mother told it to me many times." She smiled faintly. Her eyes caught on the small flames within the hearth. "It was just a children's story, the sprite wanted to become an explorer... Have you heard of it?"
She could hear Soarruk moving closer, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots. He paused for a moment to answer her, "No."
"Will you share one of your orc stories with me if I tell it to you?" Astera asked. She finally dragged her eyes from the glowing embers to look at him.
Soarruk eyed her apprehensively. His eyes darted between her and the flames. He strapped his last bracer into place, flexing his wrist. Their armour wasn't as complicated as humans- bracers, a leather chest plate that was worn like a shirt, and leather greaves over their trousers.
Her eyes travelled over his form, taking in the tight-fitting armour. It made her stomach churn to consider why he thought the armour would be necessary now.
We haven't even left the bloody city yet!
"We must leave soon," he said.
"I was just thinking... if we have stories about your kind, you must have stories about us?" She pressed.
He crossed the room and picked her dress up from the floor, holding it out to her. "Aye, we do. Would you like me to sully your beautiful tale with stories of battles and gore?"
Astera turned back to the fire. She didn't raise her hand to take the dress. "A story for a story," she said firmly.
He flashed her a grin, revealing his sharp incisors, "I know only a few of our tales you might understand." He crouched down so she was forced to look at him. "My personal favorite is of King Kilmac, who won his human bride by sword fight."
Astera's hands clenched into fists around her blankets. "I asked for a story, orc, not a history lesson."
Soarruk chuckled, turning her face towards him with the tip of a claw, "And we don't have any of the sort. I have been patient with you this morn. We must leave soon." He was crouching too close, his body heat nearly as effective as the flame, her dress dangling from one of his hands. The whisper of cool silk against her hot skin made it pebble.
When she still refused to take it, he sighed. He used another hand to rip the blanket off her shoulders. His tone turned to a frustrated growl, "If you do not dress, we will never make it out of this room."
She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. The air felt freezing. Soarruk paused, eyes slowly washing over her naked form. She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the dress between them.
His voice was husky, "Shall I dress you myself then?" He slid his hand across her stomach, gripping her hip and giving it an appreciative squeeze.
"No," she tried to make her tone sound cold, but it came out a little breathless. Thelfare was the furthest she had been south. Once they left the city... She was terrified of what was to come.
She was so focused on glaring at him she didn't realize he was shoving her dress over her head until it was too late.
His hands were suddenly all over her, squeezing her thigh, grabbing a handful of her ass to lift her slightly, pushing one of her arms through the sleeve of her dress. Some of her fear was forgotten, heat rushing through her body at his touch. Then her dress was on. Soarruk pulled away and quickly stood.
Astera was breathing heavily. She glared up at him, her hands shaking slightly as she pulled her sleeve up properly over her shoulder. For a moment it looked as though the heat she felt was mirrored in Soarruk's expression, his dark eyes drinking up her movements.
But then it vanished, his expression guarded again. Cold and calculating compared to his deliberate touch. Every muscle in his body seemed coiled tight, anger simmering beneath the surface. He was the orc king, powerful and hungry and he had total control over
her
, not the other way around. He would not let her forget that.
He moved first, turning back to the table to grab their saddle bags. He spoke with his back to her, "I will not carry you outside."
His tone was icy. She was reminded suddenly of their first night together, how he'd dragged her to his tent, his hand over hers, crushing her fist as he forced her to undress him
. I cannot push him too far.
She still had the letter to worry about. The people here needed her help. Soarruk's agreement had been conditional. His words echoed through her mind, '
We must arrive at the stronghold without issue
.'
She tried not to dwell on the impossible task as she stood and grabbed her cloak. Reluctantly she followed him out of the room and into the tavern.
The other orcs were waiting for them in the stables. Soarruk's horse was already saddled. The sun was climbing high overhead, the morning almost over.
Their horses moved slowly through the streets. They all seemed eager to leave the city. It was a little alarming how used she was to Soarruk's possessive hand around her waist, tightening every time they passed another group. His frustration grew more and more palpable at the stifling crowds.
It was easier to tell apart the city districts in the daylight. The narrow roads eventually bled into to a large circular market. It was about the size of the largest of the gardens in the imperial palace.
Astera balked at all the shop stalls crammed within the market. There had to be hundreds of stands littering the square, squeezed into every bit of free space available.
Strips of cut linen and colourful tassels were tied to the stalls for decoration. Some of them were far dirtier and ragged than others. There was no proper road and very little organization between the stalls. They had to follow the zig zagged pathways carved by the crowds around them.
Soarruk struggled to lead his warhorse through the tents and sea of pedestrians. There was no room in the market for people to give them the same wide berth as in the road. Whenever the horses approached a crowd there was a moment of panic as people attempted to move out of the way. Even if it meant simply flattening themselves against the nearest stall as the orcs passed, only a hairs breadth away. Astera tried to give them reassuring smiles, but no one dared look up at her.
