Her Orc Warrior Read online

  Her Orc Warrior

  Tessa Drake

  Her Orc Warrior

  Copyright © 2016 by Tessa Drake

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All characters are over 18.

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Epilogue

  A Note From Tessa

  Also by Tessa Drake

  One

  Lucille crept through the dark, dingy corridors of the castle, the candle clutched in her hand flickering in the cold drafts commonplace in such an ancient building. Her heart skipped, sending a surge of nervous adrenaline through her small frame as she thought of her destination, and what her father would do if he knew. If he survived the apoplexy the revelation would no doubt bring, of course.

  Spying on primitive, barbaric captives was not something a crown princess should do. She knew that. But there was something about this one, something... darkly dangerous that had her breath catching in her throat and her pulse jumping whenever she got a look at his heavily muscled body. He was alluring in a bestial, brutish way.

  They’d brought him in clamped in chains that forced him to walk with an awkward, shuffling gait. But even that had done nothing to diminish the natural dominance and barely restrained violence that almost oozed out of him. She’d watched from a window high in the castle as they marched him across the courtyard and beyond her line of sight down into the dungeons. She’d slept fitfully that first night, waking up flushed and damp, one hand between her legs. It hadn’t gotten any better since. She fantasized about her father’s prisoner every night, touching herself even though she knew it was shameful. It had become almost a fixation. He was so different to the soft human men of the court. Even the younger, fitter soldiers didn’t hold her attention as much as this orc.

  Her delicately embroidered slippers made no noise on the stone steps as she made her way deeper into the castle’s bowels. She kept one hand in front of the candle flame, half in fear of it being seen through the randomly dotted peepholes, and half in fear of it guttering out and leaving her alone in the dark despite it being enclosed in a lantern. But the gentle warmth on her palm remained reassuringly steady as the glass protected the flame from the worst of the unpredictable air currents.

  The path to the dungeons from her suite of rooms was something she’d discovered completely by accident. Only a few weeks ago while sitting at her dresser she’d dropped her ring. She’d found the place it had rolled to and picked it up, but paused as she noticed a shallow groove in the stone. It was faint enough that it wasn’t visible when standing, but crouched down she could just about see it. She’d traced her fingertips over the lines curiously, following the groove until it disappeared under the large rug that covered most of the floor. Excited then by the possibility of something more thrilling than feasts and balls in her safe life, she’d pulled back the rug with a great heave and crouched down again, exploring the lines with more intensity. She could see then that the lines formed a semi-circle curving out from the wall. Almost like... marks from a door. A smile had curved her lips as she’d considered the implications of what she was seeing.

  She hadn’t explored straight away - her maids were always around during the day and someone would undoubtedly notice if the crown princess went inexplicably missing from her rooms. She’d waited until that night before she gathered up a couple of candles along with her courage and opened the door. The disused passage had led her between the walls of the castle, deep down into the underground rooms. She hadn’t explored all the passageways yet, but most of them led to cramped spy-hole spaces. A couple led to old, empty hidden rooms, and then she’d discovered one that led straight to the dungeons.

  The dungeons were where Lucille was headed now. She visited every night, but couldn’t always come out of hiding and approach his cell. When she did her dreams were more vivid, more wild, and awoke a hunger in her that her own shameful touch couldn’t satisfy. She reached the branch that turned off into the dungeons and set her candle on the floor. The short corridor was known well enough to her now that she didn’t need it, nor did she want it to betray her presence to those within should a guard be present.

  The stone swung open at her touch, but she checked its movement, keeping it almost closed while she scrutinized the room for guards through the tiny crack. It was always the smell that hit her first. A combination of unwashed bodies, dirty straw and other unsavory odors. But her nose got used to it far more quickly now than it had those few weeks ago. The hidden door opened out in the wall at the back of the main dungeon cell block. Fortunately for her, it had been decided that the orc was to be held in a cell block on his own, and the other prisoners had been temporarily moved while his fate was decided. It also seemed that the guards were loath to stay in the same room as the silent, glaring beast, and had taken to guarding the door from the outside as often as they could get away with it. This meant that most nights she had the freedom to observe the incarcerated orc at her leisure.

  Satisfied that there were no guards inside, she slipped out from the doorway and tiptoed across the flagstones. Each one of her visits was a nerve-wracking, pulse-pounding trip. Every slight noise from outside the door had her starting like a frightened rabbit and ready to bolt to the hidden passageway. But it was the heady combination of fear, disobedience and lust that fed her addiction. Surely she was allowed some excitement in her life, she thought, before she was married off to someone in a loveless political match.

  The orc had ignored her at first, staying well within the shadowed cell. She doubted he even knew who she was. And he was hardly about to tell the guards that he had a regular visitor. She was pretty sure he couldn't speak their language anyway, or not much of it. But during these last few visits he'd stared back at her from the shadows. The occasional clink betraying his shifting limbs. She’d heard rumours through the castle that he was a great warrior amongst his own kind, and had been captured more by sheer luck than anything else. From what glimpses the limited light allowed her she didn't doubt those rumours. Thick, corded muscles bulged under dark green skin. Each forearm was thicker than one of her thighs. His head almost touched the top of the cell, so tall was he. His face resembled a human man's, but cut more primitively. A pronounced brow topped deep-set yellow eyes, and a heavy jawline framed a wide mouth. Twin tusks the colour of aged ivory jutted upwards from behind his lower lip, decorated with metal bands. He was still dressed in the leather and hide garments he had originally been captured in. Presumably the castle outfitters didn't have any plain clothes available in his size.

  She snuck closer to his cell, her senses strained for any indication of the guards moving outside. As she got closer she saw that the orc was almost touching the bars of his cell. Her feet faltered. He’d never come forward that far before, and she found herself unnerved by it, despite the thick iron rods between them.

  Two

  Grotur lurked in the shadows of his cell. Everything was in place for his escape. The humans didn’t even realize they had sympathizers in their midst. He smiled, the shadows making it seem as though his eyes burned in his sockets. All he had to do was wait for his little bird, then he would be out and free before any of the humans – sympathizers included – knew what had transpired here in this cell.

  She arrived about the same time as she always did, the slight change in air currents only detectable t
o his keener senses giving him warning. He hunkered back down in the cell, allowing the dim lighting to hide most of his frame. She came forward as tentatively as ever, dressed in what he had figured out was some kind of sleeping gown, not a day dress as he’d originally thought. Why humans wasted good cloth on bed clothes he had no idea, but the fact that she visited him every time in such intimate attire served only to fuel his intentions.

  It had been easy. The first time the little human had visited he pretended to ignore her and sleep, watching from behind almost-closed eyelids. The second and third time he had moved his legs, just enough for her to hear the clank of the accursed shackles. The times after that he had gradually accustomed her to his movements, slowly edging out into the light. It was not unlike stalking prey. His lips curled into a cruel smile. He hadn’t missed the flush that crept up her neck every time she looked at him, or the increased breathing rate that pushed her full breasts up against the neckline of her robe. Or the scent of her arousal. From the cut and decoration of her clothes and that she presumably resided in the castle he guessed that she had to be the daughter of someone important. He would have her in this very cell the night of his escape. Yes, that would be fitting. He kept his face impassive though the mere thought stirred his blood. He would show her exactly what it was she thought she wanted and leave behind a message for this human king who dared to imprison Grotur Blacktusk.

  He watched her openly now as she crept closer to the bars, her eyes darting to the main door often enough to betray her skittishness. That she was more afraid of being discovered than of him was amusing. He would teach her her mistake. But not tonight. He curled thick fingers around the cool metal of a vertical bar and the human paused, unsure. He waited, patient, until she took another couple of steps forward. She stopped well outside of arm’s reach and clutched her hands to her chest, fingers fiddling with the embroidered edge of her over robe. She stood watching for a few minutes and he watched her back, taking in the richness of the clothes she wore. He kept his muscles loose and relaxed, and his posture as unthreatening as possible, allowing her to become accustomed to being this close. His escape would be sweetened no end if he could catch this little bird before he left, especially if she was who he was beginning to suspect she was.

  The torchlight flickered over her long hair, golden locks tumbling over her shoulders, looking almost bronze down here in the dungeons. Her blue eyes gazed at him, an instinctual fear flickering in their depths, but not enough that she didn’t approach like last time. He stayed where he was until she was closer, then he moved with careful deliberateness, bringing himself slowly to the bars. She trembled, but stayed put, watching him with a kind of horrified fascination. He reached the bars and looked down at the human. It was time to action his plan. He slipped a large hand through the bars, turning it palm up and holding it out. Her eyes widened and she almost turned to flee - he saw her twitch. But she didn’t. Slowly, as if in a dream, she stepped closer, her eyes fixed on his hand as if expecting it to suddenly rear up and bite her. He was patient and waited as she crept agonizingly closer. Eventually she came close enough to touch his hand if she reached out, and his blood pumped faster. So close. He willed the little human to do it - to take his hand and seal her fate.

  She looked up at his face, and he kept his expression neutral, allowing a mote of curiosity to spark in his eyes. A lure. Slowly, her hand rose and she stretched out her arm, inching closer to his hand. He held his breath as her fingertips brushed his tentatively before they slid down to his palm. He ever so gently curled his fingers around her wrist. She gasped at the movement, but he kept his grip loose, giving her the illusion of being able to break free if she wanted.

  They stayed like that for a few moments, and then she took another step closer to the bars. Grotur fought to keep his fingers from twitching around her wrist with anticipation. She was almost close enough. He stayed still, the bars of the cell pressing into the muscles of his arm wedged between them. It was getting uncomfortable; he needed to act soon. He let his thumb stroke the inside of her wrist and her mouth opened in surprise, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she dropped her gaze, taking an unconscious step forward. He seized his chance, clamping his fingers down on her wrist and yanking, angling his tug so she had her back pressed up against the bars. His other hand clamped over her mouth, smothering the scream that bubbled forth. He kept her pressed to the bars with one hand on her face while he pushed open the cell door with the other.

  He lowered his head until it was just behind hers, speaking their cursed tongue for the first time since he’d been captured, "Scream and you’re dead."

  She stilled beneath his hold, no doubt surprised by the unexpected vocalization.

  "Understand?" He tightened his grip in warning and she forced out a nod beneath the pressure of his hand.

  Grotur swung himself round through the open cell doorway, shackling her wrist within his grip before releasing her mouth. She sucked in a breath but didn’t scream. Instead, she threw back her head to look him square in the eye. The attitude surprised him. For someone who had been creeping about so nervously she had spine. Then he understood. She was indeed the princess of these people as he had suspected. She was used to being obeyed. The creeping and nervousness had sprung merely from the fact that she was visiting her father’s captive, and would be in unimaginable trouble of she was caught. There was also the fact that she was obviously attracted to him. Everything about what she had been doing was taboo, and she would be forever shamed if she were caught. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

  “If you scream or call for help, I’ll make sure those who come running have no doubt about what I’ve been doing to you every night.”

  Her expression faltered and her eyes flicked to the main dungeon door.

  “I know who you are, princess,” he made the title mocking, “And if you don’t cooperate, I’ll do exactly that.” He grinned at her, allowing his eyes to rove over her body, “But if you cooperate, I’ll let you escape back through your little tunnel with no one but us the wiser.”

  He wondered briefly when his plan had changed from leaving her violated, shamed and locked in his cell to leaving it a secret. He shrugged mentally. It didn’t really matter either way. At least doing it this way let him have his revenge without it coming back on his people. It was a sobering thought, and one he hadn’t before considered in his blind rage at being a prisoner. Besides, those tunnels could come in handy one day. If he openly compromised the princess, then he compromised the tunnels, too. He studied her face, “What’ll it be, princess?”

  Three

  The question was like a slap to the face, bringing Lucille out of the haze her shock-addled mind had pulled around her. It wasn’t much of a choice, really. And there was only one option she could logically take. The other choice... she shuddered in the orc’s grip. Her life would not be worth living if she were found like that. She would be worthless, tainted. Cast out. But if nobody knew, there was a chance she could still have a normal life. Marry whatever man her father chose and be forever glad she had avoided disaster by the skin of her teeth. Virginity could be faked. She’d heard her maids giggle about it once - something about a pig’s bladder filled with a little blood. Her mind raced. Yes, she could do this. It was the only way.

  She raised her eyes to his, almost physically flinching at the intensity of his face. He was waiting, but the grip on her wrist tightened, warning her he didn’t have endless patience.

  “I’ll cooperate.” Her voice was small, but they were so close it didn’t matter. He heard. His mouth curved into a dark grin and he pulled her away from the bars, her feet forced onto tiptoe as he dragged her after him deeper into the cell. She gasped at the power in his grip. He threw her towards the cot and she staggered, almost tripping on the hem of her nightdress. She drew herself upright, watching as the orc listened in the direction of the main door, his gaze momentarily distracted from her.

  Despite the fact that he had given her n
o choice, she wondered for a moment if this was what she’d wanted all along. Wasn’t he the focus of her fantasies every night? His huge muscles and hard body fuelling her hot dreams? She doubted that any of her foremothers had had an opportunity such as this before they were married. Maybe one or two had tarried with dandy lovers in secret, but none had had a male as wild as this orc. The thought was tantalizing and thrilling. Maybe he was using her, but she could use him just as much. She felt her heart pound faster, excitement snaking through her body.

  He turned back to her, eyes traveling up and down her body, taking in her flushed countenance, nostrils flaring slightly. He snorted a laugh, making her blink in surprise, “After all this, you still want it, don’t you?”

  Taken aback by his directness, she realized that her attraction must be obvious to him. So what if she did? Lucille lifted her chin, “I do.”

  He stepped so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin, and she fought off her instinct to take a step back, instead using the feel of him to steady herself. He was right there, in front of her. Her fantasy brought to life.

  She jumped when his hands came up to cup her buttocks, squeezing with rough fingers.

  “What is it exactly that you think you want, princess?” His voice had become deeper, rougher. She realized belatedly that he’d been deprived, alone down here in his dark cell.

  She gasped as he pressed her against himself, feeling hard muscles against her skin. And something else, hot and long, that pushed up between her breasts. Her breath caught, and she struggled to keep a grip on her fear. He was huge. She hadn’t considered the size difference until now. She glanced up at his face and saw the lust there. He wanted her. The thought thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. But she was a princess, she reminded herself sternly, and princesses of this realm were made of sterner stuff than others. She could take him.