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Prologue
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Quick Note: This is the fourth story in my orc collection. Newsletter subscribers will have access to a slice of life story and a prequel to the series.
With that, enjoy!
PRONUNCIATION GUIDE:
Bakog —(Back-KOG)
Shalia—(Shall-LIE-yuh)
Hisa—(HEE-sa)
Jogug—(Shuh-GUG)
Silann—(SIGH-len)
Latjo—(Lach-O)
Negan—(NEE-gun)
SHALIA, VISITING NIECE of Rosemary in the town of Creede:
I LOVE RIDING behind Bakog. The son of Brun, our orc prince. Grandson of Brachard, the great orc king. Greatest in all the land, he’s told me so.
I’m a foolish, foolish girl, but it’s the only time I’m allowed to pretend Bakog’s mine. To touch the stubborn male, and to wrap my arms around him, hold him tight.
Normally when a woman belongs to a man, she rides in front of him on the horse. My mother rides in front of my father. Bakog’s mother rides in front of his. Not us. No, Bakog has always put me behind him, as if making sure I know my place.
I would think it’s because I’m a half-blood, like the taunts from those in human towns had reached my ears when I was young. But Bakog is half-blooded too. As is my best friend, his sister, Hisa. The only difference is: I look it. I took after my father, Latsil, with rare, light green hair. And while a full-blooded orc with green skin can carry it off, a half-blood? No. It doesn’t work. It clearly marks me as other.
I may have remembered those taunts as I grew up, but it was always worth it to visit the trading village of Creede. There I stay with Aunt Rosemary, my human mother’s dear friend. And I do all the things human women do—I sew, I work in her store, I cook human food and take home the recipes to try out in the kitchens of Solaya. Because the humans, at least the ones in Creede, are more accepting of half-bloods. They think I’m one of them, until they get close and see that my light skin is tinted green. That the darker strands in my hair are also orc-green, just tempered with human-blond.
And I get to ride to and from with my arms wrapped around Bakog’s trim waist. The only time he lets me cling to his rugged body.
He’ll drop me off at Aunt Rosemary’s house. I’ll make dinner for her and Uncle Paul, and first thing in the morning, I’ll head off with her to the marketplace. Used to be, Hisa would come. But she’s been lifting her skirts for Tok. He grew into a beast of a male, as large as his father, and was Bakog’s best friend growing up, despite the age difference. There are six years between them... and eleven between him and Hisa.
A fact that Bakog always frowned upon.
But lately, Hisa’s been wearing Tok down. And Bakog has been too busy chasing after me to track those two. Hisa and I were both surprised when Bakog encouraged her to stay in Solaya this summer instead of making her visit to Creede. He’s overly protective and is wearing himself down tracking both of us, even though we’re as safe as every other woman in the village. I’m not even sure why he includes me in his umbrella of protection, unless it’s because I’m the first infant he’d been around until Hisa was born a few months later.
I think he’s had a talking to by Brachard, the orc king affectionately known as grandfather by most of my generation. Brachard has a way of making stubborn males see reason.
And Bakog realizes that he can step back and allow Tok to see that Hisa comes to no harm, while he focuses his own protection on me.
Hisa begged me not to make a big deal of it because she certainly wanted it that way. And I do too, though I’d never tell her of my crush on her brother. Of the way my heart skips a beat when he smiles at me. Of the way I melt inside when he’s sweaty and shirtless from training, which he does hard and often. Does Hisa notice? Nay, she’s too far taken with Tok.
Today though... today I’m biting the bullet. One thing Grandfather taught us girls was to take life by the balls. A phrase our human mothers frowned at. I’m not chasing Bakog any more... I’m letting the stubborn male know I’m his.
That when he returns for me to take me back home, I’ll ride in front of him on Tobias, his faithful steed.
Unknowingly, my arms tighten and I snuggle my cheek onto his broad, muscled back.
“Shally,” he warns.
I want to giggle, because what would he do if I dropped my hands down to his crotch? Fondled him the way I’m sure Hisa touches his friend? He’d be so shocked he’d probably toss us both from Tobias.
