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“Latsil will explain it to Joanna. I’ve never seen a male so broken.”
“He’s been through a lot.”
“Aye, and this is his baby girl. The only thing that keeps him in the village instead of being here are those brats he’s got, plus Joanna’s with child again. And I know he’s grateful for you.” Kreele hugs me to him, then releases me with a heavy pat on the shoulder. “Be safe, Bakog. You’re still in Blackheart territory, but we let them know we’ve found her and you’re moving through slowly. We’ll expect you back by this weekend.”
Three days of bliss with my mate and then it’s time to return to reality. Time to introduce her to her people.
Chapter Eleven
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JOGUG:
THE ENTIRE VILLAGE is quiet when we ride in. None of the faces look familiar, but stare when they see me in front of Bakog on Tobias.
Mayhap that’s unusual? I’ve never ridden behind him, though. Of course, I was a prisoner the first time I rode his horse, but still.
When Tobias reaches a stop, Kreele, the male from the night I captured Bakog, steps forward to help me down. Once Bakog dismounts, Kreele takes Tobias away. The rest of the clan people are hushed as they take in my clothing. My hair. My tattoos.
So quiet I’d prefer to hear the chirping of crickets.
There are the same orcs who I’d bargained with in the woods the night I captured Bakog among the sea of faces. They don’t stand together—a united front—like they did that night, but are interspersed through the crowd. They’re protecting the clan, then. Not sure about me. Probably a wise decision.
“Meet Jogug,” Bakog says. “I trust the males who were with her have been brought in?”
His father steps forward. “Two of them are on the way. A messenger from the Southpeaks said they captured two that were from the Blackheart clan. We’ve dispatched some males to retrieve them. We don’t know where the other four are.”
“Three,” Bakog says. “It seems Jogug killed one when she first woke.”
“The two who dress Southpeak are Stug and Shodun,” I say softly, moving closer to Bakog. “I killed Wruk, so that leaves Doparth, Gnark, and Grilud.”
There’s a tussle outside of the crowd. “Shalia! Let me go!”
A true orcen princess—complete with a gown—breaks away from Tok, the large male who’d come with the royal guard. She’s gorgeous, and green, wearing a silken peach dress cut low, with full breasts that bounce. He makes one last grab for her, but misses. She’s quick, and she breaks through the circle of people around us, throwing herself against me.
She squeezes me tight, weeping. She smells so good, like some sort of flower. Too good for the likes of me, and I’m not sure what to think. I can’t imagine flitting about the village like a princess. Finally, she pulls away and cups my face in her hands. “What have they done to you?” she asks, looking at the tattoos on my forehead.
