No. He had a point. There was no use wasting her time antagonizing him, not with so much at stake. She needed to focus on the next step, the next thing. On surviving. And, most importantly, she didnotcare what he did or didn’t want in a woman. Shedidn’t.
“Very well,” she gritted out, as she made herself meet the orc’s eyes. “I’m listening.Whydo you want to hire me.”
The orc blinked at her, but then quickly glanced away, and rubbed his hand at his face. “I am… in the midst of a journey southwest,” he said, his voice very measured. “To the home of my kin. I have been away from there for some years, and of late, they have asked me to return. But in my time away, I have not yet gained a mate or a son. Because” — his voice hardened — “I haveno wishfor this. But for many orcs, this lack of a woman and sons… this is a weakness. A failure.”
Geva made herself consider that, studying the orc’s frowning face, the hard furrow between his thick brows. “I have good cause,” he continued, even slower, “to show myselfsettledupon my return there. To show that in my absence, I have found only peace, and profit, and pleasure. And thus” — his narrow eyes darted back toward Geva — “I could be well-served by a… pretence. A deception.”
Geva kept staring at the orc, as her brain began churning and revolving again, her heartbeat rising in her chest. He wanted to hire her… for a pretence? A deception? As his…
“You have shown yourself quick today, and clever, and clear-sighted,” the orc continued, his eyes again distant, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to her. “You did not buckle or weep under threat, nor betray me to those men. You did not seek to save yourself, at my expense.”
Geva couldn’t hide a wince, because in retrospect, she should have at least made an attempt — but the orc was still speaking, even slower now. “Instead, you… you aided me. You hid us away. And you unearthed worthy plunder that I would not have found alone.”
His hand had absently moved to touch at his belt — or rather, at that jewel-studded, orc-forged dagger Geva had found in Mr. Fitzwald’s drawer. “And thus,” the orc added, “if you can show such mettle before humans, and before me” — his eyes snapped back to hers, suddenly sharp and watchful again — “surely you can show this same mettle before my kin, ach?”
Geva stared back at him for another stilted, dangling moment, her thoughts still uselessly swirling. He was… praising her? Complimenting her? Truly wanting to hire her, as his…
“And in there,” the orc continued, speaking faster, jabbing his claw toward the still-open wardrobe. “You did not cower or flinch from my touch, ach? You did not simper or sob like a silly fearful maiden. And” — he lurched closer, and abruptly ducked his head toward Geva’sneck, before jerking away again — “my scent even smells pleasing upon you. Strong. Natural. As if we both wished for this.”
He began pacing back and forth across the room, his black claws dragging through his long hair, while something almost feral glimmered in his black eyes. “So this is a good scheme for us both, you ken?” he demanded, with rising triumph in his voice. “You shall come with me to the home of my kin, and help flaunt my strength. This shall also keep you well hidden from any humans who seek to cast blame for today’s theft upon you. I shall also keep you safe and fed throughout this, and when it is done” — he stopped pacing, whirling around to face her again — “I shall pay you fair wages, and see you safely away from here. Across the sea, mayhap.”
Oh.Oh. Geva was still staring at him, unblinking, while all those absurd words, those absurd impossible promises, charged deep into her brain, into her soul. Safe. Fed. Fair wages. Across the sea.
And curse her, but it was that last one that clung, clamped, brazen and breathless. She could go across the sea. Back home to Ezira. Back to where she surely still had aunts and uncles, cousins and nieces and nephews. Back to where other people looked and spoke and thought like her.
This was… a good plan. A good step forward.
But wait. No.No. That meant trusting an orc, it meant trustingthisorc, who had already proven himself so thoroughly untrustworthy. Not to mention arrogant, capricious, condescending, and unpredictable. And he was indeed now staring at Geva with expectant, impatient eyes, as if he fully expected her to fall to his feet, and begin frantically anointing him with her tears of worship and gratitude.
“How much coin,” Geva made herself say, her voice not at all her own. “Passage across the sea is more than I earn in a year, so —”
She couldn’t even finish, her eyes squeezing shut, because it was laughable, ludicrous,impossible— but the orc’s hand grasped her shoulder, giving it a bracing little shake.
“I shall pay it,” he said firmly, and when she blinked her eyes open, he was jostling one of the bags at his belt — one of the bags full of the Fitzwalds’ jewels, damn him. “I have yet far more wealth than this, you ken? And the better you play-act before my kin, and the more help and plunder you grant me” — that triumph again flared through his eyes — “the more I shall pay you. Ach?”
Geva was once again struck to silence, staring at this treacherous orc, while that desperation — that hope — kept clawing stronger, closer. This was preposterous. It was outrageous. It was…
“How long,” she gulped, swallowing hard. “How many days.”
That was most certainly a flinch, curling at the orc’s mouth, tightening his hands at his sides. “One moon, mayhap,” he said. “I do not seek to stay long. This is only a —”
He broke off there and began pacing again, but Geva was still considering it, her thoughts racing in a dozen directions at once. “And I would only bepretendingto be your mate,” she managed. “I wouldn’t actually need to…”
She couldn’t help a chagrined glance down toward the orc’s trousers, to where there was still a distinctive — though unmistakably softened — bulge. “Ach, no,” the orc replied, his voice flat. “There shall be no true mating between us. Only play-acting, and only for this one moon. I shall havenosurprise son from this, you ken? And should this somehow come about” — he jabbed a sharp finger toward Geva, his eyes dangerously narrowing — “we aredone, woman. And I shall not pay youone single coin. Ach?”
Geva blinked, and then felt herself scoffing, glaring straight back toward him. “I assure you, orc, you have no needwhatsoeverfor concern,” she snapped. “Even if I were fool enough to risk my life reproducing with an orc, you would most certainly be the very last one in therealmI would choose!”
The orc’s lip instantly curled, his eyes glancing dismissively up and down Geva’s ridiculously bundled body. “Neither should Ieverchoose to mate you, woman,” he shot back. “So we are well in accord upon this. But…”
But. But? Geva glared at the orc, her suspicion surging against an inexplicable misery, her heartbeat pummelling at her ears — until the orc betrayed a brief, telltale wince, twisting on his mouth.
“But,” he continued, far more hesitant than before. “For my kin to believe we are mated, you shall need to… scent of me.”
To scent of him. Geva’s head tilted, her eyes searching his face, the sudden palpable tension all through his big body. “And what does that mean?” she asked, her voice strained. “You’ll need to touch me? Or lick me again?”
The orc winced again, and shook his head. “No, woman,” he replied, with the air of one being suddenly marched to his doom. “You shall need to be bared, and bathed all over in my good fresh seed.”
7
