“Get the fuck up,” I growl, walking over and drawing my foot back to kick her. But I hesitate. More weakness. More mercy. Instead of slamming a boot into her thin frame, I nudge her with the edge of my foot. “Wake up, little human girl. It’s morning.”
She doesn’t leap up like an orc awakened by a king. She yawns and stretches her arms as she sits up, the fur sliding down her body, revealing her breasts. Once her pretty brown eyes open, they widen, and she yanks the fur back over them.
“Wear the robe,” I say, gesturing to the pile in the corner. “I’ll have Lady Frax’mo send you something that fits later today.”
I walk to the door of my bedchamber, wait for it to open, and exit the room. As tempted as I am to put the leash on and drag her, she can catch up. I need a cup of blackroot coffee this morning more than ever. I might even drink it straight from the damn pot.
I get to the kitchen, grab the bag that has already been prepared, and dump the contents into a cup. It just looks like dirt and sludge, but after ten seconds in the reviver, it’s a steaming hot cup of blackroot brew.
Nothing drags an orc into the morning like blackroot. During The Great War, some orcs would eat the roots straight out of the ground. We put a stop to it once we realized they were turning into junkies like the humans who inject themselves with drugs they don’t need.
Clover finally makes it to the kitchen. She still looks a little scared, but there’s something different in her eyes. Curiosity, maybe? Gratitude because I spanked her instead of whipped her. Or maybe she’s still thinking about what I did after I realized she was too fucking wet to sleep.
“Is that coffee?” she asks demurely, her eyes still half-lidded.
“It is,” I growl, noticing some redness around her neck from the collar. I shouldn’t care, but that wasn’t really part of her punishment. “Do you want some?”
“I’ve only had it a few times,” she says. “But I could probably use some.”
“Help yourself,” I say, sliding a cup down the counter. “It’s the black sludge in the fridge.”
She walks over, checks the fridges until she finds the right one, and retrieves a bag of blackroot coffee. She looks a little apprehensive when she sees the black sludge but drains the bag into her cup anyway.
“Ten seconds in… this thing?” she asks, pointing at the Reviver.
“Yes,” I confirm.
I watch as she puts it in and fumbles with the controls. I get annoyed enough to consider helping, but she figures it out before I have to. She’s smart for a human. Most throw their hands up in dismay at the sight of anything written in orcish. She’s at least useful enough to try and solve the problem herself. First time I’ve considered a human useful for anything except breeding orc babies.
“You probably don’t know this, but almost everything you’ve ever eaten has come from a Reviver,” I growl, watching her carefully remove the steaming hot cup of coffee.
“What do you mean?” she asks, lifting the cup of coffee to her lips. She sniffles and winces before taking a sip. A second later, she spits it out. Right across my fucking chest. I growl disapprovingly as it burns the skin not protected by my armor.
“Oh no! I’m sorry!” she cries out, obviously appalled by what she’s done.
I look down at my chest, then at her terrified face. Her hand is shaking. She’s about to drop the cup of coffee, so I grab it before she does.
“You should probably add some sweetened milk to yours,” I say dryly, gesturing to one of the fridges. “If that isn’t enough, justdump some fucking sugar in there until you can keep it in your mouth long enough to swallow.”
“I’m really so sorry, King Lix’tuk! It’s so bitter! I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…” she whimpers, tears filling her eyes.
“If I thought you did it intentionally, you’d already be halfway to the dungeon,” I snarl, grabbing a towel to wipe the coffee off my armor. “Stand over the sink until you figure out how to drink your blackroot coffee. Or dump it out. I don’t give a fuck.”
She gets sweetened milk from the fridge. Figures out where the sugar is on her own. I watch as she carefully turns the black brew into a milky brown sweetened drink. Just like they serve in the coffee shops in our cities. Finally, she’s able to drink it instead of spitting it out.
“Wow, that’s really strong,” she says. “I’ve only had a couple sips and I already feel it.”
I shake my head, finding a hint of humor in it. If blackroot coffee is already giving her a buzz, I better make sure she never tries grog. That’ll probably set her stomach on fire.
“Then you probably shouldn’t finish a full cup, especially one meant for an orc,” I growl. “I don’t want you bouncing off the fucking walls all day. I’ll have to put a rope through that ring on your neck and tie you down.”
“I won’t drink much,” she says, taking another sip before putting her coffee cup down. “What were you about to tell me about the Reviver? Before I…” She looks at the stains on my armor and her cheeks redden.
“I’m sure you know about The Salting?” I ask. “Our way of ending the war after we finally closed the rift the humans opened to the underworld?”
“Yeah,” she says, looking down.
“It wasn’t meant to ruin your country forever. We had ways to fix it. Enough food to ensure the humans wouldn’t starve before the soil was replenished,” I say. “Your president at the time didn’t want it fixed. He said starving people are moredesperateand easier to control.”
