Page 54 of Protective Pucking Orc

“Anthony is a powerful man, the center of a network of drug suppliers and sellers and criminals I don’t even understand. My stepfather wanted a connection to him, and made a deal. Anthony gave him what he wanted, and in return, he got to…” I swallowed and burrowed closer. “Marry me.”

I felt Dakvaar stiffen. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

I pretended not to hear his whispered “Fuck,” but straightened away from his chest just enough to rest my cheek against his shoulder and continue in hushed tones.

“Anthony is very handsome and charming, or at least I thought so then. He was older and powerful and so sure of himself—the kind of guy who ordered me dinner when we went out, and I thought it was romantic.”

Now I saw it was domineering and dismissive.

“I was so young that when he told me I was stupid and my opinions were wrong, I believed him. He held onto my money and checked my phone often and made me quit my waitressing job. I didn’t realize he was isolating me so I relied on him.”

Dakvaar’s arm tightened around me just briefly, and I realized he was breathing faster. Best to get it all said.

“He liked showing me off—liked choosing skimpy dresses for me, said it was so all his men could see what he owned. More than once, he⁠—”

My voice broke off in another sob, an old pain surfacing before I choked it down and shook my head, unwilling to share all my humiliations yet. “Let’s just say, he didn’t mind having a young, pliant wife.”

“Gods below, Sofia,” Dakvaar whispered harshly. “I should have killed him.”

Someone should have, yes. But I shook my head again. “He’s too powerful.”

“I’m a fucking orc, love. I’m surrounded by males who hit other males for a living. The first orc hockey team played humans, until that first crushed rib cage, and the league was invented so we only play each other. Anthony couldn’t scare us.”

I realized I was smirking slightly at the image, and straightened, my heart lighter. “You protected us.”

“And I always will.”

Always. It was a long time.

But there was something about Dakvaar which made me want to believe him.

I blew out a breath, deciding to get it said.

“Anthony was old-fashioned, and after about eight years of marriage, decided he wanted a son. He stopped my birth control without telling me, and I got pregnant right away. He was ecstatic…until Rosa was born. He told me he didn’t have a use for a daughter.”

I remembered being happy to hear that, thinking maybe he’d leave both of us alone. I’d been wrong.

“He began to talk about her like she was an asset, something he could use to further his power. There’s a guy he owes…Degas got him out of a nasty situation a few years into our marriage, and the two of them would talk about Rosa like she was…” I shuddered, then finished in a whisper. “I don’t know, a bag of money or something.”

“Thank the gods you got away from them both.”

Eventually. “He started to try for a son right away, but by that point I had something to fight for, something more important than myself.”

“Rosa.”

I heard the anguish in his tone, but kept speaking.

“I found a way to reach a doctor, who gave me an IUD without Anthony knowing. She also connected me with a burner phone and a lawyer and a social worker. It took until Rosa was two years old, and it was horrible, but…” I took a shaky breath, staring down at my daughter’s legs, where they crossed into my lap. “We got away. I divorced him, got custody…”

“And you ran.”

For a while, the only sound was our breathing—mine still watery, Rosa’s soft and even, Dakvaar’s too harsh.

But finally he shifted, pulling me close enough to press another kiss on my temple. “I will praise the gods each evening for getting you the help and the strength you needed to do that, dkaar.”

My lips twitched, thinking of my mother’s strict Catholic upbringing. But her god hadn’t helped me, so maybe the orcish gods would.