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“What?”I choke. “As in, I need to go take anivy?”
He nods. “Yes. But, we do not take ivys, we leave them.”
I burst out, my belly jiggling as I crack up. “Yeah, okay, well, it sort of means the same thing.”
He makes ahrmpf’ingsound, then turns and stomps away, bringing back a loaf of bread, some fresh carrots, two furred animal hides and a large mug of water.
“Eat and drink. I will not be long. I will stoke the fire before I leave. Then when I return, I will take you from here and we will mate.”
He unlaces the front of his pants, his erection pops free and by God I was right.
It’sglowing.
ChapterSix
Oran
“Isaw you come into the camp. We need to talk about—”
I growl as I turn at the sound of my brother’s voice. Mol is the leader of our clan, but he’s also my eldest brother and a pain in my damned ass sometimes. He and the others believe in rolling over, in accepting the scraps the humans throw to us, whereas I…
Well, I used to believe we should be fighting the humans on our own terms, the same way we fought the Moban. Now, I’m so turned around I’m not so certain.
“What do you want?” I grunt.
“What are you doing with those?”
I glance down at my hands, and almost drop the things I was gathering from my sister’s hut. Clean clothes. For Ivy. Female orc clothes, too big for her but all I know how to find. “Nothing, I—”
“Andthose,” he growls, looking at the bed.
The bed where I dumped the flowers I picked on the way here. For her. Fuck.
“What do you want?” I repeat, not liking the new sensation of heat across my face. Or the stutter in my words. I am Oran. Not some weak human male.
“What Iwantis to find out what my brother is doing stealing our sister’s clothes… Actually, no I don’t. I don’t care. Iknow, Oran.”
“Know what?”
“What you’ve been doing.”
I wonder if he sees the way I recoil at his words, slamming my sister Athaan’s drawer so hard I nearly trap my fingers in it. He knows? About Ivy? About what we… How would he know?
“You got close to Cardan on Iriaza,” he says, nodding. “I get it. You save his life, he takes advantage. Don’t trust him.”
“You know nothing about it.” I glare, laying out the clothes I’ve chosen along with the flowers.
“I know you’ve been fighting for him. In the cage. You kill for that shitstain and his psycho son.”
“I kill for me. I am Oran.”
“Are you sure? I don’t recognize you half the time anymore.”
I growl. “I need to go. Get out of my way.”
He puts his arm out, blocking the doorway. “No. Talk to me. Raven says talking is good. A kind of therapy.”
I consider ripping his arm from its socket, then decide better of it. “What is therapy?”
