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“We do none of the things we do because we want to,” I continue. “We do them so that we might live to draw breath another day. I have come to love the orc whose protection I bartered for with my body. When I was younger, I dreamed of marrying a prince. Instead, I am mated to a giant and a monster, yet he is now the prince of my heart. A man might feel honor bound to protect a woman who is not his for many reasons, but a man protectshiswoman with his heart and his soul, and that is a very different thing.”
* * *
Doug
The humans are plotting. I have watched their kind for long enough, and I know all the signs. Usually, I would take the ringleaders aside and give them a thumping to let them know I’m on to them.
This time, I let it play out.
I ask myself why.
My answer is called Jasmine, and I accept that she is changing me.
The orcs think they control the alpha, Jacob, by threatening his mate, Winter.
They do not control him. He is a former slave of Bleakness who was freed, and besides all that this means, his skills are beyond exceptional.
My determination is realized when he finds the means to stand near me as the captives eat their midday meal. The Blighten would not usually care about feeding the expendable bondservants they will soon use in battle, but it is a means to an end for when they come and sit with their women, they have the opportunity to see their loved ones and remember the consequences of what they fight for.
“I hear you are a nephew of the warlord,” Jacob says, casually.
I grunt.
“And that you are mated to a pretty bondservant.”
I grunt again.
“I assume you don’t like seeing that iron collar around her throat.”
My nostrils flare, and I glare at the cocky bastard.
He raises a placating hand.
The warlord promised Jasmine freedom, but there are many issues with that future and much that can go wrong before we reach that point, if we ever do.
“I want to talk to you plainly, but I understand that in doing so, I’m taking a risk.”
When I don’t even offer a grunt, he side-eyes me.
Turning away, he sighs heavily. “I am highly trained—a terrible weapon capable of killing many. One day soon, I will be forced to take up arms and fight a race who were once my neighbor. I will do it because there is a binding between my fairy mistress and me, and it compels me to protect her, whatever the cost. Tulwin said he would give her over to his soldiers for pleasure if I do not fight for him, telling me how she is an omega and how she would likely endure their harsh treatment for many years to come.”
My belly clenches, and a cold sensation settles in my chest.
“I don’t know why I trust you,” he admits. “But I see the way you watch me and know you suspect something is amiss. I’m hoping you are going to give me something here, so I don’t need to take you fucking out and upset that pretty bondservant my fairy mistress already likes.”
I snort out a laugh. The bastard isveryfucking cocky.
His lips tug up as he continues to stare out at the clearing where the shifters and other bondservants take food and water. “I know, I might be coming across as cocky. I prefer to think of it as confident. Also, you have not reached for that sturdy-looking club at your hip yet, so I’m thinking we are in the tentative stage of an agreement.”
We are not in fucking agreement; I am merely humoring him.
“Do you make words in your mind?”
I scowl at him.What sort of fucking question is that?
“No need to get all grouchy. It is a pertinent fucking question. Not everyone thinks words. Some people speak everything out loud. I had a warrior friend once who never shut the fuck up. I told him to think about shit before he opened his mouth, and he was very fucking confused, which is when I learned that not everyone thinks words inside their head.”
I think words. I think lots of words. It is theonlyplace my words exist, except for my mate… I arrive at the abrupt conclusion that Bron does not think in words, for he also never shuts up.
