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“Fuck, Drazak,” my troll moans, pumping harder. “You feel so fucking perfect.” Then he strikes me right in my favorite spot, and immediately I’m seizing up and jerking in my own hand, my seed shooting out across the table. Han’zir gasps and then shoves himself as far into me as he can, and there’s a burst of color behind my eyes as his cock grows and unleashes inside me. Fuck, how does he always feel so good?
That’s the moment I hear the chickens squawking.
“Damn it!” I yank us apart, and Han’zir’s juices leak out of me. I pull my pants back on, lace them up, and run out the door while he calls my name.
I’m going to catch them, whoever is stealing my eggs, and hang them out to dry.
Chapter 2
Esme
When I wake up abruptly, my heart beating fast and my forehead beaded with sweat, I’m almost certain my wound is getting infected. It’s hot and red, and I see stars whenever I brush it against something. I need to wash it and try to clean out the dirt, but when I climb down from my spot up in the hay, the chickens scatter and yell at me.
“Sorry, sorry,” I hiss at them. “Keep it down.” The last thing I need is to attract attention to myself after taking all those eggs this morning and sucking them down raw.
I can’t stay here, I know that. But where else can I go? I’m deep in enemy land with no idea where I am. If I wandered farther, I might come across trollkin soldiers, and then I’d definitely be dead.
There’s nowhere in this world for me, not anywhere. I can’t even go back home because everyone would know I was a deserter.
I step outside the barn and look around. A trollkin came in earlier today, and I hid carefully behind a big bale of hay up in the loft while he did his chores. He was the green kind, an orc, with a bare chest, a sturdy belly and tree-trunk-thick legs. His tusks looked deadly.
Eventually I’ll figure out what to do if I can just survive for now, but I can’t be seen by that guy. Perhaps if I’m quiet and clever, I’ll find something else to eat before retreating back to my hiding place.
That’s when I hear a roar, and the angry stamping of boots.
Shit. He’s coming back.
I clamber up the ladder to the hay loft, and slink into the back without making the wood creak. I plant myself behind a hay bale and hold my breath as the orc charges inside the barn, growling some words in Trollkin I can’t understand as he hangs up his lamp. He opens a door, checks inside, then slams it in irritation. He scatters the chickens as he searches the nests, then stops.
The ladder. The rungs squeak as he steps on the first one, then the second. I squeeze myself even tighter into the back, hoping he won’t see me past the big bale I’m crouched behind.
Another rung and another, and he’s standing right at my height. I can see his face from here, and it’s...
Not what I expected at all. Far more familiar than illustrations of trollkin had led me to believe, with their monstrous, disgusting faces and huge, deadly tusks. He has a broad nose and thick brows, which are drawn together in annoyance as he searches the loft. Firm lips wrap around his rather short tusks, but they’re pulled down in a frown. His dark hair is loose and chopped irregularly, and he pushes some away from his face as he peers into the back, scouring the hay for his intruder.
But his big yellow eyes graze right past me, and he huffs when he doesn’t see anything inside. He retreats down the ladder, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding for the last minute.
At the sound, he shoots up, grabbing the big hay bale in front of me. “Ag yaz argak!” He pulls it to one side—revealing me crouched in the very back, trying as hard as I can to make myself small.
“Please,” I say, crawling away from his reaching arm. “Please don’t hurt me.” The orc snarls as he climbs up into the loft and seizes me by the wrist. My arm screams in agony. “No, please!” Tears are streaming down my face as the terror and the pain overtake me. I can’t die now, not after how much I went through to get this far. What will they do to me? String me up in the middle of the town square, or chop off my head, or something worse?
The big trollkin drags me begging and crying out of the loft, then tosses me to the ground. I land hard on my back and it throws all the breath from my lungs. My wound tears open, any of the barest healing it might have done gone as I struggle to breathe. Gasping, I curl onto my side and grip my wound tightly to protect it.
A pair of massive boots land next to my head. I try to get back to my feet, but next thing I know, his huge hand has wrapped around my neck. He hauls me up into the air, and my cry catches in my throat where he’s crushing my windpipe. I flail, but my legs only meet the unforgiving plane of his belly.
“Please,” I choke out, “don’t kill me. I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”
I search his bright yellow eyes, willing him to understand me, begging him with every last ounce of my being to let me go. He glares back, enraged, ready to tear me apart. These are my last moments, I’m sure of it.
Please, I say silently, choking as he tightens his grip. Don’t kill me. I’ve come too far to die.
Suddenly, his brows loosen. Then his eyes grow wide and his hand goes slack around my throat. I fall to the ground in a heap, gasping and clawing at my neck, trying to get the breath back in my lungs.
What did I see in there just now? It was like... a flash of recognition, as if somehow, this orc and I have met before.
I gag a few more times, and glance up as he crouches down next to me. I roll away, fully intending to jump to my feet and make a run for it, but he grabs onto me again, holding me in place.
“Zurek ag yar,” he growls, and I fall still before he can choke me a second time. His hand travels down my arm to my hot wound and I resist the urge to flee with all my power. When he leans forward, I’m afraid he’s going to use it to hurt me more—but he’s only peering at the ripped-open skin. What is he doing? I don’t know why he cares whether I’m injured or not.
