by Trevor Zex
“You are poetic, for a fairy tale ogre,” Teza blurted.
She grinned at him, more uncomfortable with his tender and visionary side than with the fierce warrior who abducted her.
His ability to keep surprising her and filling her with hope that he might be as honorable as he seemed unsettled her. It made it difficult to play a part and continue plotting to leave him.
His lip twitched and he kissed her again, teasing her lips with his tongue tip, dipping inside her mouth. He drew back, wonder glowing in his eyes.
“The dream did not tell this sweetness.” He caressed her face. “The dream did not tell the satisfaction, the truest love I would find in your arms. Teza, join me in creating the time that must come.”
Her heart surged. She wanted to join with him, but the obedient daughter of her upbringing quailed at the thought. This would mean defying her parents—instead of forging the alliance she’d been born to fulfill.
How could she have two such conflicting destinies? Mercifully, the languor from their intimate acts took over, and all her thoughts fell to rest. She found peace in his arms.
Gark crooned to her, and one of his claws scratched her, giving her shivers.
It seemed minutes later that sun hit her face. She awakened to Gark’s his magnificent muscles flexing as he put on his chest plate.
“I’m due to meet with the patrols. Get some rest. I was hard on you.”
“Yes, you were.” She shot him a smile.
“I have more surprises for you.” He raked his hair back.
“More—?” She shifted her weight, sore inside.
With his fast, strangely light stride, he reached her and crushed her against him. His mouth claimed her.
Gark chuckled. “You’ll see.”
PERIL
PRINCESS TEZA ROSE from the warm bed. She’d indulged in a nap after gardening. The sound of Gark’s voice roused her. She’d slept past dark.
“It’s good you’re resting. I may keep you up late tonight.”
Stretching, she smiled at him. Next to the bed, she discovered new fleece-lined slippers.
“Oh, the surprises!”
A fine tunic lay over a trunk. She ran her hand over the forest-green fabric. The garment was made of thicker, stronger stuff than her traveling tunic.
She held the gift to her face and stroked it. Masterful weaving made it soft, unlike her first orc garment. A wide belt suitable for carrying weapons and water lay next to the slippers.
If only it held her sword.
Emotion squeezed her throat. Gark made time to get gifts for her on his medicine run.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I am glad to help you feel at home.” His deep rumbling voice gave her tingles and reached where she was tender from his fucking.
Emotion closed her throat.
“Thank you. These are all pleasing things, beautiful as well as useful.”
“I enjoy pleasing you, Teza.”
She ducked her head. She felt the same, and he knew it. Her cheeks grew warm.
“Was it successful, your expedition for the medicine?”
“I hope so. I took the plants to the healers as soon as I arrived.” He drew a long breath, his face going dark.
“What’s wrong?”
Two of the orclings died before I got back. Latham, the blacksmith’s son might die tonight.”
“How can I help?”
“You’re good, Teza, but I’ve seen how you flinch from the noise and approaches of orclings. I understand. They could harm you without meaning it. Nursing them isn’t for you. Not yet.” His eyes glittered.
He smoothed her snarled hair. “Stay here, rest, work out your tangles.”
She sensed he meant more than her hair. It might be that the sensitivity to thoughts and feelings went both ways.
“All right.” She rubbed her foot on the rug, wishing she could do something.
“When I return, we’ll go and look at the barn for Rune held.”
“Barn?”
“Yes. I’ve had her under guard day and night for safety from Fang. As soon as the barn is ready, we can keep her close to us.”
“Oh. Oh, I see.”
Dernen told her the huge structure rising behind the garden was a barn, and she’d wondered at its size. How clever of Gark.
She’d resented having to wait for guards to bring Rune held to her, but Gark hadn’t distrusted her, he’d been protecting them. The guards wore ordinary clothes and led Rune held under a tarp. From the air, the young dragon would look like a cart moving down the lane. From the sorceress’ dragon-eye-view, it wasn’t apparent the orc mages prepared for battle.
Teza didn’t know how to apologize for not trusting him. She laid her hand on his muscle-corded arm.
“It’s alright. Everything is unfamiliar to you, including me.”
“Yes.” She let her breath out slowly. For all the attention paid to her in the palace at home, no one had seen her so much as Gark.
“All the blacksmiths have been working long hours preparing thin sheets of metal. They’ll line an inner pen so she’s safe from starting a fire when no one’s watching.”
“That’s a good thing.” She held up her hand.
Her small finger was smooth on one side from getting caught in Runeheld’s fire burp.
Gark kissed the healed burn.
“We have an orcling fire brigade keeping buckets of water at the ready in case of stray sparks.” He grinned. “You’ve done a wonderful job of helping her control her fire. Dernen told me how much help you’ve been with the chores, and what fast progress Rune held makes with your tutelage.”
“She did?
“Yes, a truly high-regard report. Dernen seems grim, because like you, she’s not fond of inactivity. She was a general until a human weapon damaged her leg. She can and will fight mounted, but she’s older than she looks and has too much honor to put others at risk.” He tilted his head. “I’m sorry. I see I should have said more to you about her. We’re in general more action-based than your kind.”
“You think a great deal. Clearly, you plan defense and offense with great effectiveness.”
“Yes, we do. It’s like breathing, when you’ve had to fight all your life.”
She squeezed his arm. The myth of the warlike orc crumbled a bit more. His bite on her throat throbbed. Bloodthirsty, perhaps. Then, so was she.
“You aren’t the mean orc of fairy stories,” she blurted.
“Who says I’m not?” He pulled her hair playfully.
A sex jolt shot between her legs to the place his cock head hit far inside of her.
“Brute.”
He gestured to the blood blossom she made on him.”Brute.” He raised his chin, taunting her.
She laughed, her hair brushing her bare skin.
His big hand stroked her, warming her back.
It was difficult to think about playing a part and then leaving him. She was no longer playing a part. She wanted to give him pleasure. She wanted him to fuck her again. Rocking her tenderness against his thigh, she ached for his monster cock, wanting him to spear her.
He kissed her throat. “I’ll be back again before the moon rises to her full height over the trees.” He pointed to the forest where the moon would cast cold light later in the night.
“Good.” Her fervor made her voice sultry. Had any royal woman of her realm sounded thus? She couldn’t imagine it.
He chucked. “Yes. Good for both of us.”
He knew what she thought, that she wanted him. Her face became hotter and the heat extended to her breasts. Her nipples hardened.
He kissed her, pressing his lips softly on hers.
A frisson of nerves went through her. She’d only got the comfort of his presence back. She didn’t want him to leave her alone. Her hands tightened on his hips.
The storm pressure in the air was the least of it. She felt the evil battle brewing. Hair stood on her arms, as though she could see the sorceress pre
paring her goblins and flying monkeys for a mutilating attack on them.
“Be at ease. You’re safe here. No harm will come to you from me or any other.” Gark embraced her roughly and pulled away.
He buckled on a sword, pulled on his leather breast plate, and rushed out.
His life differed so much from hers. She’d trained as a warrior because of tradition. From infancy until the trip to her wedding, she hadn’t known a moment of danger. The orcs faced possible attacks, violent and sneaky, heinous kinds, at all times.
She had a mere glimmer of what that must be like, how such danger would form a person and an entire culture.
Her fingers went to work at the big sex snarl behind her neck.
The fairy tales had it wrong. It wasn’t the ogres who were monsters, it was her people. She prayed Latham lived. She wasn’t sure which orcling he was, but no innocent should die of poison.
She caught her reflection in a shield. She looked fierce as an orc woman. The significance of the barn reached her. Gark was right. If Fang saw Rune held, the big dragon would kill her.
She had to train Runeheld to protect herself.
Pacing the room, she pulled too hard at the tangle and stopped, letting her hands hang. She reached for where she’d worn her sword for so long. As soon as possible, she must be armed. The moon rose behind an apple tree covered in ravens. She closed her eyes against its bright face.
Tonight, Runeheld willing, she’d learn to ride.
Wind whipped at her. The flapping of huge leathery wings passed over the house. Fang.
A blast of fire lit the night.
To be continued...
About the Author
Trevor Zex grew up reading comic books and watching horror and science fiction flicks. Epic and Dark Fantasy seduced him at an early age. His dirty mind envisioned the uncensored scenes that lurid pulp covers suggested. He performed many weird jobs before setting off to see the world.Prior to self-publishing in a top-secret identity, he sold several science fiction and fantasy stories and novellas to pro editors.
The proceeds from years of work financed—nothing much. Rapid calculations revealed death might arrive faster than a livable income via the traditional route.
Come, enter his wicked worlds where twisted things happen.
Check out his adult Fantasy & Science Fiction blog. Follow him there to be the first to know about new releases and special deals.
