He was going beat Tyleios Cannis to death with his own arms, but only after he’d ripped them right out of their sockets! He’d known the Satyr for the last hundred Suns and the fact the bastard would even consider he’d had something to do with Draven Taraxus’ death was mind boggling!
Never mind that his Liege and best friend was alive and well! He’d been accused of the crime and was on his way to stand trial for it when Griffon’s attacked the transport ship. He swore to all the Gods he could think of, the very instant he could, he would beat the former First Magistrate, now Interim King of Bra’ka, to death!
He was going to strip the wings off that bastard of a Griffon who led the attack on The Nval and killed most of the troops he once commanded! He was going to gleefully stuff the feathers down his red-orange beak until he choked to death!
He was going to yank the horn right off the head of a certain manipulating Unicorn with his bare hands! He was going to dig his eyes right out of their sockets with it then cut off his shiny hooves with Thonu and watch, without remorse, as the rat bastard flopped around on the ground in pure agony! He might even hang the mongrel from the nearest tree with his own tail!
He was going to…
Chapter Six
A swish of cloth on cloth pierced through Arin’s plans many hours later and he slowly blinked Neria into focus. She crossed the shadows, moving on silent feet that surprised him. Most Orc’s didn’t care about stealth, at all. They were usually about as quiet as a starving Scorpion chasing down its next meal.
But not her. She moved with a quiet confidence that cleared the fog of rage just a little more. Carrying a large bowl, she hummed softly, folding her legs to sit next to the cage near his head. She smiled and picked up a chunk of fish. Passing her hand through the bars, she held it close enough to the metal on his face that he could slurp it off her fingers.
She said nothing, just fed him another piece after he managed to swallow the first. It wasn’t easy. The muzzle they’d put on him for transport was one of the worst in the Five Kingdoms.
Quite literally a cage, it molded over a snout, circling the flesh with Rustac metal so tight that opening ones mouth beyond an increment was impossible. Never mind the equally thick piece that curved under the jaw and could be attached to a collar or other similar restraint. It pressed against the throat and was unforgiving in its rigidity. With each swallow he’d managed since it was put on, it felt like it was trying to choke the life right out of him.
The bit of food hit his innards and they rumbled, wanting more. It’d been too many rotations since he’d had any real sustenance and now that it was coming, it was the best he’d ever had!
Neria must have heard it. She continued to hum a soothing tune and the film over his eyes lightened another shade. There was no way to tell how long it took him to eat but finally his stomach quit making noises.
With a sadness in her gaze, she brushed her fingers against the muzzle. “If you behave, I may be able to convince Oda to let me take that off…”
He leaned into the gentle caress, closing his eyes so she wouldn’t see his hatred for the Captain. When he had it under control, he caught hers and gave a small nod. If it meant he could speak or even eat like a normal man, he’d sit here and be the best prisoner they’d ever had…
***
Two more rotations came and went before Haydn’s patience wore thin enough to approach the Captain. She headed up to the bridge and stopped in the doorway.
Oda was bent over a chart while she conversed with her second-in-command.
She’d been careful to keep her dealings with the prisoner to a minimum, visiting only twice a daylight. Once in the morning to check the wounds and again in the evening to feed him whatever leftover scraps she could gather.
It wasn’t much, but he was slowly gaining strength. Not fast, but she could see it in the burnished gold of his eyes. They swirled and twisted, sparkling and defiant each time she approached the cage. No doubt he was whiling away the ticks by seething over his circumstances.
And who could blame the poor man?
She certainly couldn’t! She knew exactly who he was, why he was in their hold and if he had any hope to survive what would happen once they returned home, he would have to gain much more strength.
“What?!”
Oda’s bark shook her out of her thoughts and she cleared her throat softly, adopting the demure persona she always used with the older woman. “Pardon Ma’am. Might I ask a favor?”
One bushy eyebrow rose slowly, granting permission without saying a word.
“I would ask to remove the prisoner’s muzzle. When I feed him,” she clarified quickly.
The eyebrow went back down, pinching her steel-grey eyes into a narrow glare. “For what reason?”
She had two choices here. She could lie outright and if she was caught in it, she’d be tossed overboard like poor Lik. If she told the truth, she’d definitely be tossed over the railing into the freezing water.
She chose the lie and just hoped she didn’t get caught.
“If you wish to gain the maximum price, he will need to be fattened up.”
Oda’s face relaxed and her lips pursed. “True. He is a scrawny thing now, is he not?”
She nodded slowly, carefully schooling her face into a passive mask. “That he is. He will barely fetch 2 necat’s in the betting.”
She let the woman figure it out from there. Oda was no fool and Haydn saw the exact moment she’d finished making the profit calculations in her head.
“Very well,” she finally said. “But only to feed him.” She turned to the Orc beside her. “Let cook know the prisoner is to be given twice rations.” She turned back with a wide smile, the steel-grey of her eyes sparkling. “If those heathens can make enough off his bones alone, this may not be a wasted endeavor after all.”
***
Arin heard her descending the stairs earlier than normal. A beat of fear skipped across his hearts but he drew in a breath and stuffed the feeling back under the rage.
She glided across the hold and set a rather large bowl on top of his cage. Steam curled into the air off the contents and the aroma of fresh food drifted up his nostrils, cooling the anger in his thoughts by a small measure.
Neria hummed, like always, checking over his wounds with the tender touch of a healer. Granted she’d always been gentle, from rotation one, but this was…different. Like she really cared.
He watched her work, surprised yet again by the Orc woman who, for some reason he couldn’t name, had become his lifeline over the last daylights. His fury cooled by another notch as her long, blue fingers flittered over the cuts one by one.
She wasn’t typical of the others he’d met before or dealt with in his life. Most of her kind tended toward a green skin color. They were usually short, with thick chests, stout arms and bowed legs. They kept their hair cropped close and their skin was almost always hardened and dry, despite many a life on the open waters.
Virtually exterminated in the Great Wars of Sun 1627, they’d been forced from their lands and had taken to the sea to survive. Most tended to go barefoot, their stubby toes used to climb rigging or hold to a steel deck with great efficiency. Orcs were scavengers and prowled the oceans, taking whatever they could from wrecks or previously pirated ships for their own use or to sell.
But not Neria. She was tall enough, he thought, to just fall under his chin. Her long blue hair was just a shade darker than the rest of her and the braid she’d twisted it in, brushed the backs of her thighs when she walked. Her chest was full and supple, her breasts shifting beneath the white blouse she wore. Leather sandals covered her feet and creaked in time with the waves lapping at the sides of the ship.
Her inspection finally done, she pulled a small jar from the pocket of her skirt and applied more salve to any that needed it.
He wanted to express his gratitude in some way and tapped a nail against the nearest metal rung.
She paused, a bluish eyebrow l
ifting.
In that moment, as they stared at one another in silence, he did the only thing he could. He smiled.
She returned it, tilting her head a bit then went back to work. She gathered up the bowl when she’d finished and sat.
He worked his jaw under the metal, opening and closing it as much as he could to get ready for the food she’d brought along. Eating was a strain, but he’d found over the last daylights if he worked his mouth, it helped. He was so focused on that simple chore he failed to notice her hands slipping around the back of his neck.
With a click and snap, the catch on the muzzle popped open. He squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to hope he’d actually heard the sound he’d been dreaming to hear for the last eleven rotations. The same tender touch that had treated his wounds just moments before, carefully pulled the straps apart and eased the tight metal off the short snout he was cursed with as a Neither-Born Chimera.
Tentative fingers smoothed across his whiskers and he gulped without feeling the stiff metal jam into his windpipe for the first time since he’d been taken from the cell in Gahroon.
She let the piece dangle from his collar and slowly curved a hand against his cheek, her thumb rubbing gently over the bridge of his nose. “Better?”
He didn’t open his eyes but turned into her palm, drawing the scents wafting off her flesh into his lungs.
The twinge of freshly burned wood, salt from the sea and some flower he couldn’t name teased over his own stench and he licked his lips, which alternately ran his tongue along her skin. It shuddered against his whiskers and he snapped open his eyes, swinging them toward hers.
The light blue and red orbs dropped slightly and a soft whisper of air slipped through her parted lips. Her shoulders tensed and she cleared her throat, slowly pulling her hand away. “Better?” she asked again.
He swallowed, hating his scratchy, barely identifiable voice. “Yes. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
She settled herself on the floor, the bowl in her lap and scooped a healthy portion onto a spoon. Sliding it through the bars, she held it up for him and he stretched against the collar locked to the bars to take the mouthful.
Her gaze slid to his neck, lips tightening together. “I wish I could do more.”
He did too and his ire lessened a little at the simple statement. He wished she could free him. Even if she left him in the cage, being able to move would be wonderful. It wasn’t going to happen but maybe he could get her to at least free his hands. He rattled the cuffs on his wrists. “Please?”
There was as begging note to the word that reignited the fury in his thoughts but he kept it off his face, or tried too.
Regret brightened the red flecks in her eyes. “I cannot.”
It’d been worth a try and he settled back against the bars again, opening his mouth to wait for the next spoonful.
She obliged and said nothing else until the bowl was empty. Setting it aside, a single tear sparkled on her lower lids as she picked up the muzzle again. He figured it would be replaced and almost accepted it but turned his head at the last moment.
“Wait, I have questions,” he whispered.
He heard the gulp and the shake in her voice was not lost on him. “I know.”
Gentle pressure on his chin turned his face back and he wasn’t immune to the tears streaking a path down her cheeks. His hearts knocked together, hard and that was the only thing that stopped him from sinking his teeth into her fingers before she slipped the metal back into place.
With nothing better to do once she’d left again, he sighed and used the time to plot and plan all the ways he was going to slaughter those on his ever growing list of enemies.
Cannis…any number of Griffons…a few Ogre’s…definitely a number of the Orc’s that had spent those first rotations dropping their blades through the cage…Golix…
Cloth rustled against skin and his gaze tilted toward the portal in the wall. The water line was half-way up the glass, but he could see enough of the sky to know it was well past high dark. She’d never come this late, even in the beginning and it brought his eyes back down, seeing the smallest pinprick of light against the dark.
They never left any illumination down here and once the shadows lengthened across the room, he sat alone in the blackness until the next daylight. The light flickered, stirred by her movements and a small dish clinked against the top the cage.
The tiny pile of flames danced shadows over Neria’s face and he swallowed back the mouthful of perpetual drool he’d been suffering with since this all started. Good thing too. Her hands slipped between the bars and the catch at the base of his neck released.
“I cannot stay long,” she whispered in a low voice. “Ask.”
There were so many but the one that kept screaming the loudest for an answer was simple. “What is your name?”
***
Her name? Out of the hundreds of things he could possibly want to know, that was not one she would have expected. And she wasn’t really sure how to answer it. She finally decided on the truth. “Haydn. Haydn Durel.”
He whispered it, the sound close to an endearment and a tickle of hot yearning skipped across her chest. He said it again and she couldn’t stop the flare of heat from twisting down her arm. Sweat collected on her skin and she knew what was coming. Her name on his lips a third time, lit the spark and bright orange flames burst to life in her palm.
She jerked, entranced by the flickering heat like always then curled her fingers in, snuffing it out. The sizzle rang across the silence and she lifted her gaze back to his. His features were unreadable and she cleared her throat nervously.
“Say something.”
A thrum of disbelief rang in his next words. “A Fire Orc?”
An uncharacteristically girlish giggle belted from her throat. She slapped a hand over her lips to muffle it and it took a moment before she could regain control of herself. “No.”
“Then, how did you…”
The rest of that question drifted off into the shadows and while she really didn’t feel like explaining her heritage, she found the words coming out before she could stop them. “My mother was a Phoenix’s slave.”
Chapter Seven
Haydn didn’t return until late the next day and looked very tired. Dark bags hung under her eyes and he wanted to question what was wrong. But, she didn’t remove the muzzle, checked his wounds then left again.
It frustrated him but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d just have to wait until she came back with food. Maybe then he could squeeze in a question or two between bites…
As the portal window went from light to shadow, she announced her presence with the usual swish of cloth and skin. Were it not for his sensitive ears he never would have heard it though. She carried something new with her this darkfall and his hearts nearly jumped out of his chest with joy over the sight.
She set a pair of buckets next to the cage, steam rising off the surface of each and if she was going to do what he thought she might, he’d be forever in her debt. Even though he was used to hard work and didn’t mind sweating, sitting stationary in one’s own filth was a bit much, even for him.
Calmly pulling a small knife from one of her pockets, her eyes were a bit sad as she went about cutting off the filthy rags. Bit by bit, she pulled the remains out of the cage and dropped them in a pile, presumably to be burned or tossed overboard.
Not that he cared. He was just happy they were gone.
She stilled, her eyes roaming slowly up and down his body. He’d never been ashamed of himself and sat up a bit straighter, hampered only by the cuffs and ropes at showing off what the God’s had graced him with.
Her mouth opened and she exhaled softly, her breasts pushing against her blue top. She licked her lips, the moisture glistening in the fading light and despite the circumstances, he wanted to kiss her. Maybe just a light peck to show his gratitude, but still, the desire was there and his body responded in kind. B
lood flowed to the area between his legs and he lengthened quickly…
Good God’s above, how long had it been for him?
Too long apparently if he could get hard now!
The light blue flecks overshadowed the red in her eyes and pheromones laden with desire drifted across the stillness to his nose. His hearts jackhammered against his sternum at the smell, pounding more blood between his legs.
Lanni was dead, barely cold as it were, and here he was betraying her…
No, wait, he hadn’t done anything.
Yet!
Shut it!
No!
He rolled his eyes at his own inner voice and sighed her scent back out of his lungs.
It wasn’t right. Lanni was his Lyra, his Protectorate and that deserved loyalty, dead or not.
Protectorate. Not lover! Not Mate!
He’d thought she might be, had felt the stirrings of it for sure, but something always kept them apart. At first he thought it was the spell, but now…he had to wonder.
Even though he was Neither Born, he was still a Chimera and his mother had raised him in the customs and beliefs of his people.
One such, and probably the most important was the Pride Alpha dictated who could or should mate with whom. For the most part it was functional, a way to propagate their race and very rarely for some notion of love.
Chimera women didn’t have monogamous relationships. Based on their health, age and status within the Pride, if they were available during Season, the Alpha paired them off with a suitable male for the duration of their cycle.
Afterwards, she returned home and if she was lucky enough to conceive, raised the kittlings with the help of the Pride’s other females. In a lifetime, she could have many males in her bed and none of them seemed to mind.
At least not that he’d ever heard.
The exceptions were the Neither-Born’s, like himself, his adoptive mother and three of his six brothers. Most of his type didn’t make it to their first Sun. They were usually killed by their mother’s but if she couldn’t, she left them for dead somewhere.
To Save The Broken Heart: Dragons, Griffons and Centaurs, Oh My! (Dragons, Griffons, and Centaurs, Oh My!) Page 5
