Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
He makes a hrmpf’ing sound, 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’s glowing.
Chapter
Six
Oran
“I saw 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—”
“And those,” 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 I want is to find out what my brother is doing stealing our sister’s clothes… Actually, no I don’t. I don’t care. I know, 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?”
“I don’t know. She says it calms people down and helps them to deal with their problems.”
The single laugh falls from my lips. “No problems are solved with talk.”
“We try it. Just start by telling me what the clothes are for. And the flowers.”
Mol stares at me, and it’s clear he’s not going to back down. I might be working with Cardan more these days, but Mol is still the leader of our clan. Unless I want a fight, I’m going to have to give him something. And I don’t have time for a fight, not with Ivy all alone.
I consider my words, eyeing him with suspicion, then grunt out, “Does Raven like flowers?”
His eyes narrow. “You’re bringing flowers for my mate?”
“No.” The word rumbles from my lips. I start to go past him. This therapy thing is bullshit. It’s going to get one of us killed.
“She likes flowers,” Mol growls. “Humans like flowers. They brighten up the place. Apparently.”
“Like a fire?”
He shrugs. “They just look at them. And smell them. Who are these flowers for?”
“Nobody. A human.”
“What human? A human female? Oran…”
“Nobody,” I repeat, and this time I grab his arm and pull it out of the way, storming out of the hut.
“Oran, if you have a mate I should know.” His words trail after me as I stomp through the camp. “I am Mol. I am leader. Oran!”
“No mate,” I grunt, then see Athaan coming out of our mother’s tent. She looks me up and down then starts to grin.
“What’s this about a mate? And why do you have flowers? And female clothes…? Wait, are those my clothes?”
“I will get you more,” I growl, and hurry my steps as I head for the edge of the camp.
The scream cuts through me like a knife, and I feel my heart start to speed. The woods are suddenly too large, too encroaching. Before I know it, I’m dropping into a crouch as I start to run forward, heading towards the sound, but I already know who it was.
Ivy.
I’d recognize her voice underwater from a mile away. She doesn’t sound terrified. She sounds furious. And that might be worse.