Page 28 of Wed to the Orc Captive

“In bed. In…in sex. What do you like?” This was the better topic. He had clearly forgotten that in his mind we had been arguing.

“Are you worried about something?”

“Isn’t this a normal thing to ask a husband?” I threw the onions in. “This is all I’m able to do for you right now.”

“I’m not exactly showering you with gifts myself.” He fiddled with the handle of a sword. “I like it when you make sounds.”

“Sounds?”

“Like…” he brought his voice into falsetto. “Ah.”

I ducked over the cauldron, wished I could pretend the heat in my face was only steam.

For once he didn’t mock my embarrassment. “It’s nice to know what’s working and what’s not. Just…that we like the same things.”

“I’ll try to talk more.”

“Sure.” He cleared his throat. “What about you? What do you like?”

“I like…” Flashes of the night before came to mind, skin and heat and so many feelings I wasn’t ready to understand. The words seemed jumbled, lost, and I had to say something, couldn’t look like an idiot— “Your chin.”

He laughed out loud. It looked like it hurt, the awkward way he held himself. “My chin?”

“It’s…” I sounded so stiff. “It looks nice.”

That teasing came back, that devilish smile. “There’s got to be a better answer than that. You seem to like it when I—" His head snapped up. He’d heard something.

In a flash he grabbed the blanket off the roll and threw it over his legs, the sword at his side. And then I heard the next twig snap, saw the figures moving through the trees.

“Hakran,” the lead waved in greeting. “We ask permission to share your fire.”

Three human men walked out of the trees towards us.

TO SHARE A FIRE

Vrathgar didn’t budge, rigid, from his place against the tree. “Hakran,” he said. “Our fire is yours, and what provision you can eat, before my brethren return. They’re unlikely to be as eager to share.” He inclined his head, like he acknowledged some sign I didn’t see. “You’re friends of the Droth?”

The first man sat by our fire, near Vrathgar’s feet, too comfortably. “Aye. Me and Stephan, we fought alongside the Droth at Hammer’s Ridge. Dewan is new to these parts, hired in by the baron.”

Dewan sat heavily across the fire, a mountain of a person with a beard like discarded flax. He didn't smile. The other, Stephan, sat beside him, his shoulders hunched, eyes on the fire.

“I’m Ronnel, by the way.” The first one still smiled, widely. Too much.

“Vrathgar One-Eye’s Son.” He gave a surname I’d never heard before.

“One-Eye’s Son.” The chatty one— Ronnel— cocked his head to one side. “I suppose it’s bad manners to ask what the horde is doing this far south.”

“It is,” Vrathgar said, clipped. “But we fanned out a bit, after the raids on the town near Bonnybrook.”

“So hiding spoils.”

Vrathgar shrugged one shoulder. “Think as you like.”

The man’s eyes strayed over to me. “And I suppose this one is from the spoils as well.”

“No,” said Vrathgar, and I barely saw his jaw tic. “She joined us previously.”

“A camp follower?” His eyebrows rose, like he was assessing me anew. “Pretty luxury, to have a woman around.”