Page 71 of Wed to the Orc Captive

“Further what?”

He blinked, and twisted the straws. “...discomfort.”

“Oh. How very kind.” My voice was higher than it needed to be.

He looked up for the first time during this discussion, seemed to realize something was wrong with my face. I tried to breathe. Saints and devils, could I not hold my stupid self together for one handbreadth? “Annora⁠—"

“I should get water,” I said, still high-pitched. I stood, unsteady, pulled the jar down, hoped he didn’t hear how the bottom still sloshed. “This can wait, yes? I don’t need to say I’m going to make love to you today?” I sounded ridiculous. I was going to be fine. It didn’t matter that this didn’t matter to him.

“...of course. Annora⁠—"

“You owe me nothing besides the protection you’ve shown thus far. Please do not worry yourself. I will not be twice dragging you to bed.” I had lived without his love before and I would do it again.

“Annora, that isn’t what I meant⁠—"

I reached the door, worked around the heavy jar to unbar it. I’d have to dry out my eyes before I got back, splash my face in the stream, something. It wouldn’t do to have him see me crying.

“Annora.” He’d stood. His injured leg thudded as he reached the door beside me, and his hand found the doorframe, braced himself against that wall. “Are you alright?”

No. No, I wasn’t. No, because I wanted him, and the one man I cared for was offering me that our bodies didn’t have to mean anything, that we didn’t have to mean anything.

“...I need to get the water.” My whole throat hurt. “Please.”

He pulled away, another step. “I’ll never keep you when you want to go.” His voice was hoarse.

“Thank you.”

“Annora—"

I was through the door and away.

The sun set so quickly inside the mountain that by the time I reached the stream, everything was murky and dim. Not that my traitor-tears made my vision any clearer.

The only voices were further downstream, the darkened bank blessedly empty, and I bent over, gasping at the air, trying to drag myself together.

He was trying to help me. He was offering me sanctuary. How many women married for some kind of legal status? A husband who offered a life without having to go to his bed, without even having to live together…this was a good offer. I should be grateful for the offer.

Did it make me a terrible hag, to be crying here instead?

The thought stabbed. What would Vrathgar think, when I ran away at the mention of bedding him once? It shouldn’t matter so much what he thought, when he made it clear he wanted nothing from me. I didn’t want it to matter, and it did. My whole chest ached. It did.

I filled the jar.

Now what? Going back and facing him sounded terrible, but if I took too long and he came for me⁠—

“You are good?”

Khal’s younger cousin, Larrakh, stood in the shallows. More voices moved down the way.

“I’m fine.” My voice was rough.

She watched me. “Water.”

“Yes.”

Her shoulders swung. They moved differently, the orc women. Was it because they grew up learning to fight, and run, and hunt? Was it that I’d been raised for a cage, and they hadn't?

I’d never belong here.