Gentling the Beast: Sweet Monsters (Coveted Prey Book 19) by L.V. Lane

Author:L.V. Lane [Lane, L.V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781922630353
Publisher: Three Spires Creative
Published: 2023-11-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Jasmine

There is no market in Krug today. In the place of colorful stalls, a gallows has been built—a raised platform with wooden steps and a cross-arm from which hangs a sturdy rope.

Crowds gather to watch the white orc, who is a nephew to the warlord—and who is mute in two ways—hang.

My eyes are so swollen from my tears that I can barely see. Bard coached me not to come. Only how could I do anything else?

I am not the one who is on the gallows, but I must be a different kind of brave. I know the image will haunt me for the rest of my life, but I want Doug to see me here for him even though I cannot save him in the way he saved me.

The sun is already blistering hot, and the crowd is raucous, full of a strange, off-kilter merriment that seems misplaced in light of what’s about to happen.

Sellers call out, advertising their wares as they push carts laden with food and drinks through the throng. Bard walks at my side. I feel his worried eyes upon me as we press through the people, aided by our orc escort, at the front of which is Bron, the dark-skinned orc.

With every step, I’m breaking into pieces that no passage of time will mend. Yet I force myself forward, desperate for the chance to see Doug once more.

Finally, there is no more crowd in front of us. Bron moves to the side, and I find myself standing before a rope barrier. The rope is attached to stakes that form a circle separating the people from the gallows where the hanging will take place.

The wooden gallows are so much larger than they seemed from a distance, and so much more frightening.

Someone grumbles that we have cut in. Bron bares his teeth and the human spectator quiets.

Orcs wearing the imperial uniform patrol inside the circle, hands on the clubs at their waists should any spectators get out of hand. From the left, a phalanx of orc guards march into the open space. My breath catches as, for a moment, I see Doug between them. Taller than his guards, he cuts an imposing figure; his white skin glistening in the sun. I reach out to hold onto the rope barrier as I strain for my next glimpse of him, and a reckless compulsion grips me.

A thick arm clamps around my waist before I realize my intentions. I thrash against it. Consequence be damned, I need to hold Doug one more time.

“Behave, foolish human,” Bron growls. “Do you want his last memory to be of you being beaten down by the guards? For that is what they shall do, without hesitation, if you try to go to him.”

My eyes shift to the orcs surrounding Doug. I see the way they assess the crowd, clubs at the ready in their hands. And it is not only them. The orcs who patrol the barrier watch with similar menace in their eyes, searching for any opportunity to deal with trouble.

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