Sacrificed to the Orc by Cain Corin

Author:Cain, Corin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

12

HAZEL

I sit cross-legged on the floor on the fur coat that smells of him, my back to the wall. An orc woman, perhaps in her forties, watched me curiously as she brought a bundle with dried fish and a few green, tangy plants. She was nervous to get near me, putting the food down near the bars then making a quick retreat. I ate greedily, bringing the food near the back of the cave to avoid the jealous looks of the guard as he watched me dine. I rub my wrists where the ropes bit into me.

The cave air is dank and wet, the moss growing on the far side giving off a strong, musty odor. Water drips down the wall, and I used it to wash my hands and face, trying to get a semblance of control. The prison descends into darkness, where skittering noises put me on edge, and I keep glancing over compulsively, looking for any sign of animals moving. The rivulet of water streaming down the wall is icy cold, likely glacier fed, and I drank deep. There is even a small stone bowl of sweetgrass, which I chewed, freshening my mouth.

I grab the furs, pulling them to my nose, and inhale his familiar scent.

Askan, my captor, my ruin, the only man who has ever made me feel the deep pangs of need, the only man who has made me yearn so deeply it terrifies me. He’s been an alien, a savage stranger since rejoining with his war-brothers, but his smell is his and his alone, reminding me of his protectiveness that makes me long for him.

The young orc guard stiffens. Heavy bootsteps make my heart jump. Askan. I can see him through the bars, broad and powerful, towering over the younger guard by a head.

On his muscled chest, between the twin, mirrored black crescent runes of stealth, is a violent addition.

The blood moon. Crimson, dripping with his own blood that mixes with the fresh ink. It is the image of the night sky, the same sky that will be the last thing I see, staring up, before the knife opens my artery and my blood flows on the black altar.

Askan states something in orcish, his voice low and cold, his green eyes intense on the young orc, who practically jumps to obey, bowing his head in a rushed series of nods and handing over the keys. In his eagerness to retreat, the young orc knocks over the stool, which clatters to the ground. He is about to bend over to right it when Askan’s glare sends him scurrying away.

“Come closer, prisoner! Where I can see you!” Askan commands me, his booming voice echoing purposefully.

I jolt upright, my body responding to his command instinctively. Clutching the heavy fur, I walk with trepidation towards the man I thought I knew. His savagery terrifies me. The ivory sharpness of his fangs, the rich green hues of his skin, the piercing emeralds of his eyes that delve into my soul, pulling out my deepest, darkest secrets.

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