Captured by the Orc General: Monstrous Mates Book Two (Monstrous Mates Series 2)

BAZUR IS GONE WHEN I wake in the morning.

His boots and cloak were missing from the door when I came down from the second floor. I am grateful for this time apart, it will give me a chance to think. To process what transpired between us and how we go from here.

My eyes feel puffy and my nose is chapped. I had cried myself to sleep during the early morning hours. Bazur never came to bed and for some reason that made me cry even harder.

I scrubbed my face in the washroom and tried my best to soothe my swollen eyes. If Bazur doesn’t trust me, doesn’t trust that I’m not here for some nefarious purpose, then he can fuck off. I know my truth, my character. Lady Myren and Mornga knew my character and decided to trust me. If Bazur wants to insist on me being his enemy, then maybe I will be.

Whatever relationship I believed to be growing between us has wilted under his words last night. Only time will tell how successful he was. Last night, as I cried, I still wanted him. This morning, I can’t bear to see him.

Would he even apologize? I seriously doubt it.

That is what he thinks of me. What he has always thought of me. I am just an annoying human—probably a spy—here to make his life harder. He won’t trust me because I haven’t told him enough about me, but at the first opportunity, he takes what I shared with him and calls me a liar.

Real nice.

I’ll continue my mission without his help. I’ll figure out a way to help the humans still being held against their will to reach safety. I don’t need Bazur with his bad attitude and accusations.

My angry thoughts have absorbed so much of my concentration I barely register that I’ve already made it to Lady Myren’s until I’m pushing through the front door. The fire is roaring, and she turns from the bookcase with a soft smile on her face. The moment she sees me I know I did a poor job concealing my crying.

Her eyes soften and I turn away; I don’t want her to comment on it. I don’t want to explain this fight with Bazur. I clear my throat as I hang up my cloak on the hook.

“I’ll start cataloging the last of the seeds Bronwyn dropped off.” I walk toward the large bookcase. “Did Targoc leave on the mission with the others?”

Targoc is a good orc male. I’d much rather talk about him this morning than the one whose home I’m living in.

“Yes, I hate when he leaves on these missions, but they’ll only be gone for two days,” Lady Myren pauses as my whole body goes ridgid. Two days, that’s it? “Though, I get the sense some people wish it was longer.”

Despite myself I smile, falling into my seat at the workbench opposite of Lady Myren.

“Is it that obvious?” I ask as she slides me a steaming cup of tea.

“I’ve comforted many females after a fight with a male. The signs are easy enough to recognize.” I take a sip of the tea and shake my head.

“It’s not even like that between Bazur and I. I thought…I thought maybe we could have something. An understanding, a friendship, or something more…but last night he made it very clear what he thinks of me.” Taking another sip of tea, I swallow down the warm liquid. “He said something that really, really hurt me.”

“Then he needs to apologize,” Lady Myren says simply, “and he needs to mean it. Don’t forgive him until he does, or he’ll never learn. Males like to speak without thinking, it’s their most abhorrent quality.”

Chuckling softly into my teacup, I sigh. “I don’t think he will apologize.”

Why would he if that’s what he really thinks?

“Bazur is,” Lady Myren hesitates, “a complicated male. But he’s a good male nonetheless. He’ll fix this.”

“I don’t even know if it can be fixed.”

Lady Myren rounds the table and sits beside me on the bench. It’s not until I feel the wetness on my cheeks that I realize I’ve started crying again. She wraps her arm around me, tucking me into an embrace. The gesture is so kind, so maternal that I start audibly crying for a new reason.

“Let me ask you something: do you want him to fix it?” Lady Myren runs another soothing hand up my arm. I nod my head, not trusting my voice. “Then it can be fixed, but only if he apologizes, Kaethe. Remember that.”

I laugh and hiccup as I wipe the tears from my eyes. Returning Lady Myren’s hug, I inhale her smoky scent. Something about this feels right, a piece of me clicking into place. Lady Myren isn’t my mother, can never be my mother. But some small, broken part of me heals during our hug. I lean back and look into her wrinkled gray eyes.

“Call me, Kae,” I say softly. Lady Myren’s smile is small, and she nods, squeezing me one more time.

“I will, only if you promise to call me Myren.” My smile is watery as I squeeze her back.

The next day Myren and I had gone to visit Jessica and her new baby

Both of them were thriving and I spent hours there making sure both of them were as healthy and happy as possible. I stayed there longer than necessary because I wanted to be away from the house with the soldiers returning today. I couldn’t stand the possibility of Bazur waiting for me at the bottom of Myren’s steps.

After our visit concluded I made the journey back to Bazur’s house alone, relieved to find that he was still out. The day had drained me so thoroughly that I had crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep.

I hadn’t been asleep for very long when something tickled my face. My eyes blink open and I notice the lamp beside the bed is still on, illuminating the room in a warm flickering glow.

I look around, wondering what woke me.

It becomes obvious once I see who is sitting at the edge of the bed. I gasp, pulling my knees to my chest and rising into a sitting position. I clutch the blanket to me. Bazur sits motionless, staring off at the wall in front of him. There is a large leather satchel in his hands but it’s too dark for me to see what’s inside it.

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“I wanted” —he coughs, clearing his rough voice— “I wanted to apologize to you, for how I spoke to you before I left. I was wrong to say those things to you…about you. There’s no excuse. What I said was appalling and selfish and so wrong. I am so, so sorry, Kaethe.”

Tears threaten my eyes and I blink several times to keep them at bay. I say nothing. I’m happy he apologized, but he has to do more than say the words. He needs to mean it, like Myren said. So I sit and wait for him to show me he means it.

Another moment of silence passes before he takes a deep breath, his massive figure in the dark deflating with the exhale.

“I should’ve never, never thrown what happened to your parents back in your face. Knowing you trusted me with that information, and I used it to hurt you…Kaethe, I…” he shudders out another breath, “I am sorry. I can’t say that enough. It’s inexcusable and you should hate me. I hate me for hurting you.”

I don’t hate him, but I don’t say that. I just wait.

“Here I was, wanting to show you there is more to our kind than just cruelty and I go and do that.” He looks over his shoulder at me and I barely stop my gasp of shock. The lantern illuminates the harsh planes of his face and he looks horrible. Dark green circles appear like bruises under his eyes, as if he didn’t sleep the entire time he was away. His golden eyes are bloodshot, and his hair is in disarray.

Bazur looks at me with wide, devastated eyes and I brace myself for what he’s about to say.

“I know what it’s like to lose both your parents,” he says, gripping the bag in his hands tighter. “Vorgak isn’t my father.”

My brows furrow in confusion.

“King Bazrik, The Brave was my father. He ruled for over fifty years before I was born. That word that you asked me about, the one Lady Myren and Mornga call me, prognazoc, it means prince.” The blanket slips from my hands and I slide down the bed closer to him. Prince? Bazur is a prince?

“My family had seized the throne shortly after the Orc Wars had ended. But there was only chaos those first few years. My great-great grandfather during his rule cared more about relocating our people that he didn’t pay much attention to how the humans left in our territory were being treated. Humans had been living at the mercy of cruel and malicious orc lords for centuries until my father came to power.”

Bazur takes another deep breath, raking a shaking hand through his dark hair.

“As king, my father outlawed the keeping of human servants. Outlawed raiding human villages and taking captives. At first, everything was peaceful. My parents were mated a few years before I was born, and they finally felt like it was time to bring a child into this world. A world they were proud of.” He pauses and looks over to the wall again. A deep sadness fills the air, tugging on my heart, as I realize what’s coming next.

“But Vorgak decided to rebel. He had been working with some of the lords who were upset by the reforms and they devised a plan to ambush my father. They struck him down in his hall.

“It wasn’t a fair fight but our laws are simple. Kill the king, become the king. Vorgak killed my father with an arrow in his back like a coward and took his throne.”

“Bazur I—” I stop myself, what can I even say?

“Vorgak took my mother as his bride, declared me his son and successor to the throne. I was young enough then that Vorgak thought he could mold me into a male that stood against everything my father had fought so hard for. His final affront to my father’s memory.”

Bazur’s gaze turns back to me, his eyes are so open and honest, it steals my breath.

“My mother tried to hang on as best she could for me. But the death of a mate does something to you and…she couldn’t survive without my father. So, one day she went to the tallest room in the Keep, opened the windows and…”

He lets the sentence hang there and my chest tightens.

“Vorgak was the reason both my parents perished. And he allowed the raids to start happening again, allowed humans to be captured and taken. He would take to the scorched human towns, make me watch as they…took the humans they had caught there. What they did to the survivors, even as a youngling I knew it was wrong.”

While Bazur recalls his history, I remember the sights and smells of my own scorched village. To know Vorgak was the reason…

“When I was sixteen, I realized I could do something. I had grown much larger than the other males my age. Faster and stronger, too, and better at fighting than even some of the most experienced soldiers. I had so much anger inside of me that I channeled it into becoming the best soldier and eventually a general, one who would fight for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves. I fought Vorgak’s battles so he’d let me claim Black Claw Village as my own. The orcs I fought were causing problems for Vorgak. Orcs who would’ve gladly supported my claim to the throne; but Vorgak had me put them down or else he’d invade this village. I killed my own supporters, all to keep this village protected.

“It is our agreement. I protect him from being overthrown and he leaves my village alone and stops raiding human towns.”

My stomach turns and I feel sick. The horrors Bazur has had to inflict on his own people just to keep this place safe. Bazur takes a deep breath. There’s so much I want to say but nothing comes out.

“I’m not telling you all of this so you’ll forgive me. As much as I want you to, I know there’s a real possibility that you won’t. And I have to live with that. But knowing I made you cry, that I hurt you like that, Kaethe…” he shudders. “I’m telling you this to show you I do trust you. That’s everything, all my secrets laid out. You are safe here, and when the time comes, I will personally escort you back to Myrkorvin.

“And I want you to know I would never report your movements here to Vorgak; I’d rather drive a blade through my heart than betray you. That day at the Keep, I didn’t volunteer to take you in solely because you could help my people. I wanted to—no, I needed—you with me, so I could make sure you were safe. Just thinking of you in the hands of someone else…”

I shudder at the memory of the orc who had been eyeing me like his next meal. He really did save me. When I think about what could’ve happened to me if he hadn’t found me, my stomach turns.

“Even when I did consider you a spy, I figured maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you told your king about us. I started wondering if he could be persuaded to aid in my cause and keep this place free. Maybe even help free the humans trapped in the other villages.”

My breath catches. That was my plan, before everything blew up. Maybe it can still work with Bazur’s help. Together we can put a stop to Vorgak and make him suffer the pain that he’s caused here.

“I’m not a spy,” I say simply.

“I know,” Bazur replies, a ghost of a smile gracing his green lips. “Even if you were, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?” About me, I want to add. Something in my chest is knitting back together, warm and strong and permanent.

Bazur shakes his head. “Right now I feel…confused, angry at myself. Scared.”

His eyes glow in the dim light only making the sensation in my chest spread lower, warming my stomach, and turning my feminine flesh soft and slippery.

Is his fear the same as mine?

“But mostly I feel grateful that you’re still here.” My cheeks heat and I look away from him.

“Do you want to be king?” I ask.

“I’ve never wanted to rule over anyone. But Vorgak is growing restless and pretty soon he’s going to leave us no choice but to act. My soldiers and I are preparing in case that time comes sooner than we anticipated.” His honey eyes find mine, so serious and full of resolve. “I have my people to protect but now I have you to protect too. I won’t let you get caught up in any of this.”

My throat clogs with emotion and I only nod my head as we stare at each other. The silence between us is heavy. What he’s shared with me—the things he’s gone through. He’s broken in the same ways I am. Sure, his edges may be a little sharper than mine but with time he’ll be able to smooth them out.

We can work on smoothing them out together.

“Thank you for telling me all of that,” I say softly. A part of me screams at my body to go to him where he’s huddled at the end of the bed. Turns out he didn’t kill what was between us. I feel it in my chest, stronger than it ever was before. I’m no longer upset by what he said, and I understand him now in a way I never could’ve imagined. He apologized and he meant it, I know it in my heart.

Yet, the last shred of my self-preservation keeps me from moving closer even though my soul is begging me to move closer and submit to this feeling completely.

“I’ll never speak to you like that. Ever again. I promise,” he vows.

“I know,” I say, letting my eyes rest on his handsome face. His large hands twist around the bag on his lap. I had completely forgotten about it until he sets it down gently in my lap.

“These are for you. I hope there’s enough of them.”

With a furrowed brow, I unzip the bag and dig my hand into it. The scent hits me immediately, so earthy and sweet. My fingers glide along silky petals. There must be fifty? No, a hundred…two hundred at least in this bag! I pull one out and let the light shine on it.

The magenta shade of a darksky rose glimmers in the dim light.

That melts the last of my resolve. I let out a squeal and set the bag aside, throwing myself into Bazur’s chest. He hesitates for only a moment before his arms envelop me. Pressed against him like this, I can feel his warm skin and I soak it in. I suck down lungfuls of his pine scent. His chest muscles meet my soft flesh, and I appreciate our bodies and their contrast to each other. I feel my nipples harden in my thin nightgown and press against his tough skin. The sensation is pleasant, very pleasant.

In fact, as his large hands trace up and down my spine, I get the same feeling I had at Myren’s. A rightness clicking into place. Locked in his arms like this, I feel small and delicate. Protected and cherished. I swallow my moan as his calloused hands continue exploring the planes of my back. The simple touches make my pussy turn wet and I squeeze my thighs together.

Even more moisture slicks out of me when Bazur lets out a groan of his own into the top of my head. Gods, can he smell my arousal? A smile tips my lips as I realize I wouldn’t mind him knowing. He murmurs something in my hair in his orc language and I pick up that word again, akorzag. Maybe I would be annoyed by it if he didn’t say it with such reverence. We stayed locked in our embrace for a long time. Not speaking, just enjoying each other’s warmth, breathing in each other’s scents.

After what feels like an eternity, we finally release each other.

Bazur rises from the bed and stretches his arms above his head with a yawn. It’s late and the sun will rise soon. I take the bag of flowers and set it on the floor beside my side of the bed. Footsteps sound as Bazur makes his way to the ladder, and I realize he intends to sleep on the bedroll on the lower level.

I don’t want him to sleep down there, I never want him down there again.

“Bazur,” I call, and he freezes. Pivoting slowly, he turns to look at me and I drag the blanket down on his side of the bed. I pat the open mattress next to me. He hesitates for a second and then shucks his boots. Then his fur lined coat. Finally, he removes his thin undershirt and my mouth goes dry. He hasn’t slept in the bed without his shirt on before.

The light licks the ridges of his stomach and I swear, somehow, he has more abs than the last time I saw him. I find myself a little unfocused as he crosses the room and slips under the blankets beside me.

I extinguish the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. The moon casts everything in a gentle glow and we both lay there, our hands awkward on top of the blankets, our bodies stiff, unsure of what the other is thinking. I wish his arms were still around me, so I can feel that warmth again, but for now, I’ll settle for proximity.

Lifting my hand, I slide it along the sheet and under Bazur’s. It’s much larger than mine and my fingers spread wide as they scrape along his callouses. I trace my thumb along the line of a scar on the back of his hand. Bazur shudders at the contact before giving my hand a gentle squeeze in return.

“Zarod didn’t lie,” Bazur rumbles at me. “I do like you.”

I thank the gods that he can’t see my grin in the dark room.