By My Side ... (A Valentine's Day Story) (7 page)

Some of her emotion must have
been evident on her face, for when he caught her gaze she saw the
gentle mockery, the amusement in their yellow depth. He
straightened and the play of muscles over a chest still bare chased
away any fleeting perception of vulnerability.

"What do you say to your new
home?"

His words made her aware of her
surroundings -- and the sudden, unnatural stillness. They had come
to halt in what appeared to be a courtyard, surrounded on three
sides by high buildings. On every window, every walkway, along the
wall across the gate, crowding the parapet, there stood orcs,
silent and unmoving. And all of them stared at her. Orcs of every
possible shape and persuasion -- women, children, men. So many. Old
and young, healthy and maimed. They stood frozen in whatever they
had been doing, their faces turned to her. Wherever Elena looked
her eyes met the intent, yellow stare of an orc.

She had swallowed hard, trying
to dislodge the lump forming in her throat. Somehow, over the last
nine days of travel, she had become accustomed to her little band,
their strangeness having lost its fearful aspects. They had simply
become companions in their combined struggle against nature,
admirable in their endurance and strength, comforting in their
presence. This, now, was an entirely different proposition.

Under the scrutiny of hundreds
of eyes, in the face of so many strange orcs, Elena suddenly became
aware of what these beings were, in a way she had forgotten over
their journey. They were beings of violence, their fingers tipped
with retractable claws, their hands able to rend a body limb from
limb and their diet rumoured to contain human flesh as a
preference.

It was pure instinct, and a
stupid one at that, had she thought of it, which made her take a
step close to Reschkar. But his presence had now become interwoven
intimately with her perception of safety. Before her mind could
remember that he was just as much orc as anyone else here, he
pulled her in, cradled the back of her head and fitted her against
his side with gentle pressure.

"Safe, girl -- whatever else
will happen, you are safe here."

And just for that moment she
let his words calm her nerves, no matter how false they might turn
out to be.

The remainder of the morning
was nothing more than a blur to her. She remembered, in a vague
way, that he had handed her over to two female orcs who had led her
inside. In the room she had found herself in, she had barely had
the time to take in the large bed, its frame hewn from rough wood,
the bark still clinging to the slats, before a large tin bath
appeared. Litres upon litres of blessedly hot water filled the
large tub, steam rising with the scent of pine oil, the mere
presence of the possibility of a bath making her feel better. She
felt grubby. Well, she felt more than grubby -- she had left
grubbiness behind on the second day, having long since reached the
state of outright filth. In that split second a bath had become the
most essential need, a need the future promised to sate.

The hot water had seeped the
last strength from her bones, her exhaustion fogging her thoughts.
Unable to even eat, so tired was she, Elena had crawled into the
heavy pelts covering the bed with the firm intention to sleep until
the end of the world, or someone woke her, whatever might come
first. Fear and trepidation had not had enough power to keep her
from the grips of exhaustion.

Still, she had not been able to
fall asleep, her restless mind whirling, searching for something.
She did not want to admit, even to herself, that it was Reschkar's
absence which kept her awake. It frightened her. It made no sense.
In all probability, he would end up killing her, out of intent or
accident, but her irrational mind insisted that in his presence,
she would be safe. In the end, it had been the faint scent of pine
and clear air remaining on the pelts which had let her settle into
dreams.

Just to wake now to his gaze
upon her. Elena looked at him, sitting there, and she saw a
different orc, a different being from the one she had known. She
saw not the companion of nine days hard travel, the bulwark against
any threat, but the man who held her life in his hands, whose every
decision could mean pain or degradation, even death. Fear was a
heavy weight in her stomach.

It was time. They had reached
their destination. He had recovered from their travels, as had she,
at least as much as she ever would. There was no reason to wait
anymore, no reason for him not to make use of the prize he had
brought with him. With every silent second that passed her muscles
tensed a little further, the anxiety in her stomach rising,
strangling her. Long since had she lost the languid heaviness of
sleep, leaving only trepidation.

It was a familiar feeling --
too familiar. This veiled vigilance a well-known coat settling in
place over her mind. Elena realised that the sense of perpetual
watchfulness, which was an integral part of her life, had been
missing over the last few days. On the road, all her attention had
been concentrated on simply holding on, all worries, even the need
to pre-empt threats, had been discarded in the peculiar trust that
to keep her safe, to keep them all safe, was Reschkar's
responsibility, nor hers. But they were not on the road anymore and
now he was the largest threat in her life. Elena saw that self same
realisation in his eyes.

"Get up."

His voice was still as melodic
and deep as it had been on that first night. She could have
luxuriated in the sound, the tone. Before, she would never have
thought a voice such as this would belong to an orc, now she could
not imagine him with another. It reached into her mind, stroked
over her senses, turned her knees into jelly and made her want to
please him.

She hated that voice, hated it
because it was deceptive and so hard to resist. When she scrambled
from underneath the pelts her movements were stiff and careful, her
own body feeling ungainly, as if made of matchsticks. Her mind
reached for her usual detachment, the distance she had learnt to
wrap around herself when life among the courts became too
confusing, too difficult to bear. The disassociation technique
escaped her and she was left facing reality without her familiar
escape route.

Elena felt his eyes cataloguing
each of her movements, not even the smallest change in her body
escaping his notice. It seemed to be how he approached everything,
his eyes taking note of the smallest change, his brain rearranging
the world with the new information every second. It was like
watching a normal human's, or supernatural's brain, in extreme --
and knowing that there was nothing you could hide from him.

"Can you smell my
emotions?"

The question was out before she
had considered the implications of asking it. He frowned at her,
not in anger but as if he had to think about the answer. When he
spoke there was hesitation in his voice.

"Yes, but by that time your
body has already told me what I need to know."

The hesitation was not of
someone trying to hide the truth, just someone taking a question
serious enough to give it due consideration. Another characteristic
of everything in this man, this deliberate air surrounding all his
actions. That intent deliberation was one of the most overwhelming,
and frightening, aspects of this being. Nothing escaped him,
nothing was random, all a part of a strategic plan she had no way
to understand. Coupled with his answer, the fact that he saw and
smelled her emotions, it was devastating -- and gave her faith in
the future.

When all was said and done, was
there a chance, even a small one, he would manage to bond her where
all others had failed? It was hard not to let that little flower of
hope grow, not to contemplate a future in which she could live as
an ErGer, not just a burden. He appeared near omnipotent to her in
that moment, it seemed almost impossible to consider his failure at
anything he set his mind to -- even a bonding everyone else had
long since abandoned. It was a dream, a fantasy. Her lips stretched
in a tentative smile, one which died fast. He was an orc, a being
who was bred for physical power, their race kept weak and
vulnerable when it came to mental control. How could this physical
being succeed where those with unparalleled mental powers had
failed?

Reality was such an ugly
animal. There would not be a dream. No, he would try to bond her
until Valentine's day, three weeks hence, and then, if not this
year then the next or the one after, give up and take the solace
her blood could give. In the beginning, a few drops in their food
would be enough to give his court the same benefits as a bond to
her would -- but it would not last. Soon they would need a few
sips, then a cupful. Her blood, as any ErGer's was addictive, but
if he was careful, and everything she had learnt of him said he was
a very cautious man, he would be able to stretch the benefits of
her blood over a few years before the strain of it would kill
her.

Somehow, though it mean her
death, that thought was comforting. She would finally be good for
something -- and then, in the end, it would at least be over, this
life of constant failure. And it would be worth something. She
would have protected her family and, possibly, given these people a
chance they had never been granted by the Courts, a chance to build
a nation, a race, away from slavery, infighting and subjugation.
She might be able to give them a future with her slow death. This
was what she had been aiming for. The memory of her goal settled
her enough to be able to meet his thoughtful gaze.

"Go. I will be waiting here
when you return."

She was startled, unsure what
he meant with this. Her eyes followed his gaze and she realised he
was pointing to the door across the room, the door to the little
bathing chamber. He had let her think and he had seen when she had
settled, only then had he disturbed her.

Elena rose to make use of the
amenities in the little room. It was an unexpected luxury in this
godforsaken place. Few human dwellings so far away would be able to
sport a separate, indoor bathing chamber. One private to the Lord's
chambers was more than simple convenience, it was outright
decadent. Elena made use of the chamber pot, washed quickly and
availed herself of the toothbrush she had been provided with more
than ten hours ago, before she had fallen into bed.

It took courage to return to
him, to open the door to the bedroom, and cross the room under the
intent weight of his eyes. His gaze was a touch, not hot but heavy,
ropes tightening around her, pulling her closer with each step. He
had sat back in the heavy oak chair, his muscular arms resting on
the armrests, his legs splayed in a parody of relaxation; and on
the floor before him, pooled a pile of furs from the bed. She knew
what he wanted, could have told him there was no point. The games
of Dominance and submission had been played with her too often, too
thoroughly and not once had they been able to break open her mind
to allow for a bonding to occur.

Though before she could slide
to her knees before him, he stopped her with a raised finger.

"Take off the shirt."

Of course. She was wearing what
she suspected was a shirt originally made for him, its folds
falling almost to her knees. Elena had found the garment besides
the tin bath the previous night and had seen no reason not to take
it for her own use. The fabric had been soft and surprisingly
luxurious against her skin, his scent of pine forest and clear air
interwoven in its very strands. It was the scent of his skin, one
she had become intimately familiar with. It had surprised her. If
the last few days, and his penchant for facing even a snowstorm
with a bare torso, were any indication, then this orc did not avail
himself of shirts often.

Now it seemed as if he would
not allow her the protection of the garment either. She understood
why, knew he was merely increasing her vulnerability in an attempt
to weaken her defences. She could have told him this was a futile
measure as well. If empirical evidence was any indication then it
would not work, never had worked before.

Though, why was it then so hard
to pull the soft fabric over her head, the glide of the wool on her
skin a reminder how exposed she would be. No matter how many people
had seen her bare, touched her naked body in the fool's errand to
bond her, with him it was somehow worse. Not because he was an orc
but because, for the first time, a man saw her, not only what she
stood for. She had seen that in his eyes every day, never hidden,
never disguised, that simple desire of a man for a woman.

When her head cleared the
fabric she saw the smile tugging at his mouth and the softness in
his eyes. He knew how hard it was for her to take step, to bare
herself to him-- knew it and, worse, enjoyed her discomfort, her
vulnerability. As the shirt slipped from her boneless fingers, the
satisfaction, the softness in those predator eyes were joined by
blazing heat. He held her gaze, let her become aware of all he
felt, told her with one look how much he revelled in her unease.
There was no doubt he wanted her at his mercy and would savour
every second of it. When her knees bent to let her slide to the
floor he did not stop her anymore. She was glad, unsure if her
muscles would have held her up for much longer.

It was automatic for her to
assume the position of submission, to arrange her body in the
familiar posture. Her long legs folded underneath her, thighs
parted more than was demure, the curve of her ass touching her cold
heels. Her palms rested open on her thighs, her back straight, her
head lowered in automatic supplication. The floor was soft under
her knees, the thick pelts shielding her from the smooth ice of the
stone floor. The warm air of the room caressed her skin with the
slightest breeze. She knew this position, had spent many hours in
it over the course of her adulthood. At times, she had alternately
hated and been indifferent to the emotions, the sensations, created
by the symbol of submission -- but she had never been content in
it. Here, with everything new, everything different and confusing,
she suddenly calmed in its familiarity.