His words, said in his deep rumbling voice, resonated through my body with another spasm of ecstasy.
I struggled to breathe, choked by the emotions I couldn’t immediately name. There was an overwhelming sense of relief at no longer fearing for my life. I felt grateful to Grat for giving me a modicum of safety in this world filled with so much uncertainty and fear. And most of all, I was perplexed how an orc, practically a stranger, had shown me more kindness, patience, and support than any human in my life had.
Another shudder ran through me, only this one wasn’t caused by the orgasm but by a sob. I’d spent so much time gripped by fear, and only now, the tension finally eased, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. Tears rushed me, and I had no strength to hold them back.
Grat wrapped me into a tight hug. He didn’t ask me why I was crying, for which I was grateful. He simply held me while I broke to pieces in his arms.
“Hush, sweetheart,” he cooed soothingly, gently rocking me in his burly arms. “You’re safe now.”
Safe.
It was such a wonderful word. And in his arms, I finally understood the true meaning of it. With him, I truly felt safe.
“You have an awful lot of hair,” Grat stated, trying to undo my messy braid.
It proved a challenge to untangle the thick rope that my braid had become over the past weeks, but Grat carefully worked through it, strand by strand, separating them and combing through them with his fingers.
“I didn’t even know that your folks braided their hair,” he said.
“My folks?”
“The wild things,” he clarified.
“Oh, well…we do, I guess…” I mumbled, remembering that for Grat, I was an apewoman.
I had severely disappointed my parents by growing short in stature, with narrow hips, and a smaller chest. They would’ve far preferred a stately tall daughter with curves to attract any man they wished.
My long, thick, wavy black hair, however, had been my mother’s pride. When I was sixteen, the court poet composed a poem about it. My mother had it styled in luxurious waves draped over my shoulders for the portrait that she then sent out to all potential suitors.
Reizon had said that my hair was meant to showcase diamonds because it was dark like night and made the diamonds braided in it look like stars. Reizon was a handsome man with beautiful words and ugly actions. I realized it long ago and treated him accordingly. Unfortunately, that didn’t saveme from his attention because he believed a marriage with me would give him everything that he wanted.
Now, the bog orc in the woods thought I was “a wild thing”, a creature below him in every way, yet he treated me better than Reizon ever did, without asking for anything in return.
“Have you met any wild things before?” I asked, sitting with my back to Grat as he battled with my braid.
“No,” he said. “But my grandpa did.”
That was concerning if I wished to keep my disguise.
“Where is your grandfather?” I asked carefully.
“Dead. For seven years now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No need to be.” He shrugged. “Grandpa lived a long life and died like a true warrior, in battle.”
“In battle with the wild things?”
“No,” he chuckled. “We don’t go to wars with your kind. There is no honor in victories against animals—” he stopped abruptly.
I glanced over my shoulder at him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “That’s what my grandpa used to call your kind. He told stories about wild things coming to the Wetlands before I was born. They stole food from the keep, attacked our cattle, and dug through our gardens, like animals would do.”
Well, I stole his food too. I even growled at him when he tried to take it away from me. I had acted very much like an animal, no wonder he’d thought I was one.
“Grandpa never said that apemen could speak though,” he added.
