Chapter 1
The blade of her zweihänder clashed with the bandit’s longsword. She felt the vibration in her powerful arms and how the steel of the other blade nearly shattered under the pressure. The corpses of his two companions lay in the dust of the road. Slit open, split in two, like logs of wood.
The bloodlust pulsed in Vharah’s veins. It was one of the many reasons why her people were considered primitive and impulsive, yet she had merely been defending herself. It was as simple as that. Her horse had fled when the men ambushed her. They probably thought they could easily overpower a single orc woman. But Vharah was one of the strongest warriors of her people, and she was a mercenary.
The burly man put up a proper fight, and she liked the wild glint in his eyes, the harshness of his bearded face. He was almost as tall as she was, which was remarkable for a human. But she was still stronger. With a rough grunt, she shoved him into the dust, pressed her advantage as he lay on the ground, and knocked the sword from his hand. Stepping back, she aimed the bloody tip of her zweihänder directly at his face.
“Who sent you?”
Her voice was dark and rough, yet gentle all at once. Her light-green eyes locked onto him while the mild summer wind mixed the metallic scent of blood with the stench of the fields and the fragrance of wild flowers.
“N... no one. I swear it!”
He swallowed hard, his eyes darting between the blade and her face. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“We just needed gold. We haven’t had a solid meal in days,” he confessed, and his words sounded genuine. People like him never thought to earn their gold through honest work; they shrank from it like a cat shies away from water. She sighed with boredom. She had heard enough of such stories. Her blade drifted lower and lower until it reached his crotch. There, the steel traced the contours of his manhood, and a faint smirk brushed across her lips.
“We orcs aren’t all cruel beasts, you know? We can be passionate, too.”
The man on the ground stared at her in astonishment. Innerly, he had already made his peace with death. Now a spark of hope flared up inside him—but what was the price?
“W... what do you mean?” he stammered on. The tip of the blade still rested dangerously against his crotch. Demonstratively, she dragged it across the leather.
“What do you think, numbskull? I want you to fuck me, as hard as your human cock can manage. But first: empty your pockets!” she commanded. Among her people, only the strongest males were considered for mating, even if it was just for fun. The sweat on her body and her rising arousal made it clear enough that this man was worthy.
His gaze roamed over her body. Despite her wiry muscles, her figure possessed feminine curves beneath the medium-heavy fur armor reinforced with steel plates. Her legs were long and sinewy, and her leaf-green skin looked exotic. A surge of arousal mingled with his fear.
He didn’t answer, merely emptying his pockets. A coin purse and a small dagger landed in the dirt. She kicked the dagger away with the tip of her boot.
“Keep your gold, I don’t want it. Now get up!”
She slowly withdrew her sword and slid it into the leather scabbard on her back. He stuffed the coin purse back into his pocket and stood up, brushing the dust from his clothes while casting a fleeting glance at his two dead companions, whose skin was already growing paler. He swallowed hard.
“I’ve never laid with an orc woman before. What’s your name?”
“Vharah. Now come...” she growled, leading the way. A few meters from the road lay a small patch of woodland. Vharah’s massive frame had to push through the trees, snapping off branches whenever her sheathed blade caught on them. Once they had ventured deep enough into the thicket, she turned around to face him.
“You do realize that your survival depends on how good you are?”
He gave a deep nod and let his gaze drift over her body once more.
“I won’t disappoint you!” he declared. She stepped closer. He was tall, but she still towered over him by half a head. He felt her hot breath on his skin before her strong hand grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
As their tongues clashed, a memory of her homeland in the mountains flashed through her mind. It was this exact untamed wildness that had cost her everything. The son of her old chief had believed he could simply take her. She had only defended herself, breaking his arm in front of the entire clan and stomping his manhood into the dust. But there was no justice for a simple warrior. The chief’s son’s shame was reframed as high treason on Vharah’s part. They had cast her out, hunted her like an animal, unable to endure her superior strength.
The pointed tusks protruding slightly from the corners of her mouth scraped against his face, yet it aroused him all the same. So did her distinctive, animalistic scent, which carried a subtle, sweet feminine undertone.
Vharah simply needed the heat of battle to get into the mood. It got her juices flowing. She pressed his body against the rough bark of a tree. Her large hand grabbed forcefully into his crotch, and what she felt there brought the smirk back to her face.
His breath hitched hot, and his rough hands slipped beneath the fur covering her rear, gripping and kneading the firm flesh. It was hot and raw. She unbuckled the bulky weapon from her back and let it drop into the grass. The pine scent of the forest and the fine musk of the man filled her nostrils.
