Page 32 of ORC’d By the Emperor

He is enormous. Easily eight feet. Maybe nine. I have to crank my head all the way back just to see his face.

His very angry face.

Gone is the gentle and considerate Orc he pretended to be yesterday. He’s now wearing an expression that I can imagine was the last thing many of his Middle Realm enemies saw before he ended their lives.

“Oh, hi, Ivar. What are you doing here?” I choke out, trying to keep my voice casual.

His eyes slit. “Petitioning the Mother Goddess for the healthy birth of our first of many ogres.”

He places a hand on each side of my head and hunches down to look me straight in the eye, which is somehow even more intimidating than when I was having to crank my entire head back to look up at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Um…” I wince. “Petitioning the Mother Goddess…?”

He stares at me for a long, murderous beat. “You were attempting to leave me.”

I lift my chin defensively. “More like returning to the world where I belong—where I have a life and goals outside of becoming your brood mare for the next couple of centuries!”

He tilts his head to the side. “Are you aware the seed that has taken root inside of you will cease to exist if you go through that portal? Along with the ring I gave you when we exchanged our vows only last eve for lifelong mateship?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” I admit.

Something in my chest cracks at the thought of both the future ogre and the ring just blipping out of existence.

Though, technically, this is good news, I tell myself, while ignoring the ache in my chest.

Not having to figure out how to give birth to an ogre with VA health insurance is an even bigger reason to step through that portal back into the Lower Realm.

Also… “I didn’t ask for any of this!” Glaring up at him, I list off the many extreme things that have happened to me over the last day. “Getting snatched through that portal to a place I thought was purely a world of fiction until not even half a day ago? Having my good sense completely hijacked by your pheromones? And that bonkers wedding? That’s a whole sub-list of its own! No…”

I shake my head. “I didn’t ask for any of this… and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as your brood mare because I made one silly wish.”

His massive brow furrows. “Why do you keep referring to yourself as a farm animal when you are my Empress?”

He leans in closer, golden eyes searching my face. “Do you truly believe that is all you are to me? We are star-fated!”

My chest lurches. He honestly looks hurt.

But he’s only pretending, I remind myself. Because he wants his dynasty to endure.

“Why do you keep acting like you care about me?” I spit back.

“You believe I do not care about you?” Now he looks both confused and hurt.

Not real, not real, not real… I whisper to myself.

“I know…” Swallowing down the emotions clogging my throat, I inform him, “I know it’s impossible for you Orcs to feel desire for anything other than the blood of your enemies, gold, and, apparently, the extension of your dynasties.”

He tenses, then drops his hands from the wall. “Who told you this?”

“Grak,” I answer. “Are you saying he lied?”

I hate the kernel of hope that sprouts in my chest.

“No, Grak is my most honorable warrior.” With a heavy sigh, he begins unbuckling the fur-lined bracer on his right arm. “That is why I left him to oversee your protection. He would never lie—especially to his Empress.”

“So, it’s true?” My voice cracks, even though I already knew it was. Every instinct I have told me Grak wasn’t lying. That’s the whole reason I came to the mage cave: to end this farce.