HENRIA

Back in my room I find myself pacing. What is wrong with Rokhar? It's almost as if he has an aversion to touching me.

But, if that were true, what about the Claiming? He didn't seem to hold the same aversion last night. In fact, he seemed to take as much pleasure from me as I had him. Or at least it seemed that way. I think back to the sounds he made, the groans, the surprise and then pleasure in his eyes when I led him to the bed. When I kissed him. When I touched him for the first time.

Unless...unless I misunderstood things? It was my first time, after all. Maybe what I assumed was pleasure for him was nothing more than duty? Maybe what I experienced was not what he experienced.

Did I do something wrong?

Don't you dare think that way, Henria! Why should I care what a man who Claimed me like livestock and is now holding me captive thinks? It has no bearing at all whether he took the same pleasure from me as I did from him.

And maybe that's just the way it is, here. I know nothing of men, let alone orc men. And all the human women here, both older and newly arrived, seem content so perhaps it is a difference between orcs and women. But, truthfully, it doesn't matter and I don't care. I refuse to become complacent like those women.

I drop onto my bed, arms crossed, but realize I'm sitting on something. I pull it out from under me and find Luisa's bag. I never finished looking through it and I tear it open now, searching for something, anything, to take my mind off my righteous, yet stupid, anger.

I find a leather pouch in the bag and I pull it out, only to find a snagged piece of fabric tugging its way free as well. I set the leather pouch aside and hold up the fabric. Then I gasp.

It's lingerie. I think, anyway. I can't imagine what else it would be, not with all the lace and, well, skimpiness. There's fabric, yes, but less fabric than holes and gaps I assume that are meant to show skin.

I didn't think Luisa had it in her.

Then again, I don't know what kind of "training" she got as a Tribute.

This garment, though, is very obviously designed with seduction in mind. The only other clothing I've ever seen like this was many years ago in my cousin's wedding chest. Luisa and I snuck in and looked through her things, giggling in shock at what we discovered.

How does one even wear something like this? I hold it up against my body, trying to figure it out.

Well, I guess there's only one way to find out.

I slip off my dress and then work to put on the garment. And work is an understatement. There are straps that twist and fold in incomprehensible ways. Even once I've dressed myself in the manner that I think is correct, there are still a couple of loose straps beneath the lace around my legs that leave me baffled. Finally, I just let them hang, assuming they serve a purpose I'm still too naive to understand.

Dressed once more, I head over to the mirror. I fully expect to find myself embarrassed, or at least bemused by my ridiculous get-up. Luisa and I had nearly died laughing trying to imagine the purpose of lingerie like this.

But as I stand in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, I see no traces of the buttoned-up princess I've been my entire life. Instead I see Henria, stripped down to something... sexy. Powerful, even. Is that the point of lingerie? My cousin had waved off our questions by saying that the outfit was to please her husband. But maybe she had it backward. Maybe lingerie is for women after all, to give them the power they so often lack.

I recall something I heard my cousin say to a friend once, something that suddenly rang true: the easiest way to control a husband is by his rod.

At the time I was scandalized. I barely understood what she meant. I knew that men had rods, shafts, but I didn't know it was something that, well, women had anything to do with. And how could a woman control a man through his rod? It made no sense to me.

But now, staring at myself in the mirror, wearing this outfit, knowing things I didn't know before, I was beginning to understand.

The way to control Rokhar is through his rod.

If I can seduce him, gain his trust and get him to drop his guard, it will be that much easier to sneak away from him when the time is right.

Don't think, Henria. Do.

I grab a robe from Luisa's bag and wrap it around my body before opening the door. My guards seem surprised to see me.

"Bring me to my husband."

They exchange looks that I can't quite read, but they don't deny my request. The two escort me down the hall back to Rokhar's room. My heart is practically beating out of my chest. A sign that I'm excited to be set my escape plan into motion, nothing more.

The guard knocks on the door and it almost immediately flies open. Rokhar stands in the doorway, rage twisted across his face. I flinch, taking a step back.

"I gave orders to not be disturbed," he growls at the guard, his voice low and furious.

His body looms across the entire doorway, radiating hostility. He's powerful, intimidating, terrifying. And here I thought I would be the one in control. My little plan, which felt so bold just moments ago, instantly feels childish. How could I ever think I'd be able to control a man such as this? He's like a force of nature.

"I'm sorry." My voice is so quiet I'm not sure he's even heard me.

But then he drops his gaze and seems to take in my presence for the first time. "What are you doing here?"

The words are not exactly kind. Though he's lost some of the fierceness he expressed a moment before, he seems genuinely baffled as to what I could want from him. His eyes are cold as he stares down at me.

I'm so foolish. I thought I could manipulate Rokhar, bend him to my will, but standing before him now, looking up at his steely face, the thought seems laughable.

I feel tears come to my eyes and dig my fingernails into my palms, trying to force myself to stop. As always, it doesn't work. I've always cried when I get too angry, or sad, or frustrated. I hate it. It makes me feel weak, and I don't need the reminder right now.

I realize Rokhar is waiting for an answer and shake my head, not knowing what to say to him. I wish I'd never had this idea in the first place.

Rokhar's eyes don't leave my face, and finally he turns to the guards. "Leave us."

They do as he says and he escorts me back into his chambers. I'm sure he will question me, ask me what I am doing, why I'm crying. But, surprisingly, he doesn't. Instead he stands quietly, politely, allowing me to collect myself.

I am grateful for the space to regain my composure. I can feel his eyes on me, though, and I avoid his gaze as it disconcerts me. Instead, I glance around the room. I see papers and maps strewn across a table. It's clear he was in the middle of something important and I interrupted.

Finally, I take a deep breath and look up at him. He is still watching me, and I cannot interpret the intense expression in his eyes.

He takes a step closer. "Henria, is something wrong?"

The bluntness of the question is both shocking and refreshing. There's something like concern in his voice and it emboldens me enough that I steel myself. I've set this plan in motion, so I might as well see it through.

I drop the robe, then meet his eyes. I give him my best seductive smile, or at least what I hope is a seductive smile. "Is it wrong for a wife to want to spend the night with her husband?"

His eyes widen in shock. I've caught him by surprise. And then they darken and focus on me once more, the lust unmistakable. I hold his gaze and swallow, my throat suddenly dry. He finally scans my body to fully take in what I'm wearing and his hands twitch at his side, almost as if he wants to reach out and grab me. But he stops himself.

His voice is low, husky. "It is dangerous to toy with me."

A thrill of excitement shoots through my whole body. It's working. My plan is working. It's obvious he wants me and I've done barely anything at all. I feel powerful. Could it really be this easy? I just need to press harder.

I reach out and touch his chest, spreading my fingers across the hardness of his muscles. He growls again, but it's different from the one he gave the guards. This is deeper, a low rumble that I feel more than hear. But he still doesn't move to touch me.

"Rokhar..." I make my voice quiet, almost meek. Not quite begging, but definitely asking.

"Henria..." he pauses, swallows. "I would never take you the night after the Claiming. I know you must be sore."

I still, my thoughts racing. Is that why he refused to touch me, had been so distant at dinner? Out of respect for me?

My hands tumble away from him as I meet his eyes and realize it's true. There's a warmth building in my chest and I realize that I'm touched by his concern for me and my welfare. Lost in his glittering eyes, before I can think, before I can stop myself, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.

Though I didn't mean it to, not really, the kiss seems to finally break Rokhar's resolve. He growls once more and scoops me into his arms before striding over to the bed. He practically throws me down onto the soft furs and blankets, and then pins me down, possessively.

I gulp, unsure if I'm frightened or excited or something else...

He stares at me for a long moment, then drops lower before yanking some of the mysterious straps out of the way. I prepare myself for what I'm sure is about to happen only for him to press his mouth between my legs.

I gasp. "Rokhar, what are you—"

And then my voice is whisked away by the shocking pleasure of his tongue on my most sensitive area.

He lets it rasp along me, slowly at first, before pausing at the very top. His tongue circles there at a spot that almost makes me scream with sensation.

Then he begins to suck, using his tusks to keep my legs apart because all I want to do is clench him between my legs. My body starts to shake and I writhe in pleasure, but still Rokhar doesn't stop. He sucks and licks and rubs his mouth up and down every part of me. I'm panting, trying to catch my breath, and for a brief moment I think I might stop breathing altogether.

"Wait," I manage to gasp out. But he doesn't listen, just flicks his tongue even faster. I reach down, grab his hair in my hands. "Rokhar!"

And then that wave, that eruption of pleasure bursts from me and I hear a scream of pleasure that I barely recognize as my own voice. I stay there, on the top of this wave as it crashes through me over and over again until finally it recedes.

I pant rapidly, trying to catch my breath, and a moment later Rokhar pulls his face free from me.

My head is spinning. I never knew this was a thing men did to women. Maybe they don't, in our kingdom. I've certainly never heard of anything like this in all the palace gossip. I close my eyes, my breath still rapid but slowing now.

I feel the bed shift beneath me and open my eyes to see Rokhar adjusting his position next to me. He looks well-pleased, though I don't know why. I'm too exhausted to try and figure it out, though, and close my eyes once more.

When I next open them, the room is filled with darkness. I've fallen asleep again. It seems to be a new habit of mine. I shift in the bed and hear a small snore. Turning, I find Rokhar asleep next to me.

He is peaceful in his sleep, relaxed. I study his face in the moonlight. He has a strong jaw, a straight nose. His eyelashes are surprisingly full and long and I'm sure many women would envy him for them. A strand of his dark hair is draped across his face and before I think of what I'm doing I brush it aside, careful not to wake him.

Rokhar is incredibly handsome. More than any human man I'd ever seen. How had I not noticed it immediately? And not only that, he's been nothing but gentle with me. We're told over and over again that orcs are beasts who can rip a human in two with their bare hands. But what Rokhar just did to me in this bed...that wasn't the work of a beast. Not remotely.

I close my eyes once more, still tired. But as I drift off Lettie's words ring in my ears: how I can be happy here, if I allow myself.

That can't possibly be true...can it?