Page 12 of Alien Orc's Prize
I bucked and kicked, trying to slither off his lap so I could stand up and attempt this all again, preferably without looking like an idiot this time, but it was no use. The beautiful fucking dress was wrapped around me like a shiny, vengeful serpent. The kind that squeezed their prey to death. I gave one last wriggle then went slack, sagging with sudden, obliterating exhaustion. I hadn’t really had a chance to recover from the journey and whatever they’d used to knock me out on the shuttle. All at once, it became too much to move.
Something else moved, though. Something in the vicinity of Prince Gal’s crotch. It stiffened and twitched against my side. Heat exploded in my cheeks and, unexpectedly, between my legs. Prince Gal’s huge hand came to rest briefly on my lower back. Not quite a caress. Just the tiny exertion of pressure, as if he wanted to keep me there but then thought better of it. His hand moved away, only to grip one side of my waist, his otherhand doing the same on my other side. As easily as he’d be able to manhandle a doll, he lifted me in the air, gave me a merciless little shake to let my skirts unwrap, then set me down upon his left knee.
He kept his left hand on my waist as he released me with his right. During the commotion, his drink had apparently already been replaced and the spill mopped up.
“Sorry,” I said, red-cheeked, lobbing the apology out into the air. I wasn’t exactly sure who it was aimed at. Partly Noona, for almost dousing her with her brother’s drink. And partly the orc servant or butler or whatever he was who’d probably been the one to clean it up.
“You don’t need to apologize to my sisters or to Ulreth,” Prince Gal admonished. He leaned forward, sealing his front briefly to my back as he retrieved his fresh drink. “You’re the high princess now.”
“High princess or not, I always think it’s best to apologize when I’ve made a mistake or done something wrong,” I told him. “Don’t you?”
I turned my head to look back at him. His black brows were low over his eyes, eyes that now searched my face for meaning as if I’d said something in a completely different language. Which, to be fair, I had. But we all had translators. So he must have understood me at least in a literal sense.
This is a man who isn’t used to saying sorry. To anyone.
He was a prince, I supposed. He was used to everyone jumping to obey his orders. And some of it may have been related to orc culture, too. He’d also seemed surprised when I’d said sorry about the death of his mother’s friend.
He hadn’t yet answered my question, and he was still looking at me like he was trying to use his eyes as drills to bore right through my face and into my brain, so I cleared my throat and faced forward just in time to see Ulreth placing my plate downbeside Prince Gal’s. He then served me what looked like some sort of roast meat with honest-to-goodness vegetables. I mean, I assumed they were vegetables, anyway. They were colourful and plant-like and made my mouth water just to look at them. Ulreth filled Prince Gal and his sisters’ plates, too, then sliced into a big, fragrant ball of…
“Is that bread?” I gasped, leaning forward on Prince Gal’s knee to get a better look at what Ulreth was doing.
“Of course. It’s a staple. Humans don’t have bread?” He asked it like such a thing was inconceivable.
“Some humans do. The rich ones,” I said, my eyes glued to Ulreth’s slicing motion. “Most of us on ships just eat processed nutri-packs.”
“So you’ve never eaten bread before?”
I shook my head.
“Never.”
Prince Gal leaned forward again. I tensed, feeling the broad, hot wall of his front connect with my back once more. His hand was still on my waist, huge, encompassing, and searing with heat through my dress.
With his free hand, Prince Gal plucked a slice of bread from Ulreth’s tray. I gaped at the exquisite fluffiness of the soft inside bit. It would be like biting into a warm, golden cloud.
Prince Gal held the slice up in front of my face.
“Try it.”
He didn’t let go or give me the bread. Just left it dangling there in front of me while my stomach contracted with hunger.
Fuck me. I really wanted to try the bread.
Oh, well. I’d already decided I didn’t have any room for pride here. I tilted forward and caught part of the bread between my teeth.
I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me. My eyes fluttered closed as I started to chew the crunchy-fluffy-doughy-salty-sweet miracle that was Orhalla bread.
When it came time to swallow, I almost didn’t want to. I didn’t want this moment to end, despite the fact that I knew there were more slices waiting for me if I asked for them.
But, eventually, it got to the point where I was just masticating bread-sludge. So I swallowed and opened my eyes.
Prince Gal was staring at me once again, this time his expression so contorted with tension I almost leaped right off of his lap in shock. He looked… Notangry, exactly. But thunderous. Potent. Dangerous.
His ferocious eyes were locked on my mouth, as if my lips had done him some grave injustice that he wanted to punish them for. The fingers of his left hand dug into my side. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. His right hand remained aloft, holding the rest of the slice of bread, floating and forgotten.
I took a deep breath.
Then raised my hand and flicked him on the forehead. Right between the eyes.