Page 29 of Scoring the Orc
She looks back at me, her eyes searching mine. “Why do you care?”
The question catches me off guard. Why do I care? I’ve been asking myself the same thing. “Maybe because you remind me of myself,” I admit, the words surprising even me.
She blinks, clearly taken aback. “You?”
I nod. “Yeah. Stubborn, defiant, unwilling to back down. We’re not so different, you and I.”
She considers this, her eyes thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right.”
The room falls into a comfortable silence again, the weight of our conversation hanging between us. I can see the wheels turning in her mind, the same questions I’ve been asking myself.
With the meal done, Emilia excuses herself from the table, her voice soft yet steady. "I'll take care of the dishes," she says, gathering the plates with practiced efficiency. I nod, watching her every movement.
As she walks toward the kitchen, I find myself rising from my seat, an inexplicable urge pulling me to follow her. The dining hall falls away, and I trail her silently, my footsteps almost ghostly as I approach the kitchen's threshold.
She doesn't notice me at first, busy with the task at hand. I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, simply observing. The way she moves is almost mesmerizing, each action deliberate and purposeful. She rolls up her sleeves, revealing slender, strong arms as she begins to scrub the plates.
The gentle clinking of dishes and the sound of running water fill the space, creating a strange sense of calm. I take in the scene, noting the small frown of concentration on her face, the way her brows knit together as she works. There's a quiet determination about her that I can't help but admire.
I don't try to humiliate her, although the thought does cross my mind. Instead, I just stand there, content to watch her. The kitchen, usually a place of chaos and noise, feels serene with her in it. She moves with grace, her presence transforming the mundane task into something almost... beautiful.
She glances up and startles slightly when she sees me. "You scared me," she says, a touch of admonishment in her voice.
"I didn't mean to," I reply, my tone softer than usual. "Just... watching."
She gives me a curious look but doesn't press further. As she continues to wash the dishes, I remain there, silently observing. For once, it's enough just to be near her, to share this quiet moment away from the chaos of the world outside.
With a pang, I realize this defiant girl, my slave, might be the closest thing I have to a true partner in my cold, empty home. It’s a disconcerting thought, but it’s there, lingering in the back of my mind. The more time I spend with Emilia, the more I’m drawn to her resilience and spirit. She’s not just a distraction; she’s becoming something... more.
19
EMILIA
“What a weird day,” I muse as I lean back in the bath. The water is warm, washing over my skin, and I close my eyes. As usual, my mind drifts to Jurto.
All day, he was there wherever I turned. He was mostly just watching me, his presence always demanding, but it was different. I almost found it comforting for him to be there. He may be unpredictable and harsh – sometimes even cruel – but for some reason, I like being around this orc. I’m not just attracted to him and the way he wrings pleasure from my body. I want to be around him.
I’m almost shocked he’s not in here right now.
A bang slams against the outside of the locked door, and I jolt upward. “What–”
“Emilia!”
As if summoned by my thoughts, Jurto is outside the bathroom door. “I’m bathing!” My hands immediately come up to cover my body even though there is still a door between us.
A chuckle rumbles through the door as the lock groans. “And?” The metal finally breaks, and he shoves his way inside, looking even larger in the small servants’ bathroom. A louder laugh erupts him as I scramble to hide myself. “You act as if I haven’t seen your body naked before.”
“Jurto, get out! I need some privacy!” I demand, my voice shaking with anger and something else I can’t quite place.
He laughs again, a deep, resonant sound that fills the room. “Privacy? You’re mine, Emilia. There’s no need for modesty with me.” He steps closer, his eyes raking over my body with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.
“Jurto, please,” I say, my voice softer now, almost pleading. But he’s already undressing, stripping away his clothes with a casual ease that leaves me breathless.
“You don’t need to hide from me,” he says, his voice a low growl. “I’ve seen every inch of you, and I want to see it again.” He steps into the bath, the water sloshing around us as he settles in behind me.
His presence is overwhelming, and I find myself leaning back against him despite my protests. His hands come to rest on my shoulders, and I shiver at the contact.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”