Page 11 of Caged By the Orc

"You had a little..." I start, then freeze as I realize what I've done. My hand hovers in the air between us, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

To my shock, Sarod bursts out laughing. It's a deep, rumbling sound that I've never heard before, like distant thunder rolling across the sky. I can't help it – I start giggling too, the tension between us dissolving into unexpected mirth.

"You're the strangest creature I've ever seen," he says, shaking his head. His amber eyes dance with amusement, and I find myself captivated by the sight.

For a moment, I see a different side of him. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his tusks less menacing when he smiles. It's... surprisingly charming. I feel a flutter in my chest, a sensation I quickly try to squash. But as our laughter fades, I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between us, ever so slightly.

Confusion sets in quickly. I'm not supposed to find him charming. He's my captor, my tormentor. But in this moment, he seems almost human. The laughter has softened his features, making him look younger, more approachable. It's disconcerting how quickly my perception of him can shift.

"I... should get back to work," I mumble, stepping away. My cheeks feel warm, and I'm not sure if it's from the laughter or something else entirely.

Sarod's smile falters, replaced by his usual stern expression. "Yes, you should." There's a hint of regret in his voice, as if he too is reluctant to break this unexpected moment of levity.

As I resume sweeping, my mind races. What was that? Why did my heart skip a beat when he laughed? I shouldn't like him,not even a little. But that glimpse of warmth, that moment of shared humor... it's stirred something in me I can't quite name. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my thoughts keep drifting back to the sound of his laughter, the crinkle of his eyes.

It's dangerous territory, and I know I should stay far away from it. Yet, a part of me can't help but wonder what other sides of Sarod I've yet to see.

9

SAROD

Istand in the dimness of the player's tunnel, the roar of the crowd above muffled but still electrifying. My teammates jostle around me, their energy palpable. The familiar scent of sweat fills my nostrils, mingling with the dusty smell of the zyrphix pitch under the sweltering sun.

"Gonna crush those Destroyers today, Captain!" Groknak bellows, slapping my back hard enough to stagger a lesser orc. His enthusiasm is infectious, but I can't fully embrace it.

I grunt in acknowledgment, but my mind's elsewhere. Josie's defiant glare flashes in my memory, her small frame trembling with anger as she scrubbed the floors this morning. Those expressive eyes of hers, filled with fury and something else I can't quite place, haunt me even now.

To further assert my control over her, I made her come along for today's match. I rationalized it in my mind, saying how I couldn't have her robbing my things while I was gone. It's a flimsy excuse, and I know it. But admitting the truth? That's not something I'm ready for.

I may have wanted her to come and see me in action. The thought of her watching me dominate the field sends a thrillthrough my body that I can't explain. It's more than just showing off my skills; it's a primal need to prove myself to her, to make her see me as more than just the brute she thinks I am.

I shake my head, trying to focus on the game ahead. But even as I grip my zyrphix stick tighter, I can't help but wonder where she'll be sitting, if she'll be watching. Damn it all, why can't I get her out of my head?

"Sarod! Sarod, can you hear me?" Thokk waves his meaty hand in front of my face, his green skin glistening with pre-game sweat. "You with us?"

"'Course I am," I growl, shaking off the distraction. I can feel the adrenaline starting to pump through my veins, my muscles tensing in anticipation. "Let's focus on the game. We've got asses to kick."

But even as I say it, I know it's a lie. I can't stop thinking about her up there in the stands, watching me. Will she be impressed? Disgusted? Does she even give a damn? The thought of Josie's eyes on me makes my skin tingle in a way I've never felt before. It's infuriating and intoxicating all at once.

Zorg, our youngest player, bounces on his toes beside me, his tusks gleaming in the afternoon sun. "First time my family's watching me play. Gotta make 'em proud!" His enthusiasm is infectious, but it only serves to remind me of my own conflicted emotions.

I clench my fists, trying to channel all these confusing feelings into the raw aggression I'll need for the match.

"You will," I assure him, forcing myself to be present. "Just remember, stay low and use your speed."

The ground rumbles beneath our feet, signaling the start of the match. My pulse quickens, but not just from the impending game. I picture Josie in the crowd, her eyes following my every move.

"Alright, boys!" I roar, pushing thoughts of her aside. My voice carries over the din of the pre-game chaos. "Let's show these Destroyers what real zyrphix looks like!" I slam my fist into my palm for emphasis, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

As one, we surge forward into the arena, our bodies taut with anticipation. The crowd's cheers hit us like a wall of sound, a deafening cacophony that sets my blood on fire. I scan the sea of faces, searching for one in particular. Those warm brown eyes, that stubborn chin... Dammit, I need to focus. I shake my head, trying to clear it. This isn't the time for distractions, no matter how tempting. The game awaits, and I've got a reputation to uphold.

The magical ball erupts from the ground, and chaos erupts. Bodies collide, magic crackles uselessly against the ball's surface. I dive into the fray, my mind finally zeroing in on the game. The familiar rush of adrenaline courses through my veins as I thrust my way through the tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin.

But even as I grapple for control, shoving aside a particularly burly opponent with a satisfying grunt, a part of me wonders: Is she watching? And why the fuck do I care so much?

The game rages on, a blur of bodies and sweat. I'm in my element, muscles straining as I wrestle for control of the ball. But something keeps pulling at my attention, drawing my gaze to the stands.

There she is. Josie. Her face is flushed, eyes wide with excitement, brown hair whipping around her as she jumps up and down. She's on her feet, screaming and cheering along with the rest of the crowd, her voice somehow cutting through the deafening roar. For a moment, I forget that I'm in the middle of a fucking game, my mind completely consumed by her presence.