Page 23 of Caged By the Orc

The dark elf sees me coming, his eyes widening in fear. Good. He should be scared. He tries to juke left, but I'm ready for it. I lunge, my massive arms wrapping around his waist as I slam him into the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of him, and the ball goes flying.

But before I can celebrate, another dark elf is on me. This one's different - taller, broader, with a mean look in his eyes that tells me he's itching for a fight. Fine by me.

He comes at me swinging, his fists a blur of motion. I dodge the first punch, feeling the wind of it brush past my cheek. The second one connects, a solid hit to my jaw that makes my teeth rattle. I taste blood, and something primal awakens inside me.

I roar, the sound tearing from my throat as I grab him by the waist. With a burst of strength, I lift him clean off the ground, his legs kicking uselessly in the air. The crowd goes wild, their cheers washing over me like a tidal wave.

For a moment, I hold him there, suspended above me like some kind of twisted trophy. Then, with all the force I can muster, I slam him into the ground. The impact sends a shockwave through the dirt, and I swear I can hear the crack of bones beneath me.

The dark elf doesn't get up.

The crowd erupts into a frenzy, their voices merging into one deafening roar. "SA-ROD! SA-ROD! SA-ROD!" They chant my name like a war cry. Fuck if it doesn't feel good.

I turn back to the game, adrenaline surging through my veins. My teammates have used the distraction to push forward, the ball once again in our possession. We're closing in on the goal, ready to hammer another nail in these dark elves' coffin.

And I've never felt more alive.

18

JOSIE

Ican barely contain my excitement as I watch Sarod dominate the field. My heart's racing, and I'm on my feet, cheering louder than I ever thought possible. It's like I'm seeing him for the first time, really seeing him. The way he moves, all power and grace, it's... breathtaking.

When he takes down that dark elf, I feel a surge of pride so intense it catches me off guard. I'm supposed to hate him, right? He's my captor, my tormentor. But watching him out there, larger than life, I can't help but feel a connection to him that goes beyond our complicated history.

The crowd around me is going wild, chanting his name. I find myself joining in, my voice blending with theirs. It feels good, natural even, to be cheering for him. My hands are clapping so hard they sting, but I can't stop. The energy in the arena is electric, and I'm caught up in the current.

As the match comes to its thrilling conclusion, with Sarod's team claiming another victory, something shifts inside me. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks - I like him. Really like him. Not just as a formidable zyrphix player, but as a person. The thought should terrify me, but instead, it fills me with awarmth I can't explain. My heart is racing, and it's not just from the excitement of the game anymore.

I think back to our moments together, the tense conversations, the shared laughter. Even our arguments have a certain spark to them now that I can't ignore. And the way he looks at me sometimes... could it be that he enjoys having me around too? I remember the way his amber eyes soften when we talk, how his deep voice seems to rumble through me. Gods, what am I thinking? This is Sarod we're talking about. But I can't deny the flutter in my stomach when I picture his face, scarred and green and so damn handsome it hurts.

The crowd starts to disperse, but I stay rooted to my spot, my mind reeling. I'm no longer just a reluctant servant in his home. I'm someone who matters to him, who he protects and values. The memory of him defending me against Grokus floods back, and I feel a rush of affection for him.

As I watch Sarod celebrate with his teammates on the field, I can't help but smile. He catches my eye and grins, that cocky, self-assured grin that used to infuriate me. Now, it makes my heart skip a beat.

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad I'm here. Glad to be a part of his world, even if it started in the most unconventional way. As I make my way down to meet him in the player's tunnel, I realize that for the first time since this whole ordeal began, I'm not thinking about escaping. I'm thinking about staying.

I push through the throng of excited fans, my heart still racing from the intensity of the match. The chants of Sarod's name echo around me, but I'm focused on getting to the player's tunnel. I can't wait to see him, to congratulate him on his victory.

As I weave between bodies, a chill runs down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I can't shake the feeling that someone's watching me. It's an eerie sensation, like icy fingers tracing my skin. I glance over my shoulder, but allI see are jubilant faces and raised fists. The crowd's energy is electric, but it does nothing to dispel my unease.

"Get a grip, Josie," I mutter to myself, shaking my head. But the sensation persists, growing stronger with each step. My heart starts to race, and I can feel sweat beading on my forehead despite the cool air.

I pick up my pace, trying to convince myself it's just paranoia. Maybe it's leftover adrenaline from the match, or the lingering effects of my complicated situation with Sarod. The roar of the crowd seems to fade into the background as my own thoughts grow louder. But deep down, I know it's more than that. There's a heaviness in the pit of my stomach, a primal instinct screaming at me to run. I've learned to trust these gut feelings, and right now, every fiber of my being is on high alert.

My eyes dart around, searching for anything out of place. The crowd seems normal enough - orcs, humans, and dark elves alike, all caught up in the excitement of the game. But there's something... off. A presence that doesn't belong.

I spot a gap in the crowd and make a beeline for it, hoping to put some distance between myself and whoever - or whatever - is watching me. As I break free from the mass of bodies, the feeling intensifies. It's like icy fingers trailing down my back, and I have to fight the urge to run.

"Almost there," I whisper, willing my legs to move faster. The player's tunnel is just ahead, and I know Sarod will be there soon. I'll be safe with him, protected. My heart races, pounding against my ribs as I push through the lingering crowd. Sweat trickles down my back, fear teeming off of me in waves.

But as I near the entrance, a shadow falls across my path. I don't want to believe it at first. My breath catches in my throat as I look up, expecting - dreading - to see the source of my unease. The tunnel's darkness seems to deepen, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket.

My heart plummets when I recognize Grokus, his scarred face twisted in a malicious grin. His bulk fills the entrance, leaving no room for escape. I take an involuntary step back, my legs trembling beneath me.

"Well, well. If it isn't Sarod's little pet," he sneers, his voice a low rumble that sends chills down my spine. His eyes rake over me, and I fight the urge to shrink away. The stench of sweat and aggression rolls off him in waves, making my stomach churn.

Before I can react, his meaty hand clamps around my arm like a vise. I try to wrench free, twisting and pulling with all my might, but he's too strong. His fingers dig into my flesh, and I know there'll be bruises later.