Rogan the Gray: A Paranormal Monster Romance (Orc Mates)
ROGAN THE GRAY
ORC MATES SERIES
- paranormal monster romance -
Copyright © 2021 by Cara Wylde
Cover by Alexandru Gui
All rights are reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
Chapter One
She’d lost count of the days and nights she’d been in this cell, awaiting death. They’d found her guilty of murder, and sentenced her to the chair. The trial had been short, with too much evidence piled up against her. Attempting to convince them that she was innocent and that they’d gotten the wrong person would’ve been futile, so she hadn’t even tried. She didn’t care what happened to her. Not anymore. Her only regret was that the man who’d killed her sister had walked free and was out there, living his life. She was the only witness to what had happened on that dreadful day, and she would be dead soon. Once she was gone, the real murderer would truly be free. Forever.
“Tara Caraway.”
The man’s voice startled her. She stood up and retreated into a corner. The prison guard was unlocking the cell door, and the warden himself was waiting patiently behind him. Tara furrowed her brows and wondered if her time had come. But that didn’t make much sense. She knew for a fact that all prisoners on death row were offered a proper meal before the sentence was carried out, and no one had come to ask her what she wanted for her last meal on this earth. The lock clicked open, and the warden walked in. He was holding a stack of papers.
“Tara Caraway, I’m here to offer you a way out.”
“A way out?” her voice came out croaked since she hadn’t used it in a while. She cleared her throat and tried again, as she looked into the warden’s dark eyes. He was an old man, with a bit of a hump, and he didn’t seem to mean her any harm. “What do you mean a way out?”
He dropped the papers onto her hard, wooden bed. “Death or... you can willingly offer yourself as a tribute.”
Tara paled. A tribute. She knew what that meant.
“If you’re up for it, sign the papers, and you’ll be out of here within the hour. I’ll have a van ready to escort you to the nearest institute. If you’re not up for it, well... I’m not going to blame you. But you should know that you’ll be executed by the end of the week.”
Tara swallowed heavily. “So, I either sign, or write down the menu for my last meal.”
The warden nodded. “I’ll give you a minute to think about it.”
She stood straighter and pushed her chin forward. “No need. I’ve made up my mind.” She grabbed the papers, scanned them in a hurry, then hummed solemnly, as if to mark this moment as the one that had decided her fate. “Do you have a pen?” The warden handed her his pen, and she quickly signed her name on each dotted line. She returned the pen along with the papers and waited patiently for the warden to check them.
“Good.” The old man turned on his heels and motioned for the guard to shackle her. “He’ll take you to the van. No point in lingering here, is there?” From outside of the cell, he shot her one last glance. “What has this world come to?” He shook his head in utter disappointment. “These days, murderers like you are more useful to us alive than dead.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. She’d gotten used to it. That word. Murderer. As the guard secured her wrists and ankles in cuffs, she thought that if she wasn’t one yet, she was soon going to be. At least, as a tribute and a bride, she had a chance to escape at some point and avenge her sister. And then, when that was done, she truly wouldn’t care what happened to her. Not one bit.
“Don’t try anything funny,” the guard grunted.
“I won’t.”
He walked her to the van and waited for her to get in. Before he closed the back doors, he grinned at her and shot in a sarcastic tone: “Say hi to the orcs for me.” He spat on the pavement to show his disgust. “I don’t know what’s worse. Death or mating with one of those filthy beasts. Some say being an orc bride is worse than death. I hope it is because that’s what you deserve. Murderer.”
Tara kept her mouth shut.
* * *
The institute was one of many in North America. There were similar institutes in South America, Europe, Asia, and Africa, and truth be told, what they were called – “institutes” – was a bit much considering what they truly were – temporary homes for future orc mates. There was nothing fancy about them. The women were accommodated in rooms that could hold four to six beds, had to use common toilets and showers, and eat together at long wooden tables in the cafeteria. There was a common room and a few cramped classrooms where about a dozen women were taught about orc culture from early morning till lunch, and then until about eight in the evening. That was it. In many ways, these institutes weren’t much different from prison, with the exception that no one was held in cuffs or behind bars. But once a woman stepped foot in such a home and signed herself up to become the bride of an orc, there was no going back. There were guards at the gates and patrolling outside, and the women were only free to walk around the building and the yard, but not venture beyond.
The moment Tara stepped through the gates of the institute, the driver who’d brought her removed the shackles around her wrists and ankles, handed the papers she’d signed to the manager, – who went through them and nodded, – then went on his way, back to the prison.
“Tara Caraway,” the manager, who was a tall, lanky woman acknowledged her in a soft voice. “Welcome.”
Tara rubbed at her wrists and looked around. The building was simple and a bit rundown. The yard was well-kept, though, with rose bushes lining the cobblestone alley, and benches here and there.
“Why don’t the institutes have names?” she asked.
The manager cocked a thin, overly plucked eyebrow. “We only name things and places that matter.”
“And the institutes don’t matter? They and the women who come here help keep the peace.”
“There’s no honor in what we must do to keep the peace,” the woman said as she started
walking ahead. “Come, now. I’ll show you to your room. Have you eaten?”
“Breakfast, yes.”
“Lunch is in two hours. I advise you start attending classes right away.”
“Yes, Mrs...”
“Larson. You can call me Mrs. Larson.”
Tara followed her inside. The common room was empty, and she guessed that everyone was in class. In all fairness, she knew that not many women lived at the institutes. On the one hand, there weren’t many volunteers, and on the other hand, those who were available were quickly claimed by orcs.
Orcs. Those savage beasts who’d invaded the humans’ dimension about four years before, slaughtered and plundered, until the humans had to try diplomacy instead of war. It hadn’t been the orcs’ fault, and Tara tried not to forget that. Lately, she herself had lost her faith in her own species. The fact that the orcs were here with no way of returning to their home world was the fault of human scientists who’d played with the multiverse theory like children with toys. Four years ago, they’d created a machine that could presumably alter space, time, and other forms of existence of matter they themselves didn’t know about, much less understand. What happened was that they opened portals pretty much all over the world, and when green monsters started pouring through them, horde after horde of terrifying warriors who craved blood and conquest, they panicked and destroyed the portals, along with the machine. The orcs were stuck. And the humans were stuck with them. For two years, war raged on five continents. The only place where no portals had opened was Australia, and now people were trying to emigrate there. But Australia had long closed its borders, and it was now almost impossible to run from the disaster orc and man had created.
Mrs. Larson took Tara to the room she was going to share with three more girls.
“Do you have anything with you? Clothes? Personal belongings?”
Tara shook her head.
“I’ll send a girl up with some essentials. Settle in, and then join one of the classes at...” she checked her watch, “Ten.”
“Which one?”
The manager shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Whichever has a spare seat.”
“All right. Thank you.”
The old woman turned to leave. At the last moment, she said over her shoulder: “And, Tara Caraway... I’ve read about you. I know who you are and what you did. Behave, or I’ll have you taken back to where you came from. You won’t be given another chance.”
Once again, Tara thought better of it and kept silent. She knew no one would understand, because no one even wanted to listen to what she had to say. No matter. This was better than the chair. She knew very well that this was the only chance she would ever be given. Not to live, and most certainly not to be free. But to get revenge.
She found the common bathroom and splashed cold water onto her face. She looked at herself in the mirror and cringed at how much she’d changed. Her long, wavy brown hair was in knots, her green eyes looked dull, and she’d lost some weight, even though she still couldn’t be considered thin. Tara had always been on the curvy side, and she was tall for a young, twenty-five-year-old American woman. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were cracked. She ran the tip of her tongue over them.
“No orc is going to want me if I look like this,” she whispered to herself, then wet her hands and started combing her fingers through the nest on her head. “They might be ugly, but I bet they like their brides beautiful. Like all men.”
She wanted to be chosen by one of the green beasts and taken out of here. Because then, she could try her luck and escape. With that plan in mind, she made her way downstairs and found one of the classes. She spotted an empty seat in the back and claimed it. The woman in the front was talking about orc ranks.
“We must consider ourselves lucky,” she was saying, “because the orcs that came through the portals are not the highest in rank in their society. The hordes are led by a captain, and the captain has between one and four raiders under his command. The rest are soldiers, which they call grunts, and have no say in making decisions and strategies. And then, of course, there are the mages, and we know that each horde has one mage. The ranks above the captain are the slayer and the war chief, which we could say would be the equivalent of a lord, and a king or emperor in our world. Fortunately, those stayed in their world. Or dimension, or whatever they call it.”
Tara didn’t have pen and paper, so she simply paid attention and tried to commit the information to memory. Who knew? Maybe one day it would prove to be useful.
Chapter Two
In two weeks at the institute, Tara learned a lot about orcs. Some things she knew already, others were new to her. For instance, she knew how the hordes had ended up in the human dimension, and she knew that their culture was based on war. They made war amongst themselves, and they pledged their loyalty to one of the two empires in their home world. One was the empire of Hagan, and the other was the empire of Sogar. Their world had only one continent, and they fought over it fiercely, conquering lands, then losing them in battle, and so on, until the end of time. Both war chiefs wanted to gain control over the whole continent, but they were both too strong to be defeated. So, when the scattered hordes of the two war chiefs ended up in the human world, they first fought amongst themselves, then realized it was futile, since they weren’t even clear on what they were fighting over anymore. They turned their wrath upon the humans, deciding that since they landed here, they might as well conquer the place. War was all they knew.
The war between humans and orcs lasted for two years, with great losses suffered mostly by humans. Orcs were hard to kill, and even though their weapons were rudimentary, they had magic. Every horde had their own mage, and in battle, the mage was in charge of two things: enchanting the orcs’ weapons, and casting shields and glamours to protect them from the enemy’s bullets and projectiles. Humans, on the other hand, though easily defeated, had the greatest numbers. Even without magic, they proved to be worthy opponents, and the orcs had to respect them for that. When humans came with an offer for peace, the orcs refused at first, since peace wasn’t even a concept for which they had a word in their strange, rough language. But in the end, they had to admit that their numbers were few, that not all their hordes were on the same page, and that they were fighting a war no one really understood the purpose of. So, they agreed to make peace, but on one condition: since they couldn’t go back home and most of them were male, they needed brides to warm their beds and give them heirs. After months of deliberation, the humans concluded that even though this wasn’t ideal, they could comply. After all, the orcs had made it clear that they didn’t care about the quality of the women offered, as long as they were healthy and fertile.
The scientists who’d first built the machine that had opened the portals were working tirelessly to rebuild it. But for reasons unknown, when they destroyed it, they’d also destroyed the plans and calculations, so now they had to do it all from scratch. Why they’d made such a reckless choice was anyone’s guess. Maybe there were bigger forces at work, and bigger interests that would never be revealed to the common folk.
All this, Tara learned by taking the classes the institute offered. With nothing else do to, she was in class all day long, and when she had some free time, she used it to read the research she could find on orcs. The library didn’t hold too many books, but the Internet was full of research papers and speculation of all sorts on forums and social media. Tara made a few fake profiles so she could keep up with the world.
The institute wasn’t all that bad. The women here were fed well because the orcs liked their females strong and curvy. No matter how curvy they were, they were still small and fragile compared to them. Tara had never seen an orc up close. She’d seen them on the news, everywhere on the Internet, and from a distance a couple of times. But she knew that they were as big as mountains, with wide shoulders and chests, dark hair and eyes, green skin, and arms and legs as thick as tree trunks. If s
he were to be honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she was ready to meet one, much less become his bride. But she had to do it. This was the only way.
“Tomorrow’s the day,” one of her roommates said as she prepared for bed.
“What day?”
The blonde girl whose name was Rose giggled. “Tara, come on. Where’s your head at? Everyone’s been talking about it for the past few days! The orcs are coming to see us.”
“Oh.” Tara vaguely remembered some discussions in the cafeteria. Since she’d come here, she’d kept to herself and hadn’t made any friends. “I forgot.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “It’s Doors Open Day. It happens every month, and it’s the only time when orcs are allowed to visit the institutes and choose brides. Of course, each institute has a different day. Creating competition is not the point.”
“That must sit well with them,” Tara grumbled. “To have so many options and chances to choose someone.”
Rose shrugged. “I don’t know. There aren’t that many tributes. I heard our institute is one of the most crowded ones. This month, at least, was a good one.”
Tara laughed bitterly. “That’s sad, though, isn’t it? It means the state of Georgia is full of women who have no other choice.”
Rose plopped onto her bed and sighed. “I guess you’re right. But I had a choice. To stay with my abusive boyfriend, leave and risk him finding me and hurting me again, or... volunteering for this.”
“What makes you think an orc will be less abusive than your ex?”
Rose’s blue eyes widened. “What do orcs want? Babies. Well, to get that from a human female they could easily break just by breathing harder on her, they would have to be at least a little bit gentle, right? That’s my reasoning.”
Tara’s heart ached. She felt sorry she hadn’t befriended Rose earlier. She was a sweet girl who was a few years younger than her, and who’d suffered unspeakable horrors. “I hope so,” she said.