Orc Bound Mates

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, annoyance streaking my cheeks at how tired I appear. All this overtime is killing me. I remember being so full of ambition and excitement when I started this job. Taking on the paralegal position in Brother and Brother’s Law Firm. I didn’t expect the tacked-on status of being my own secretary. So, I get the joy of excessively long hours and no added benefit of someone helping me. I should have known better, I really should have, but the 24-year-old Alexa was naive in thinking she was starting a bright career. Maybe if I were the thin lengthy blonde type, it would have been like that. I would have had the extra manpower to complete my work on time and be able to go home when everyone else did. I stare at the woman in the mirror, loving her for always being who she is. I trace the edges of my extra curves and sigh. I’m definitely not thin; with my thick thighs that could squash a watermelon and extra tummy fluff, I’m no swimsuit model. I twist my body around, assessing my backside; the big ass my mama gave me fills out my tight slacks. My waist cuts in where my chest ends and slopes down to my wide hips. I’ve got the hourglass figure, just thicker than most. Luckily, with all my ample-sized bits, I was blessed with huge t**s. I love them the most out of all my body parts; they are so much more than a handful. Most men can’t hold one of them in both hands. I have my strawberry blonde hair pulled up into a nice bun to keep it from getting in the way. Having all my hair up highlights my soft rounded cheeks, arched eyebrows, thick pouty lips, and honey-brown eyes. Frustration makes me turn away from the bathroom mirror; I have more work to do before I can leave for the night. I glance at the clock on the wall outside the lady’s restroom and sigh. It’s already 7:45 PM. Everyone has already left the office a few hours ago, leaving me to prep the cases for Friday’s trial. I trudge down the hallway, resigning myself to my fate. Sitting down at my desk, I shuffle through the paperwork again, making sure everything is in order and labeled. I read through the case information, double-checking that everything is correct and there aren’t any spelling errors. The attorneys in the office have a bad habit of leaving the spelling corrections to me, being too lazy to write it down correctly the first time. I let myself get lost in the routine of fixing the errors of men and try to finish my work as quickly as possible. I want to go home and get some sleep before doing it all again tomorrow. After completing ninety percent of Kevin’s casework, I can’t take it anymore. My vision blurs around the edges; I need to stop looking over the black letters scrolling over the white legal-sized paper. I’m not confident I’ll be improving the quality of the case file at this point. I stuff the stack of papers back into its folder and set it in my inbox for tomorrow morning. After a good night's rest, some strong coffee, and the will to live, I’ll finish the prep work. I collect my laptop and slide it into my computer bag. Slinging it over my shoulder, I head towards the rear entrance since the front doors are already locked for the night. I punch in the security code before exiting the building. The warm, early fall air cloaks my body in its balmy embrace. This humid Florida air will leave me sweaty from head to toe. I groan, knowing I’ll need a shower before going to bed. I sigh for the millionth time today and start walking down the alleyway behind the office. Taking a right at the street ahead, I try to enjoy my relaxing walk home. I’m grateful I managed to get an apartment so close to work; the short distance saves me hundreds of dollars a month in vehicle costs. I try to fight the uneasy feeling creeping over my spine. I swear someone’s following me. The same man is several meters behind me every time I glance over my shoulder. I move to the other side of the road, and he follows suit. I discreetly rummage through my computer bag and want to curse. I left my pepper spray on the table next to my front door. I had meant to put it back in my work bag, but since I was rushing this morning, I forgot to grab it. I could be wrong. He could be going in the same direction I am. Calm down. I glance over my shoulder for the fifth time, 100% positive the man’s following me. I can feel the creep’s eyes slinking over every inch of my backside, and dreadful chills shiver up my spine. I glance over my shoulder again, trying to make out his appearance in the shadows engulfing the city street. What I can see is that he seems average in height with a stocky build. Increasing the speed of my stride, I try creating some much-needed distance between me and the lunatic pursuing me. A venture that isn’t as graceful as you would think since I’m wearing my work clothes. My work outfit consists of pinstriped slacks, a curve-hugging mousy button-up blouse, and slate gray three-inch pumps to complete the appearance of impeccable professionalism. The clacking of my heels against the sidewalk indicates my every movement. Fucking mandatory heels! The fifteen-minute walk back to my apartment generally helps me wind down for the night, but tonight isn’t turning out that way. Usually, my walk home from the law office is peaceful, regardless of the time of night. Most nights, I’m not lucky enough to get out before the streetlights blink on. I study the dark street, hoping to find an open business or someone I can take refuge with before the man catches up to me. My luck has been fleeing like a plague these past few months. So, there are no open businesses or stray groups of people to guarantee my safety. I curse my misfortune before banking a left onto the main street that bisects the city. The silent streets echoing with the sound of my heels mock my anxious retreat. This situation is just another stroke of terrible luck that seems to be the standard of my life right now. Every time my awful luck strikes, the cane cracks a little more. Hopefully, it will break soon, and some better fortune will be in my future. The start of my suffering was nothing more than minor annoyances. After making it perfectly, I'd spill my coffee, stub my toe against the corner of a table, or fight my hair into a bun after nothing managed to tame the mess. Basically, nothing outside the customary amount of misery to balance the Cosmos or whatever. However, that all changed a couple of months ago. My minor irritations developed into physically and mentally damaging instances. They started with flat tires several days in a row, getting swarmed by bees that left me in the hospital for days. I almost lost my job with that one. My eleven-year-old cat Rocky got cancer and had to be put down. Oh, don't let me get you down, though; it gets better, or worse, for that matter. In the last few weeks alone, the engine in my car blew out while I was driving on the highway. My ex-fiancé cheated on me with my former best friend in the bed I paid for, no less. The worst one was my last living relative, my grandmother, Jinia, who passed away on my birthday. And now this bullshit. To add insanity to injury, I’m monologuing my depressing sob story to myself. Oh, how the turns have tabled. The thumping of his heavy footsteps beats the ground as he speeds up to avoid losing me around the corner. At the echo of his fast approach, my heart leaps into my throat, threatening to burst from my mouth. I don't dare pause to take a deep breath; there isn’t enough time to take a break. The fear attacking my nervous system gives me the insane idea to confront him, but that course of action will likely get me assaulted or killed tonight. Possibly both. During that brief moment of indecision, I imagine a morbid scenario playing out in my head. The man catching up to me, his thick arm wrapping around my throat and dragging me down one of the many dark alleyways that line the street. Him throwing me against the side of a building, knocking the air from my lungs. He tears my shirt off, exposing my breasts to the world. His hands grabbing me so forcefully that bruises stain my pale skin from their unforgiving hold. My nose filling with a cloud of rotten breath as he tugs my slacks off, stealing the only shield I have to protect myself. He silences my attempts to scream with a big clammy hand, smothering all my protests. There's no point in listening to my complaints or aversions because they don't matter to him. My only value for him is a warm hole for him to defile. He prevents any real damage when I try to kick out my legs, attempting to break his hold on me. He flips me around to slam my face against the concrete wall, limiting my ability to fight back. Tears roll down my face as the rough surface rips at my skin, leaving lacerations all over my body. I shake myself from the terrible thoughts and decide that running like my life depends on it sounds a s**t ton better than hoping he loses interest and leaves me alone. My lizard brain is kicking in to help save me. In my hasty escape, I kick off my heels and start running down the street without looking back. The temptation to discard my work bag niggles me as it bangs against my side, the constant onslaught hindering my sprint for freedom. The booming echoes of his pursuit catch my attention before I manage to decide on my bag or make noteworthy progress down the street. The terror of being chased has my heart pumping adrenaline through my veins, the spike surging my body to move faster. My suspicions have been confirmed; there's no doubt about it; he's after me. My fight-or-flight instinct causes me to take flight first, and I refuse to go against my instincts. If he catches me, my next option is to fight. Rather than have my life ruined by an assault, I would choose to die fighting. Suddenly, a morbid part of my brain reels at the sheer ridiculousness of an old memory as it plays through my mind's eye like an old movie reel. I remember being a child and giggling in delight while my father chased me around the house. He was pretending to be a monster that would eat me if I let him get too close. Thanks, brain. I need the flashes of sweet memories while pain and suffering breathe down my neck. Nevertheless, this is no monster chasing me because I'm being hunted by a man, albeit a vile man. Maybe he got beaten as a child and was forced to wear women's clothes to gain his daddy’s approval. Perhaps the bigger kids bullied him when he was attending school. Who knows, he could’ve been assaulted before, and the ordeal scarred him. Oh, the emotional trauma. Cry me a river. There's no way his past suffering excuses what he’s planned for me and who knows how many before me. Fuck! f**k!! f**k!!! I scream inside my head. There should be a scream echoing through the night to alert anyone nearby, but it stays lodged in my constricted throat, suffocating me. I can only concentrate on running as fast as possible and taking in as much air as I can. There is only so much I can maintain focus on at the moment. Breathe in, breathe out. Run like hellhounds are nipping at my heels. Don’t get caught by this madman. I’m no runner. Nor have I ever been. The artsy, happy-go-lucky girl that loves to make everyone happy, that’s me. As a sympathetic ear with an open mind, I've always been a reliable source of support. A solid shoulder to cry on when life gets too hard. Hell, the DD for drunk friends that needed a lift home. Whatever you need, name it, and I’ll be it. Friends are family, and family is everything. That is until someone plucks my last nerve, then the loud-mouthed, furious b***h comes out to put in her ten cents. Because two cents weren’t enough. Usually, b***h Alexa only came out when things got rough. Don't f**k with the people I love. Don't abuse or beat animals or anything weaker than you. The list is short, but the recoil is massive. Despite the intimidating height of 5’2” I stand at, I know how to throw around my almost 200 pounds. The only thing dainty about me is my height. Being the chunky girl has never been an issue for me. I’ve always loved my curves and extra fluff. Despite that, I wish I were about sixty pounds lighter right now. As a result of my extra fluff, everything's bouncing and jarring all at once. Making this impromptu run more than painful. Running with sweater puppies, large enough to shame a mid-sized watermelon, hurts—very taxing work. I continue forward, desperate to make it to the edge of the road before the creep can gain any more ground. Taking the next right I come to, I see the large city park at the end of the road. And hoping, as stupid as that is with my luck, that someone would be there to help me, I surge forward. The heat of his evil presence against my back feels like he’s breathing hot, rancid breath against my neck. In the darkness of the night, flying through the park blindly isn't a bright idea. But this is where I am now, frantically searching for another living human being. When so far, the whole city seems to be a ghost town. There is no one in sight. I frantically scan the meticulously tended park grounds and want to scream as the bare space stares back at me. It looms with its vast open greenery, taunting my fears with its emptiness. No one else is in the park, and why would there be? Again, my luck. I cut to the left, heading for a dense patch of trees, praying I can lose him in the dense swath of thick oak and cypress trees. Zigzagging through the massive trunks, I plunge into sensory blindness. The darkness surrounding me becomes absolute. All sound quiets to white noise behind the roar of blood rushing through my head. The scent of the quiet, wooded area overwhelms the odor of the city that I left behind. I draw in great breaths that don’t seem to bring in enough oxygen. The edges of my vision spark with stars of dizziness. I nearly trip and spiral out of control as black fog encloses around my field of view. The warm air surrounding me shifts and tightens against my body like a wrap before snapping free. Like a moth too strong for the spider’s web. In my wild sprint through the trees and foliage, the abnormal sensation partially escapes my attention. Frantic, I dodge behind a particularly massive oak and hope my hunter is as blinded by the darkness as I am. My mind is racing desperately for salvation with no answer in sight. I fight hard to slow my breathing as I listen to the sounds around me, furiously hoping no one is following me. I strain my ears in the silence, waiting for the snap of a stick or rustle of leaves to alert me to an approaching person. The deafening silence screams in my head. I inhale deep gulps of air as several moments pass; there is no thudding of someone fumbling through the woods. The quick moments stretch to minutes, and I manage to get myself under control: normal breathing, steady heartbeat, the works. While getting myself back into a semblance of working order, I consider my options. I can keep running through to the other end of the park before looping back around to get to my apartment. My only other option is to call someone to help me. I don’t particularly have anyone I can call. Being the only child of dead parents, I have no one in the city. No friends. No living family. No boyfriend. No one. Just an empty studio apartment with dying plants, and they aren’t going to help me. I take my cell phone out of my bag, anyway, wanting to check my contacts list for anyone who might be able to save me. I press my thumb on the fingerprint sensor; the screen lighting up illuminates me and my surroundings. I swipe out of the book I was reading on the k****e app to find the Contacts icon; with my thumb hovering over the symbol, something in the screen's top right corner catches my attention. The signal bar has an 'X' where 5G normally sits. What?!? No service??? I’m in the middle of Tampa! How can I have no signal? Confusion filters through me; I dial 911 since it’s supposed to connect even without service. I put the phone to my ear and listen for a few moments. No ringing. Just silence. I pull the phone away and watch as the call tries to go through before some stupid error message pops up. Pissed, I shove the phone back into my bag, hopelessness darkening my heart. I peek around the edge of the tree, hand clutching the center of my shirt, and see no one. Just empty woods, dark and choking. I dig into my work bag again to find the spare flats I always keep for the days my feet can't take the heels anymore. Gratitude to past Alexa for always keeping a few comfort items in our bag has me sighing in relief. I dust the dirt off my feet before slipping the shoes over my tender soles. I carefully stand, reposition my bag and continue padding in the direction I was heading before taking my break. At this point, I should be near the park's edge. Still straining my ears, I listen for any disruptions in the foliage around me, staying ready to bolt at the slightest noise. My heart lurches into my throat, and my stomach drops into my feet as a wolf howls distantly. My mind scatters as primal terror stabs me in the gut. Why the hell would there be a wolf in the middle of the city? The howl draws out long and foreboding, sending goosebumps down my body. I don’t want to tempt my luck any further tonight because running into a wolf in the middle of a city park would be in my wheelhouse of luck. I move a little faster toward the far end of the park, forgetting about being quiet. I break out into another wild sprint at the sound of unnaturally heavy footsteps, not too far behind me, breaking through the quiet forest. Low-hanging branches snatch at my clothes, slapping my exposed skin and leaves behind throbbing welts and stinging scratches that will ache for days. Sharp rocks dig into the bottom of my thin flats, making every step more painful than the last. In the midst of my manic thoughts, I wonder why it's taking me so long to break through the park's edge. I should have reached it by now, but since I can't see ten feet ahead of me, I could very well be running in circles. I want to cry in the overwhelming relief that floods through me as I see a faint shaft of moonlight ahead through a gap in the trees. I breach the edge of the forest, leaving the safety of the trees to find myself lost in a vast ocean of grass. The crisp, silvery moonlight washes the meadow in an illuminating glow; I blink my eyes at the brightness after being shrouded in darkness for so long. The clearing before me spreads too far to be part of any park outside of a nature reserve. Momentarily, I forget I'm fleeing from someone bent on compromising my safety until the thundering cracks of running feet snaps me out of my confusion. Move your ass!! I pump my legs faster, ignoring their screaming protest at the action. In an attempt to reenter the forest before the creature can catch up with me, I veer to the right. I reach the edge of the clearing—about a hundred yards from where I broke through. After passing the first set of trees, I pause behind one for a moment to catch my breath. My stomach roils at the sheer force of running for as long as I have. A roar splits the nearly tranquil land around me. I can’t resist whipping around to see what in the hell’s made such a brutal shout. I choke in horror as a hulking figure comes barreling out of the woods, too tall and wide to be an ordinary man. In the illumination of the fat moon, I can make out giant shoulders, a mane of black hair, and large limbs that, even from a distance, put the fear of the devil in me. The massive man lifts his head and sniffs the air for a moment before angling in my direction and charging. Another roar cleaves the air, slamming me from my stillness. I whirl around and vault into another sprint. I barely notice another howl coursing through the night in my panic. The sound seems closer than the first time it cut through the air. Terror drives every thought from my mind but my need to escape; I hurtle through the underbrush as fast as I can. A part of me knows that I’ll never be fast enough. No matter how hard I try, the monster behind me will catch up in no time and devour me. Tear me limb from limb. A legitimate monster. For the first time tonight, throughout all the s**t I’ve been through, a high-pitched, earsplitting scream comes from my throat. The primal instinct in me that’s terrified I’m going to die soon doesn’t seem to care. The more intelligent part of me knows screaming will only exhaust me faster and slow me down. As one scream pitters out, I fill my lungs to capacity, and another shriek fills in where the last left off. The darkness is closing in around my vision again, threatening to render me unconscious at the lack of oxygen fueling my body. Tears are burning my eyes, and I hardly notice a giant black blur of a beast flashing past me in the darkness, accompanied by another howl. I register the responding shouts of my cries too late to change course. I don’t have the reaction time or focus to avoid crashing into one of the three new behemoths rushing toward me. I run headlong into one of them, my head bouncing off his chest like a ball. My body pitches toward the soil, but strong arms wrap around me before I hit the ground. All the terror, all the desperation, everything flickers to nothing. Darkness consumes me like a starving beast.