Whether you are looking for a ravaged planet or ravaged women this series is perfect for you! Get your first taste of Protheka with these fifteen massive orcs as they fight for their lives and something they never expected to find... their mates.

Follow along as this dystopian Earth is changed not by these impressive warriors but by the fierce humans that hold their hearts.

It is time for them to fight for what they want. They must shoulder the weight of their clan's expectations, the pressure of their positions... and the impending war. Get ready becuase these orcs...

Won't hold back.

Not. An. Inch.

Rescued by the Orc Chieftain: the book that started it all 

On this broken Earth, survival is a cruel gamble, and human lives are just chips in the pot. When I was traded to the orcs, I braced for the worst. But then I met Yrish.

They call him the Mad Dog—a cursed orc commander who loses himself in battle. Fearsome, unpredictable, and entirely dangerous. And yet, when his fiery eyes locked onto mine, I felt something I hadn’t in years: hope.

“Stay close,” he said, his voice rough yet strangely tender. And when his massive frame shielded me from the chaos of his world, I believed for a moment that I might finally be safe.

But Yrish has no mate, no heir. And orc clans demand loyalty—and children.

Now, as his claim on me deepens, the whispers start: “She must earn her place by breeding with Yrish.”

I should resist. I should run. But one look at the powerful warrior who both terrifies and protects me, and I know I’ll never escape—not because I’m trapped, but because I don’t want to leave.

Chapter 1

Korthar

The grey sky stretches out for miles, the sun now becoming a distant memory as winter stakes its claim. The winter winds bite at my skin, and I can tell that it will be a harsh one this year. It is always something that is at the forefront of my mind as Chieftain of the Battle Scar Clan.

“Gather the Council,” I command, looking down into the valley below.

Survival is the only thing that is ever on my mind, the threats ever-present, whether from the rival clans or from the land that we now call our home.

I try not to think about the supplies that are running low. How this makes us more vulnerable to attack and to the elements. Worry will not solve our problems. I need to find a way, and soon.

The Broken Tusk Clan are always encroaching east and will stop at nothing to see us ruined. But from what we now know, they have made themselves weak by allowing human women to infiltrate their clan, even breeding with them. 

I have always believed that partnering with humans is the best way for all of us to survive, though this is rarely something I discuss. But what they have done has taken partnering to a whole different level, something even I find hard to stomach.

Then there are the Broken Bones Clan, our closest and most hated enemies. Even these   now have access to human females, though how we have yet to discover.

We are Orcs. We live for battle and war is our language. But we must learn to cooperate with humans if we have any chance of survival. This is not something borne of altruism, but of logic and reason. This may not be the way that we usually do things, but that way isn’t working. 

The fertile grounds between us remain a constant cause of battle as we fight to survive. Given the abundance on this planet there should be enough for all of us, but that is rarely how things work—especially with Orcs.

Though Earth can be harsh it is nothing compared to what we endured on our home planet under the persecution of the Elves. When we fled through the rift and arrived here it was unthinkable to witness such a civilization, and a planet that held so many riches.

I envied the humans and the way they lived, nothing like the harsh lives that we were so used to—so rich with resources and technologies that allowed them to thrive. That was before we arrived.

I look down at the valley below, the trees shedding the last of the leaves, the ground beginning to harden. Soon, the land will be barren and the Broken Bones will start to encroach. There is no time to lose.

“The Council are ready,” says a voice behind me. 

I cast one last glance at the dying landscape and turn. “Send someone up here to keep watch,” I say. “Day and night.” They do not usually get this close, but my internal threat levels have been raised and I need to be sure.

“Of course.”

I trudge back to the holding, wrapping my furs across my broad shoulders. We are a strong race, a large race, but we are still flesh and bone, and our bodies have not yet adapted to cold such as this.

When I enter the council room it is silent, and I know that can’t be a good thing. Though they probably sense my serious disposition, I know that if there was something good to report then the mood would be lighter.

They rise as I walk in and I take my seat at the head of the table. “No doubt we all know why we are here,” I say.

Nothing.

“We face a harsh Winter ahead of us. Our supplies are low, and our population is not healthy. I need not say that this is of grave concern. The Tuskers are now breeding with humans and we are yet to see more than ten live births this last season.”

Garokk, a trusted member of the council speaks up first. “We share your concerns, Chief. It is true that the Tuskers are now seeing a spike in their population growth. Our recon efforts have taught us that this is likely to continue, now that they are going about things in a more…unorthodox manner.”

I heave out a heavy breath, wondering how things have come to this. Since when have Tuskers been agents of change? They are brutes, plain and simple. 

“And now that they have a second in command who is a human female…” 

The room comes to life, grunts and murmurings filling it. 

“Now that they have a second in command who is a human female,” Garokk continues, “we have to wonder if they will start to make alliances with the human population. Also, now the Broken Bones seem to have human females, that is something we cannot leave to chance.”

My stomach clenches. It is I that intend to do that, and I will be damned if I let Tuskers get there before me, and even more so the Broken Bones. Though I doubt very much that could happen. The Broken Bones do not have the skills, the diplomacy or the temperament to make alliances, especially with humans, surely?

 But I need to remain focused.

“Kijal, where are we on supplies? Right now, that needs to be our highest priority. Can we feed ourselves this Winter?”

Kijal looks at me, then around at the rest of the council members. “We are running low on everything, Chief. Our meat stores are rapidly depleting, even after rationing, and our grains will last us but three moons.”

I try not to show the fear that runs through me. It is my job to lead these people, and that’s what I must do. I just need to know how I am going to feed them.

Or the Battle Scar Clan will be consigned to history.

Chapter 2

Anna

The snow will soon start to fall, and it has been six months since the last batch of women has been gifted. That can mean only one thing: it is time.

Now that winter approaches, I can only hope that I am not to be one of them—the unfortunate women that are offered to the Broken Bones Clan as tributes, in exchange for their protection and what little supplies those monsters are willing to offer up in order to get their disgusting hands on us.

Not that anyone, apart from the leaders of bunker #45 will see the benefit of their offerings. They are to be solely enjoyed by those who claim to lead us. But what they offer is not leadership, it is dictatorship.

Despite all of the advances that women had made over the centuries, once there was opportunity enough following the orc invasion it took little time to return to the dark ages. As women we are expendable. We are here to be used and enjoyed, and little else. 

The orc invasion changed everything. Now, humans live like ants on our own planet, the threat of orc attack forever looming over us, and women live as slaves. But living as a slave to orcs is something that weighs heavy on us all here. Better the devil you know, as the old saying goes.

Though the leader and his council hate the orcs they are more than willing to hand over women to them every six months. I would say it was like a living hell wondering if your name is going to be called next, but we are already in one, and we are used to it.

Living underground in the bunker is what we know. There are times when I wonder what it would be like to run. But where I go? I would never manage to outrun the orcs who stalk this land as though they own it, though by now they surely do.

Some of the women say I am lucky because of the way I look, kept from the worst of the jobs that this existence has to offer. What beauty has given me is the duty to please men. I am a commodity, the same as any other woman here. And the leader has been keen to keep me away from any other men in the bunker or beyond. 

Like every woman in this godforsaken place I crave something else, no idea what this might be, but feeling it deeply. The gnawing inside me becoming so painful it often threatens to eat me alive.

For now, I do as I’m asked. I serve and please the men who pretend to be my protectors but are actually my captors, and take each miserable day as it comes. Each one just as empty as the last. Each one as unfulfilling as the next.

Some may call that luck, but there is a reason for my different treatment. I’m not sure what that is, but nothing happens without reason here. As a commodity I have a certain value, and that means I will come in useful to the leader one day.

I’m beginning to think that day may have come.

“Have you taken the water and fruits down to the council chambers?” Elena, one of the kitchen hands asks. 

“I’m just about to,” I say. 

“Better not keep them waiting, you know how they get when they are not serviced as required.”

“How could I ever forget?” I say, flatly.

“You, okay? You seem a bit… distracted.”

I grab a tray and start to load it with whatever fruits I can find, mainly apples and some berries. “Just the time of year I suppose.”

“I know, I try not to think about it—just keep busy.”

“You’ll be safe,” I say. “You’re the best cook in the bunker.”

She smiles. “What’s to say the orcs aren’t looking for a good cook?” she says. I look back at her, my eyes searching hers. Even though she is smiling I can see the dullness in her eyes, the worry that lives there as it does in us all. 

No one is safe. And no one lives without this fear.

Instinctively I put down the tray and walk over to her, encircling her in my arms and pulling her in tightly. We stand there for a few minutes, clinging to each other, allowing our fear to exist together and trying to bring comfort to ourselves and the other.

Eventually she pulls away, wipes away a tear and busies herself with the pots and pans. “Damn kitchen needs a good clear out,” she says, trying to change the subject. 

Because that’s what we do. We live our lives, press down our fears and get on with the jobs we are charged with.

“There are some nuts in the pantry,” she says. “Sprinkle a few on, maybe one of them can choke on them. Hopefully our fucking leader.”

She looks up at me and I burst into laughter, the nervous type that loosens the tension in your belly. Clutching at her throat and lifting her eyeballs up into her head she makes my stomach hurt from laughing even harder.

But then I turn as I see her face change, her eyes now trained on the door where one of the assistants to the council members now stands, his face worked into a false and disgusting smile.

“That’s what I like to see—women enjoying their work.”

My stomach sinks to the floor and my head spins. I wait to hear the words—will it be my name or hers or maybe even both?

He walks into the kitchen obviously enjoying the power of seeing us both brought to our knees. Nonchalantly he picks up an apple from the tray and bites into it. We wait for another agonizing moment while he chews and swallows.

“Anna,” he eventually says. “Our leader wishes to see you.”