AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nay. Another of our males stopped by Creede to trade. He saw your Aunt Rosemary and she asked where you were—why you hadn’t yet arrived. He dropped everything and raced back to Solaya. We began searching for you immediately.”
“What did you find?”
“That none of the clans would dare to touch West Mountain orc royalty. But that there were rogues who’d forged their own alliance. Four males from the Blackheart clan, two from the Southpeak. And a female Blackheart. We assumed she helped trap you somehow, and knew where you were being held. I didn’t realize she was you; that something happened to make you forget who you were.”
“And you didn’t recognize me when you watched me naked in the river?” I scoff. His tale is farfetched and it’s exactly the sort of thing a West Mountain orc would do to a prisoner. Keep her so entranced that eventually she wants to bear his brats, despite having a mate.
“Nay,” he says. “You were softer last time I saw you. You’ve lost a lot of weight. You didn’t have the tattoos.” He traces the raised scars on my forehead. “Your hair has never been this dark.”
“’Tis elderberry grease for my mourning period.”
“Hmm,” he says, his fingers still twirling the lock of my hair. “And does this tooth belong to your ex-king?” He grasps the pendant.
“Aye,” I say, surprised that he knows.
“’Tis a West Mountain tradition. A bit of witchery handed down from the humans in our clan. The pendant is protection, it bursts when it serves its purpose, but you must bless it during the night of the full moon.”
“Well, then,” I scoff, not letting him see how his words affect me. “That proves it was just a coincidence. Because I certainly don’t follow full-moon rituals.”
Except for laying out in the open to be kissed by the moonlight in trade for a cursed night in the tent.
“Hmm.” Very gently, he tugs it toward him and I follow, then freeze when he cups my cheek. His tongue licks his lips, so slowly, and I wonder if he’s thinking to kiss me? My heartbeat speeds up and the blood races through my veins.
I want this. I want him like I’ve never wanted my own mate. I’m afraid to believe in his story though, because I’m not sure if I can stand crashing down should I find it’s a lie. I’ve become too dependent on my dreams. I couldn’t bear if he crushed those with lies.
“I’m not a soft female,” I point out.
“Nay. Not anymore. But you were.”
“Do you prefer... her?” I ask. There’s a hint of vulnerability in my voice that I wish I could take back.
“You are her, sweet. Just stronger than ever.”
I ponder those words. Mayhap he prefers a female in skirts, riding behind him on a horse, hugging him with all her might. A female who shyly smiles and plays coy. One who doesn’t offer to quench the itch between each other.
“Don’t believe me? Here is my gift to you.” His hand grips the back of my neck, tilting my face up to him. “I won’t slaughter your clan. I’ll let you do it.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not going to slaughter my own. I’m already in penance for killing our king when I was out of my wits.” Figures my clan expects me to slaughter their king and he expects me to slaughter them. Are all of these males trying to manipulate me?
His smile is feral. “I would like nothing more than to tear them from limb to limb, to scatter their remains across the entire planet. But you, my new strong mate, will always resent not doing it yourself. In the past, I wouldn’t have allowed you to sully yourself. But now? I will be so proud of whatever decision you choose to make. If you allow them to live, fine. If you allow them a painless death? Fine. If you make an example of them across all the orc clans? I will be by your side, my mate.”
“I can’t be your mate,” I remind him.
“Jogug of my heart.”
“Not of your heart, either.”
“Aye, sweet. You are.”
His mouth crashes down to mine.
My pulse throbs in my throat. My temperature climbs and my heart thuds like a bird trapped in my chest.
Need curls through me, stealing all thoughts except for the most primal urges inside me. The need to climb him, to thrust against him, to lock our bodies together.
When I pull away slightly to whimper, he slants his head and cups the back of my neck, trapping me to him and kissing harder, like he doesn’t want to let me go. Long, deep kisses, desperate for each other, our tongues sliding.
I can feel the hard planes of his chest, sharp ridges beneath my palms, so unlike the males I’m used to. He smells good, so good, his rich, warm scent filling my nostrils with the comforting tinge of cinnamon.
