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Shona stood smirking at him, her hair in long braids falling around her shoulders.
She was wearing the traditional Orcbind costume of a silk shirt, tiny leather bodice and a little leather skirt.
And in her hand, she held a beaded cudgel.
The mating cudgel.
It was the costume his mom had kept in his room, to remind him of the time when he would finally find a mate. Gods, he had almost forgotten about it.
She looked so beautiful it almost cut off his ability to breathe.
Wielding the cudgel, she gave him a coquettish little smile. “Ready to fight me?”
“Shona. Oh, my love,” he got out thickly, then smirked. “Did you just hit me with the cudgel?”
She nodded and bit her lip, her eyes full of mirth. She swooshed the cudgel in the air a couple of times, then tossed it up and caught it in her other hand. Did a little victory dance, one step back, one forward, a jump to the left and then to the right. “I did it!”
A grin slashed his face. “Who taught you that?”
“Katrina.” He could tell she was bursting with pride.
Tor burst out laughing, and tried to grab her.
But she jumped away. And then, squatting down, her bright blue eyes dancing, she dodged him as he lunged at her once more.
“Right, that’s it. Game on,’ he growled.
He knew what to do. Every orc male was taught the ritual moves or Orcbind at their coming of age.
He let out the ancient mating cry. “Gabrani-ha-milav-lash!” Come to me, love of my life.
She shook her head, her braids dancing. “Ca-na-fin-Orc-mina.” Catch me first, Orc-mine.
Holy goddess. She’d even learned the words.
Hell yeah, he was up for this.
He jumped to his feet, but she was faster, nimbly clambering down the rocks toward the water.
He was also defenseless. But then, that was how it was. The woman had the cudgel, keeping her mate at bay until she was ready to mate with him.
He let her get away. He could keep up, but that would spoil the game. Already he was aroused, the bar of his cock throbbing in his pants.
Damn the woman, she’d outdone him.
He ripped off his leather pants to expose the leather loincloth below. Just a beaded leather pouch for his cock really, on a thin G-string, the one traditional garment he’d allowed himself to wear today, knowing how quickly he’d need to strip when the time came.
When they came together it would be dynamite. He’d rip off her clothes, but have no time for his own. Better to be close to naked.
Wearing just the loincloth now, he gazed around. Damn, where was she?
Clambering closer to the water’s edge, he saw her darting between some palm trees. He pursued her, but she jumped, agile as a nymph, from rock to rock and then disappeared. As he ran after her, a little foot came out and tripped him.
He sprawled on the rock and suddenly she was on top of him, her braids tumbling into his mouth, laughing and kissing him and beating him around the shoulders with the cudgel. She could have gone harder and he’d be fine, but it was her first time with a cudgel. She was doing brilliantly. Her breasts popped out, two ripe nipples dancing in front of his greedy eyes.
Now was the moment when he had to overpower her, lightheartedly, as part of the traditional act.
He still felt a moment’s hesitation, but then the little demon hit him across the face with the cudgel—hard enough to hurt.
