“Yes,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “We have a fortnight, before that law becomes truth.”
24
After Jule left, Gwyn couldn’t seem to stop pacing. Stalking from one side of the clinic to the other, over and over again, while her thoughts rattled ever-louder through her skull.
Her father was proceeding with that damned law. Pregnant women were already avoiding the help they desperately needed. They were already being targeted. They weredying. And in a fortnight, the situation would become even worse. Two weeks. Fourteendays.
And clearly, Joarr had known all this. He’d been fighting to deal with all this. And had he told Gwyn the extent of it? The urgency of it? No. No.No. Of course he hadn’t, because she hadn’t pushed it, she was so damnedstupid, and he was — he was —
Here. Now. Suddenly standing tall and taut before her, his arms crossed, as though he’d always been there, all this time.
Gwyn reeled backwards, cursing under her breath, and furiously wiped at the wetness pooling in her eyes. “I would rather,” she managed, “be alone right now. Please.”
But Joarr didn’t move, not beyond the sharp shake of his head, the flex of his black claws on his biceps. “No,” he said, voice tight. “I no leave you alone thus. No when you taste thus. No here.”
Gwyn gaped at him, at where his narrow eyes had flicked, brief but horribly telling, toward the workbench. Toward thetools. Toward the pointed steel scalpel, as though she would —
The craving surged through her thoughts in an almost staggering rush — gods, why hadn’t she thought of that before he’d come? — and there was the overpowering urge to shout at him, to rage at him, to weep. Anything to make him leave, so she could dash over to that scalpel, find some trace of relief, no matter how painful or futile —
“No,” Joarr hissed again, his eyes even narrower. “You no even try, woman. You find other way.”
Gwyn kept gaping at him, and it felt like the room was slowly spinning behind him, like the rage was flashing bright red behind her eyes. “You,” she gasped, “haveno rightto throw your orders at me. You have no right to judge me!”
“I nojudgeyou,” Joarr replied, his voice infuriatingly cool. “I ken you are wise woman. You find other way to face this rage, ach? To free this.”
And gods, it was like Gwyn could feel the candlewood, the sharp steel, scraping against her skin, dragging down her throat. “If you wouldlistento me,” she choked out, “and actually behonestwith me for once in your life, my rage will be justfine!”
She was hollering by the end, her hands in fists, her heartbeat screaming in her skull — and the utter bastard just kept looking at her like that, arms crossed, mouth pursed. “No,” he said, with enraging calm. “We seek other way.”
And before Gwyn could even find a reply, his hands snapped out toward her, grasped her by the waist, and swept her up onto the edge of the nearest examination table. And then — her cry of outrage scraped through the room — he shoved her knees apart with easy, familiar hands, and stepped close between them.
“What the hell,” Gwyn gasped, “are youdoing!”
But of course she knew what he was doing, she always gods-damned did, and the bastard had the sheer audacity tosmirkat her as he slid her skirts all the way up, exposing everything between her sprawled, trembling legs.
“You no ken?” he drawled at her, as he made a show of reaching down inside his own trousers, and pulling himself out. Already hard, full, and dripping, bobbing straight toward where her exposed, open heat was quivering, convulsing, craving…
“If you no wish for this,” he said, so cool, as he eased a little closer, “you say this, ach?”
But as he’d spoken, that smooth, gleaming head had just brushed against her, justthere, grazing her with its sweet slickness — and Gwyn’s harsh, desperate gasp was utter, broken betrayal. How typical was it that she still wanted this, so gods-damned much, from this completely aggravating asshole, who’d betrayed her, lied to her, kept the truth from her, manipulated her, again and again andagain—
But he was still waiting, the absolute prick, his brows raised, that smooth length shuddering, settling a little closer, finding its place. And gods curse it all, because even lost in the towering rage, she somehow found room to nod, quick and furious and ashamed. To say,yes.
“Wise woman,” Joarr purred, and ohhell, he was pressing forward. Easing himself inside, slow but certain, his eyes dropped to the sight, lashes fluttering against his cheek…
And oh, it felt like power, like ruin. Like a beautiful devastating curse, pouring her full of poisonous, deadly pleasure. Like this damned devious orc getting his way, again, again, again —
But then, it — stopped. He stopped, not even all the way in, and his eyes were back on hers again, brows still raised, while her traitorous, half-impaled body helplessly clamped and throbbed against him. Holding him there, wanting him, wanting this pain, wanting his poison to destroy her…
“Now speak,” he said, his voice a strange distant bell in the screeching mayhem of her brain. “What spark this. What she say to you.”
Gwyn gulped for air, flailed to find words — but there were none, not with him jutted up inside her like this, and stillspeaking. So cool, casual, so gods-damnedcalm.
“She say I speak false to you?” he continued, brows still raised, as he held himself there within her. “Or you no trust me? I am danger to you?”
Danger. Why was it so hard to think, to drag in air — but then Joarr sank in deeper. Slow, agonizing, utter destruction, until his groin was pressed tight against hers, his fullness finally buried all the way inside.
“Speak,” he hissed, darker this time. “She doubt me? Rebuke me?”
