But Geva was whipping her head back and forth, he was supposed to be safe but he wasn’t, he wasn’t, he’d mocked her and humiliated her and he’d —
And then he’d swept her forward against him, into him, folding her tight into his strong warm arms. And his big hand was stroking her head, her hair, petting her, again and again and again.
“I did not wish — to startle you,” he breathed, his voice thick. “I only wished to tell you, I —”
Geva’s body had slightly sagged against him, but she was still trembling all over, her breaths shuddering shallow, as she waited for him to continue. But he didn’t, and somehow she sucked back enough air to form words, to speak.
“What,” she hissed at him. “That I’m not good enough for you? Too easy? Too cheap? Too greedy? Just the same as every other woman, apparently, even all those awful ones you lived with for all that time, the ones who used you, andhurtyou?”
She could feel Rathgarr’s breath catching, his body snapping rigid against her, his hand stilling against her hair. As if she’d again cut too close, gone too far, but in this moment she didn’t care, shedidn’t…
“Or maybe you’ve come to throw me another coin, and put me in my place,” she choked. “To remind me that I only have three weeks left to be here, to please you, while you keep all your real plans secret from me. Or maybe you’ll remind me that you’d never actuallywanta woman like me, or sons with me, even after I was the one who went and made sure those sons would never,everhappen! Because I knew that’s whatyouwanted!”
Her voice had gone shaky and shrill, even muffled like this into his shoulder, and she could feel his sharp, full-body shudder against her, his chest fighting to draw in breath. His hands squeezing her closer, hard enough to push her own breath from her lungs.
“I — I ken, poppet,” he said, into her hair. “I ken. I am — sorry.”
Geva shook her head against him, felt his hands clutching tighter in return, his claws gently pricking through her shift. “I ought not to have said this,” he said. “I did not — think. To speak of sons amidst this, I cannot — I cannot bear this. Even in jest, in our play-acting. But it was yet — wrong, to strike back at you, as I did.”
Geva didn’t reply, couldn’t, and she could feel him dragging in another breath, his hand again stroking fervently at her hair. “You are not cheap, or easy,” he whispered. “And if aught is truth, it is that you are too good for me, ach? You have been such a gift to me, all this day. All these many days. And should you not wish for my coin as thanks, mayhap you shall accept — ach. Mayhap…”
He’d drawn away a little, his eyes oddly shifting on her face — and then, without warning, he… sank down. To his knees. Kneeling, on the stone floor, here in this damned latrine, his head tilted up, his eyes shimmering on hers in the lamplight. And as Geva gaped down at him, unthinking, unmoving, he put his hand to the hem of her shift, and began slowly, purposefully sliding it up.
“Mayhap this,” he murmured, so soft, his breath a warm kiss of air against her bare hip. “I ken this shall please you, ach?”
There was truly no way to move, to breathe, to follow this — at least, until he slid the shift up a little higher, and leaned in closer, closer. Until his eyes fluttered closed, and — he kissed her.Kissedher.There.
Geva almost lost her footing again, her body staggering back toward the wall behind her, but Rathgarr’s big hands were firm on her hips, holding her steady, safe. And then even guiding her a little backwards, propping her carefully against the wall, spreading her legs a little apart…
And then, oh hell, he kissed her again. His mouth soft and hot and impossibly sweet against that curve of her, not even seeming to notice the thick hair, the certain remnants of his own mess. And instead, his kiss was deepening, his lashes fluttering as he again glanced upwards, and — Geva gasped, nearly staggered again — he touched her with histongue. His long, slick, sinuous tongue, snaking deeper down her crease, shattering out impossible flares of heat with every soft, slippery stroke.
“Oh,” Geva choked, on another fervent, full-body shudder, her eyes shocked wide and disbelieving on his face. On where he was still looking up at her beneath those long lashes, as that mouth kept gently kissing, licking, caressing. Apologizing. Making amends. Making, perhaps… a trade.
I traded pleasure for food and shelter and coin, until they tired of me, or I of their demands.
And no, Geva couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear it, and she shoved him off, stumbled away, rubbed her hands painfully at her hot, sweaty face. No. She wasn’t. She couldn’t.
But when she dropped her hands, Rathgarr was still there, still on his damned knees on the floor, still studying her with strange, shimmering, heavy-lashed eyes. “It is not good, then?” he said, sounding almost… hurt. “You do not like it?”
Geva groaned aloud, and gave a furious, bracing shake of her head. “Gods, Rathgarr,” she gulped, and suddenly she felt in stark, sudden accord with Kesst, back in that corridor. “I don’t want your pity, or your payment, or whatever the hell this is! Damn it” — she dragged down another breath — “you just compared me to those women you lived with, who only wanted this from you. You can’t really think that’s whatIwant from you now, too? That I want to make you relive something like that?!”
Rathgarr’s shoulders rose and fell, those lashes still fluttering long and low over his eyes, and Geva’s own traitorous eyes felt caught on them, on his flushed-looking cheeks, his visibly wet mouth, his full, plump lips.
“No, my sweet,” he murmured, as his hand reached back toward her, curved gently around her calf. “I ken you do not expect or demand this of me. And this is why I wish to do it, ach?”
Geva was again caught short, her eyes frozen on his face. On where he looked so earnest, so serious, suddenly, so… vulnerable.
“You have not once asked for this,” he said, still so quiet. “Even though it should only be natural, for an orc to bear his mate’s fresh scent on his mouth. Most of all if he could not please her thecustomaryway, ach?”
Oh. Geva still couldn’t speak, her thoughts hitching, catching, twisting — and his hand on her calf slid a little higher, circling around her thigh. “Instead, you have always given,” he continued. “Even when I have not deserved this. You ask me how you can please me. How you can help me. And then, you have done this, again and again. You keep granting me all the power over you, and” — his voice faltered, his eyes shimmering on her face — “it is all the sweeter when you fight me for it first, ach?”
Oh. Wait. So he was saying… he really did like this? This entire… arrangement that they’d made, between them? The coin, and the commands, and the challenges?
And wait. Wait. Was… the rest of it part of that, too? The three weeks? Maybe even the secrets? The revenge?
But no, no, surely not… surely? But Geva still couldn’t stop looking at his flushed, watching face, perhaps seeing him with entirely new eyes. No matter what else he said, what else he did, he truly did like this. What they had. What they’d made together. He likedher.
And even if she should have been furious, suddenly there was something almost like eagerness, likehope, rippling up her spine. He liked this. And yes, if she was honest, she liked this, too. Too much. And maybe. Maybe…
