Page 14 of Protective Pucking Orc

I had to get to her.

Had to get to Mrs. Jourdan. Had to grab Rosa and run. The bus station was two blocks from our apartment. I could be on a Greyhound before he even realized I was gone. Denver. Albuquerque. Anywhere but here.

No matter how much I loved Bramblewood, it wasn’t safe anymore.

He’ll follow you. Not just to Denver; you’ll never make it to the bus station. Once he follows you to Rosa, he’ll just take her.

A hole opened in my stomach. I didn’t know what to do, and I couldn’t think. Couldn’t concentrate. I’d beaten him once, and if I could just get some time, I could figure out how to beat him again. But everything hurt so much…

If I stayed, he’d hurt me again. If I ran to my daughter, he’d hurt her.

Dios.

My stomach heaved again, and Anthony’s sharklike smile was haloed by smoke.

I couldn’t let him take Rosa. Couldn’t let Degas do to her what Anthony had done to me.

I took a step away from him, then another, watching him warily. He merely stood there in the slush and grinned, watching me.

Waiting.

He wants you to run. Wants you to lead him to Rosa.

But I had to get away.

Another step, and when he didn’t follow, I whirled around, clutching my bag and my injured wrist against my chest. As I broke into a shambling sort of run, I heard him begin to laugh.

“That’s it, Sofia!” he called from behind me. “Run! Run to my daughter, so I know where she is hiding!”

Chapter Four

Dakvaar

I’d spent the rest of Sunday staring at the walls of my home.

Don’t get me wrong; it was a very nice home, one I’d designed myself, with huge picture windows that showed gorgeous views of the Colorado mountains I’d grown up in, a world away. It was organized and precise, and my sanctuary…but the walls weren’t that interesting.

It’s just that, after spending Sunday morning with the most precious kitling, and then leaving her and her mother because that’s what was necessary to keep from becoming a bother to them, nothing I could do seemed remotely interesting.

I wandered from room to room in my house, picking up several books and putting them back down when I couldn’t concentrate. When I realized I was thinking about how I would change the furniture to fit Sofia and Rosa into my life, I knew I had to do something.

So I cleaned the entire house, top to bottom. Who knew there were that many baseboards in the place? Whenever my Kteer began to growl, urging me to take action, to go back to the café and claim Sofia as my Mate, I scrubbed harder, until my back ached, my knees were sore, and the damned baseboards gleamed.

Next, I cleaned the air vents and the blinds in the two smaller bedrooms—one had a guest bed, and one was my library. My bedroom and the main den didn’t have blinds, because I preferred to allow nature in, even in the winter. In fact, Sunday afternoon I had quite a few windows open, because when my breath was fogging the air, at least it was too cold to get a hard on.

By the time the sun set, and I was ready to for dinner—despite my sweet tooth, I did try to eat healthy on the weekends, and tonight was grilled salmon—I was tired and sore and irritable, although I could probably blame my Kteer for that last part.

So after dinner, I poured myself a large glass of wine and went out to the back porch. Here was my favorite part of the house: a special-order hot tub, large enough to fit my frame. I brushed the snow away from the candles ringing the porch railing and lit them, then stripped out of my clothing and climbed in, sighing in almost-contentment as the hot water closed over my aching muscles.

I rested my head on the cushions and locked my gaze on the mountains, their snow gleaming white in the moonlight. I was halfway through an audiobook I could queue up to listen to out here, but it just didn’t seem right tonight. I shifted, allowing one jet to connect with my lower back, and had a flash of Sofia out here.

Sofia, smiling shyly as she stepped into the water with me. Holding my hand, shivering in delight. Her nipples pebbling in the cold—would they be large, to match the size of her breasts? Would their color match her lips?

My mouth pooled with saliva, and my palms itched to trace her delicious curves.

With a groan, my hand closed around my cock, stroking it slowly beneath the water.

Sofia, here in my hot tub. Sofia, in my home, in my space. Allowing me to care for her, allowing me to provide for her.