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“Okay,” she says, and I see the droop in her shoulders. It is the dead of night, the bears are gone, and we are all exhausted. Her eyes search mine. “Thank you, Doug. Thank you for bringing her back. I will be close by if you need me.”
As she leaves, I draw the flap closed and tie it off, lending some privacy while I tend to my little human. It is dark inside and warmer with the tarp closed against the breeze.
When I turn back, I find Jasmine watching me.
I still.
She does not scream, only blinks up at me before whispering, “Thank you, Doug.”
Her sweet voice is little more than a croak. I take the water, lifting her head to help her as she gulps some down.
“C-cold.”
Her gown is sodden. Her body is chilled. I am hot, and she needs my body heat. I strip off my clothes, mindful of keeping my deformity out of her sight. I do not want to touch her, yet I know that I must. She is weak and could barely lift her head to drink the water. She only stares at me as I lift her dress up. I wish I had words, could tell her all I feel, could explain how I’m only seeking to keep her safe and warm… That I will not touch her beyond what I must do to rid her of this wet dress, even though my beast roars that we shouldclaim.
She doesn’t struggle. Maybe she is too weak. I don’t like the thought of that. But I do like the way she snuggles against me, her eyes drifting shut on a contented sigh. I draw the blanket over both of us. With her head against my chest, I feel new emotions swell up inside me, a great outpouring of deep gratitude that she trusts me. I draw her small body closer, offering her my warmth. She settles right down to sleep, and her breathing evens out.
I do not sleep. I gaze upon her in wonder, stroke my finger softly over her smooth cheek, and pet her hair. In all my life, I have never known a peace like this. Even my beast is content now that her skin is pressed against ours.
ChapterSix
Jasmine
The danger is past, yet the terror lingers in my mind. At the same time, I’m so exhausted such that the simple act of breathing leaves me weary. Doug is gentle as he strips my gown from me. It is sodden and smells of the bear, and I am grateful to be rid of it.
I don’t have the capacity to fear what Doug might do. He has saved me. I feel I am his now, in the most profound of ways. With my cheek pressed against his chest and a blanket draped over me, I am enveloped in warmth, save for the floor of the wagon, which is wooden and cold. I press closer, seeking more of his warmth.
He grunts at my weak wriggling and, with a huff that makes me think of exasperation, he lifts me, placing my smaller body over his. Here I drape over my living cushion, my legs spread wide around his waist. I am conscious on a distant level that this is a shameful position to be in, with my pussy spread open lewdly and pressed against his thick belly. Only, I’m tired, and he issowarm, and I care for naught else.
His arms make a cradle around me. I feel safe. He does nothing inappropriate. With one hand against my waist and the other wrapped around my shoulders, he holds me. After a time, he pets my hair. I feel his fingertips against my cheek.
My body responds to his touch, softening further, sinking against him.
I want him to do more.
He could take me if he wished. In any way he wished. I would give myself up gladly to this worthy mate.
I rub my cheek against his chest in a subtle invitation. We are in a wagon, cocooned together, and shut off from the world and the Blighten camp. As I listen to his heartbeat under my cheek, I drift in and out of sleep. He is a steady presence, a rock to which I cling.
The rain picks up again, muting the sounds from beyond the wagon as it beats steadily against the canvas roof. Time passes, and I grow restless, aware of his scent under my nose and how it invades me.
I do not want to be a bondservant.
I construct a new fantasy, one where it is not a handsome prince but a white orc who comes to my rescue. He takes me far away from here to a little village where we have a cottage and children of our own.
Where this magical village might be that would accept both a white orc and a human, I have no clue. For surely no such place exists outside of my dream.
I fidget again. As I move, the friction rouses my nipples to hardness, and the place between my legs feels needy and a little slick. His hand strays to the upper swell of my ass. His touch captures all my focus as I wonder if he will slide it lower.
My dream fades, and I become aware of my breath and how it takes an effort to keep it even.
His hand lowers, oh so slightly. A deep rumbling noise emanates from his chest, and all the little hairs on my body spring to attention. He squeezes very lightly on my ass, and my pussy clenches in response.
He exhales a heavy breath and squeezes again. His next sound is more of a moan, almost piteous, as though he is in pain. Am I... Am I causing him discomfort sprawled over him like this?
Just as I rouse myself to move, he rolls, caging my body in his arms, ensuring he moves the blanket with me until I am spread out over it on my back.
I freeze, then lift my lashes far enough to peek. My legs have fallen and are spread wide. Through the gloom, I see him staring at the juncture where my thighs meet.
