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“I don’t need to press the sequence,” she says.
Jendrick smiles indulgently. “I know, child. That’s because you’re special. But you will be meeting the Goddess early if you pass through the portal without assistance. And that would make Bard very unhappy, not to mention making our warlord furious. I would likely lose my head.” He says all this dryly while Melody plays with a long lock of red-gold hair and fidgets from foot to foot.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I won’t pass through the portal. It’s just so pretty.”
Her words hold wistfulness and innocence.
“Good girl.” Jendrick nods approvingly. “But for the sake of my heart, and for the sake of Bard, and Jasmine, who you love well, I suggest we do not go near the portal but hold Bard’s hand when it is working like that.”
“Okay,” she agrees.
She’s an agreeable child and even-tempered, although mischievous on occasion, and her sweet, beguiling nature could soften the hardest of hearts. She makes me think about children, of having whelps of my own with Jasmine.
Bard stands attentively nearby, watching as Melody and Jendrick converse. The scholar goes over what he wishes to do today, which allows my mind freedom to think about my mate… To think about some distant future when her belly might grow ripe with child… To wonder about this imaginary child we have created and that we might one day meet.
My beast informs me that we need to stick our cock in her before that can happen. I growl at him to keep his insights to himself. I know how breeding is done. I’ve seen it enough. I’m not ignorant of the mechanisms involved.
Only Jasmine is so tiny there, and I’ve yet to work out how I might work even the tip of my cock inside. My beast tells me that I’m an idiot and that if a baby the size of a watermelon can come out, she can sure assuredly take my cock.
Maybe something magical happens when a woman births a watermelon-sized baby? Maybe the Goddess is involved? I’m not familiar with childbirth or how the screaming newborns come out of such a small, tight passage, which, in Jasmine’s case, I can barely fit my fingers in.
Maybe the Goddess could similarly help with her taking my cock?
I feel my cock stiffen, which is inappropriate and terrifying enough that my reaction makes it immediately softens again. Sweat breaks out across my brow as I glance across at Jasmine, concerned she might have noticed. She is busy working and has her eyes on her sewing, but then, as if she feels my eyes upon her, her head lifts and she bestows on me a shy, beautiful smile.
I never found humans attractive before Jasmine. They were strange, annoying little creatures, always bickering and shouting at one another, getting emotional about everything. They caused me no end of trouble, for I was responsible for managing them.
Jasmine is not like other humans. She has a calm presence and is natural in her ways with Melody, has infinite patience with her, and finds joy in caring for her, fetching the child’s favorite treats from the cook, and letting her plait her hair.
She would make a fine mother.
No, I’m not going to think about that lest my cock stiffen again.
Lost in these thoughts, I’m ill-prepared when the door opens, and the warlord himself enters, accompanied by his guards.
* * *
Jasmine
After Melody gave us all a fright by walking over to the portal, I find a place to sit out of the way and work on my mending. With Melody occupied by the work she does with Jendrick, these events are often boring, and I prefer to sit and do the sewing.
If they have need of me, I will be called upon, which is usually to collect food and drinks from the kitchens. I don’t mind either way and prefer to keep my fingers busy, allowing my mind to float elsewhere.
Today, I alternate between thinking about Doug’s arousal before he stormed out of our room and worrying about Trent. I’m distracted when the big double entry doors open, and an imposing orc sweeps in.
All the tiny hairs across my skin rise to attention. He is important. I think I know instantly that he is the warlord even before Jendrick bows graciously and says, “My liege.”
I freeze, not sure what the protocol of a bondservant is—wondering whether I should scramble to my feet and bow as Doug does or keep very still and hope no one notices me.
I elect to shift subtly to my knees and, with my head bowed, keep very still as I peer under my lashes at the Blighten warlord. His name is Rignor, and what I’m surprised by is the paleness of his skin. It’s gray but with an unusual mottling of white that almost seems to glow. His hair is long, dark, and luxurious, while the battle garb he wears is fine, as one might expect of a kingly orc. Many orcs favor clubs or shorter war axes, but Rignor wears a sword complete with a gem-topped pommel.
He is also monstrous. Perhaps the largest orc I’ve ever seen, save for Doug.
I try not to stare as his guards span out into the room like there might be a threat here. One of them sneers at me as he notices me kneeling but soon turns away and dismisses me.
“So this is the child,” Rignor says in a deep, resonating voice that carries in the stone portal room.
“Yes, my liege.” If Jendrick bowed any deeper, he would likely topple over. The warlord makes an upward motion with his hands, impatient.
