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Sorcha inhaled sharply as he teased her, pressing her clit against the root of his cock. Her hips snapped down, rhythm lost, and Orek’s grip tightened.
Sorcha threw back her head and cried, impaling herself on his pulsing cock. He met it with his own roar, fingers sinking hard enough into her flesh to bruise.
On a final thrust, Orek pumped deep inside her and came, filling her beyond fullness.
“I’m not a human man. I may not be full orc-kin, either. But all of me is yours, Sorcha. I won’t leave you. Never.”
Sorcha could only hum in agreement as he made his way down her body and feasted. The excitement and nerves bled away under his tongue and touches, and for a long while, and hopefully the rest of their days, she let him show her exactly what it meant to be mate-bonded.
bowls of foul things Sorcha called olives,
“You’ve just never shown a real interest in anyone that way before. Not for keeping, anyway.” “I know. I hadn’t found the right one.”
“What are your intentions with my daughter?”
Even if that worry was unfounded. “To be hers,” Orek answered. “However she needs.”
It was Sorcha who was quickest this time. Rounding on Jerrod, where he stood sneering beside his father, Sorcha closed the distance and smacked him across the face. The sound echoed in the hall.
“Shut your mouth,” she growled at him, “and don’t you dare degrade what’s happened to those women captured and sold to orcs. They were taken and forced. Exactly what you wanted to happen to me.”
“Those women deserve our empathy and help. Not insult. So don’t you dare blame their fates on them by calling them that.”
you know, I am orc-slut. I’ve ached for his green cock, begged for it—because it’s mine. He’s mine. Orek is good and noble and everything you aren’t. If that makes me orc-slut, then fine, I am. Gladly.”
“First, Jerrod shall be sent to the Ward to serve with the wardens there. Hopefully they can teach him to heal rather than hate and put others before himself.”
“He shall forfeit his claim to the Darrowlands. In his place, Aislinn will be your heir and the next Lady Darrow.”
That big hand trailed over her hip and thigh to run over her quim possessively. His fingers slid through her growing slick, drawing another moan. “And this cunt is mine,” he growled against her lips.
“These are mine.” He sucked her breast through the nightgown, teasing the nipple with his tongue until she writhed beneath him.
“Are you aching for my green cock, mate?” he rumbled, voice gone low and deeper. Orek slid his cock through her slick, teasing her nub with the underside.
That big head notched at her entrance, and then Orek was above her, the muscles of his arms cast in sharp relief as he pushed inside. The burn was exquisite, demanding her attention, and Sorcha gasped and groaned at his steady invasion, not stopping until he was seated to the hilt.
When Orek went to lift off of her, Sorcha made a noise of protest and enticed him to stay by clenching around his cock, still buried deep. She’d claimed it in front of everyone and she wanted more.
She’d spoken before of all that she did—it was just…he thought perhaps everyone in her family did just as much. They all certainly did something with their days, but not half as much as Sorcha, it seemed to Orek.
As Sorcha worked with the horses, mucked their stalls, consulted with the grooms, tended the vegetable garden, walked the east border to check for broken fences, and moved the goats from the west field into the stable for the night, the rest of the family did…
The family accepted his help even more readily than Sorcha did—but she used the time to take on more work, more projects, more duties. There weren’t enough hours in the day for all she’d set herself to doing, and she chastised herself for not getting to everything.
And he told her of the odd things, how they’d come across eviscerated rabbits and birds strung up by their legs on branches. It disturbed Calum, and Sorcha too, but she said perhaps it was a bear preparing for hibernation. Orek had never seen a bear string up birds, but there was no other explanation, so he let it rest.
“I want you to be happy, my mate. To find joy. You can’t do that when you’re running yourself ragged.” “I know,” she said. And she did know—but there was always something to be done, and if she could do it, fix it, make it better, she just…
Her family came to her for everything, yes, but for much more than simply work. They needed her. But his mate wasn’t an ever-replenishing spring. Her spirits would inevitably run dry, likely before she ever knew it.
He knew too that the time they took to be together was also a draw on Sorcha. He understood the hypocrisy of his greediness, that Sorcha standing up to her family would mean more time not just for herself but for him as well. Orek didn’t fool himself that his reasons weren’t somewhat selfish.
Silas’s tongue had been sliced perfectly down the middle into the ugly likeness of a snake’s. A favorite punishment of Krul’s for those who returned with a mouthful of excuses but emptyhanded.
Silas hissed a laugh. “I’ve come this far, runt. Tracked you all the way here. Took weeks. Left a trail, too. Oh yessss.” He laughed again as horror gripped Orek in a vicious fist.
His heart stuttered—is Krul on his way even now?
Orek had something much more important hardening his fists and landing his blows. He threatens my mate. He deserves to die.
He rolled again and kicked, his boot meeting flesh and bone. Something gave, the joint crunching, and Silas howled.
Orek bounded to his feet, letting the hatchet fly. It sank into Silas’s back, and the tracker arched, arms flung wide in a rictus of agony.
Orek jerked the hatchet from Silas’s back, dragging another snarl of pain. The blade flashed as it swept across Silas’s neck, blood spurting and steaming from the open wound.
Orek kicked Silas to his back and fell upon him, driving his knife into the tracker’s chest. Silas clutched uselessly at Orek’s arms, claws digging into his leathers.
Skin and chest muscle had been split apart, baring glossy red organs that sat still in the cage of white ribs. He stared at the heart, sliced almost in two, daring it to beat.
Cruel, vicious, stupid bastards, coming after his mate, thinking they could threaten his mate! They just couldn’t let him go, forget her and keep to their miserable lives in those damned mountains—no, they had to reach their fucking fingers all the way across the land to try and snatch his mate! Orek wouldn’t have it. They wouldn’t have her. Not his mate, his, she was his. Not my mate. Never my mate.
He hitched her higher to free his cock, pressing the hot bar of it to her needy, dripping quim. They both shuddered as his cock slid through her slick, the flared head catching on her clit.
With a rumbling growl, he notched that fat cock at her entrance and let her sink down on him. Sorcha’s mouth opened on a silent cry, the burn of his invasion so good, and he sucked her lower lip into his mouth to nip and soothe.
She was practically dangling, pressed down flush to his hips, impaled on his cock.
Orek’s thrusts were measured but brutal, filling her up beyond full.
Her body tensed with release, but Orek drove himself inside again, again, through it all, keeping her pleasure on the edge of pain.
With a hiss, Orek slammed their hips together and came, filling her impossibly fuller. His spend made a mess of her thighs, and she felt it slipping along her legs and backside.
But her halfling gave no quarter, his tongue swirling and teasing at her clit until she filled his waiting mouth with a gush of slick. He rumbled in approval, two fingers spearing her to pet at that place inside that made her vision go white.
Sorcha moaned as his cock ran along the seam between her legs, from clit to ass and back again. He soaked himself in her before pushing inside, his rumbling purr making her quake.
He rocked them together, growling to her how his cock glistened with her slick each time he pulled back, how he loved watching the way the globes of her backside bounced with every thrust, how good she took him every time. How beautiful and perfect and his she was.
Whatever must have happened out there in the woods, it rattled him. Sorcha was content to let her mate soothe it away with his purrs and kisses and thrusting cock.
Sorcha sighed happily as his arms slipped around her and she was enveloped in his warmth. They were sticky with sweat and spend, but she didn’t care, glorying in the heavy scent of their lovemaking and the press of his skin to hers. One of his big hands slid over her flank to draw her leg up over his hip. His cock, still impossibly hard, glided inside, and her muscles held on in a tired but welcoming grip.
He didn’t move further, just lay with her, filling her up. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, up to her ear where he whispered, “Sleep, my heart.”
“Keep her safe, darrah.” And he placed the kit beside his mate in the bed before drawing the furs around them. He allowed himself only one more taste of her, running his nose along her neck and kissing her brow. “You are my heart,” he whispered to her. Then Orek pulled away, slipping from the room without looking back.
