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He collapses next to me and pulls me toward him, my back to his front. His fingers trace lightly over my skin, claws sheathed, and I shiver, even those little touches feeling like too much after the teasing he put me through.
When I am finally capable of speech again, I say, voice hoarse, “I had no idea that orcs could do that with just theirsibilance.”
Behind me, he quietly laughs, his hand resting possessively on my thigh. “Few can. Mysibilanceis stronger than any orc I’ve ever met, a gift of my mother’s heritage. The siren’slureand the orc'ssibilancemarry well together.”
“Does that mean that you can scream like a siren as well?” I shiver at the thought.
He shakes his head. “I’ve never done a death scream. Perhaps that is just because I’ve never had to; my skill with my blade is deadly enough. But I don’t think that is one of the gifts I inherited. Just my version oflure.”
“At least she did not leave you with nothing, then.”
I feel, rather than see, Verrick grow serious again and regret my words instantly. Why did I say that? My only excuse is that Istill feel addled and lust-drunk.
But then he replies, “Yes, though she didn’t want me, I still have her gifts. I suppose I should thank her for that.”
“You do not need to thank her for anything,” I retort, turning around so that our fronts are pressed together and I stare into my lover’s eyes. “You are the one that made something of yourself and mastered your gifts. Where they come from is of little consequence.”
He stares back at me, his eyes again inscrutable, then gives me a sweet, chaste kiss.
“Sleep now, little one,” he says. “It’s been a long day, and you were right: with these wounds I’m going to need rest.”
Already my eyelids are growing heavy, even as he says the words. Our game tonight took a toll on my body.
So, in my lover’s arms, and well-fucked, I fall asleep.
Chapter 18
Verrick
The morning comes swiftly after bouts of unfulfilling sleep. The soreness in my side plagues me and I suspect Pellia was right when she said that I shouldn’t have fucked her in my condition. But I have no regrets, even as the wound distracts me all night. It probably opened during the end of our game when I pounded into her sweet cunt with abandon.
I do not mind the sleeplessness. Instead, I hold Pellia in my arms as she twitches and murmurs in her sleep, dreaming deeply. At one point she sleepily mumbles, “Eggs for that price? It’s robbery . . .” before turning and snuggling deeper into my side. I could watch her for hours and never be bored. But soon I feel it is close to dawn and time to rise and prepare for our departure.
Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping beauty, I extricate myself from the bed. I stretch, feeling the pain of my wounds as I move through my normal routine. I don’t even wince, however, even as they make their complaints known. My tolerance for pain is high, and I have been trained by my father to never show pain. Showing pain puts you in a position of vulnerability and can mean your death on the battlefield.
Instead, I wordlessly change my bandages, amused at how much cloth Pellia used to cover me. She is obviously not trained in healing, although I enjoyed her ministrations and fussingover me. With clean bandages and a liberal amount of healing tincture to stave off infection spread over the wounds, I exit the room and head downstairs.
It’s still dark as I enter the common room, though the light of a fire glows in the kitchen, the innkeeper’s wife already up to cook breakfast for their unexpected guests. Silently, I exit and find Friza and my orcs already outside, quietly preparing the caravan to leave.
I address Friza, keeping my voice low. “How goes the watch? Anything to report?”
The orcress shakes her head. “It was quiet. The wolves didn’t follow us. I think they attacked the caravan because they were desperate. The bodies of those we killed looked skinny, weak. Mayhap there is something affecting their hunting in the Dense Wood. They were probably after our supplies.”
Snorting, I say, “If only werewolves weren’t so stubborn about keeping their independence. If they were a part of Adrik, they could apply for the supplies and I’m sure with Pellia’s bleeding heart, she would send them stores quickly. In fact, if they had come to us in their humanoid form and asked, Pellia probably would have given them what we have left.”
Friza looks amused. “Expounding on the virtues of your mate? So soon after running away from her because you couldn’t trust that she was as she appeared.”
“She’s not my mate,” I growl.
My second shrugs. “Semantics. She will be, I’m sure, when you are through stubbornly resisting the Instinct.”
Is that what I'm doing? I thought I had given in to it, but I think about it for a moment. Pellia as my mate, my bite on her shoulder, forever in my life and my bed. Instead of the panic I expect, a sense of peace settles over me. My Mating Instinct purrs, pleased at the hypothetical scenario.
But now is not the time to be thinking of such things. I banish my daydreams and say, changing the subject, “Gather all the supplies and wake the humans. We should leave soon if we want to get to Grimblton by noon.”
Friza laughs. “Oh yes, wouldn’t want to be late toGrimblton.” She says the town name meaningfully and I send her a sharp look. We still don’t know who is listening,howthey are listening, and we are supposed to be in the dark about the trap. She merely shrugs again and wanders off to obey my orders.
I glance back at the inn, up to the rooms where the windows are dark, my thoughts once again straying to Pellia. To her sleeping form, naked in the blankets. Her hair will be wild again after another night of forgetting her silk wrap, and she’ll have to spend extra time fixing it with her oils and creams. I can imagine her dismay when she awakens and sees herself in the mirror, and I allow my lips to curl slightly at the thought.
