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Alright. I suppose it won't hurt and, short of me tying him up again and dragging him through the forest, the fastest way to get on the move again is to entertain his sudden nonsense.
I step forward, taking out my left knife. The move could be seen as threatening, but Marvik stays still, no hint of fear in his eyes or scent. I put up my other hand and sheathe my claws, using the soft tips to tilt his head so I can begin.
His eyes widen slightly. “I did not know they did that.”
I start the first stroke, firm but gentle, the razor-sharp edge of my blade cutting a smooth swathe in its wake. “My claws? You thought they must always be out?” How does he think orcs have sex? While giving each other bloody, painful gashes?
“They always have been, the whole time we have been together.”
“You have never given me reason to be soft.” I do not mean the words to sound accusing, but as they hang in the air between us, they are.
Marvik is silent, and I keep working. I tilt his head back and work on getting the stray hairs from his neck. He is looking up at the sky when he says, “I suppose that is true. I’ve not been a goodAsh’ka, have I?”
I stop working and look at him incredulously. “Nowyou believe that you are myAsh’ka? After everything?” I leaveeverythingunspoken; the escape attempts, the tying up, the threats. All the ways I have behaved shamefully as anAsh’ka, though Marvik did not give me a choice.
“I believe that you believe it. Though I am not sure about soulmates, I am smart enough to admit that there is a lot about the world that I don’t understand. Fate and magic and gods are some of them. So who's to say that you aren’t right?”
He is overplaying his hand. He’s being too agreeable now, and it just makes me suspicious. There is a subtle shift in his scent, the first sign that he is lying. Now I am almost certain he has a plan to get rid of me and continue his quest for revenge. What that plan is, I cannot say, but I know it is there. Telling me what I want to hear, enticing me and keeping me off-kilter must all be a part of his plan.
So I don’t acknowledge his words or show the yearning that they have created in me. Instead I just say, “I’m about to do your upper lip. No more talking.”
The silence yawns between us. I finish my task, brusk but gentle. His face is clean now, his strong jawline once again visible. He looks better this way, more himself, like that day at Fort Attis when I first saw him, brawny and impressive. I knew even then, I realize, that he was mine. It’s why I didn’t want anyone else to fight him.
As I look, I see that I have nicked him slightly. Without thinking, I reach out and brush his face with my hands, my claws still sheathed, and let my healing magic flow into him. His body welcomes it, recognizing my magic and eagerly moving to serve it. My magic has gotten stronger these past few months, as I have used it so often. I direct the healing to the cut, and it vanishes before my eyes. Marvik’s eyes close and he lets out a little sigh of pleasure.
“It feels good when you do that.”
I pull my hand away from him as if his skin burns me. The scenefeels intimate. Too intimate to be having with someone I know plans to betray me. His eyes open and search mine.
“What’s wrong?”
I cannot put into words what’s wrong. That I want to touch him too much? That him liking my healing feels . . . flattering? That I am more sure than ever before that he will stab me in the back when he gets a chance? I will not give him more ways to hurt me when that inevitably happens.
So I say none of that out loud. “We have wasted too much time,” I say instead, my voice a little shaky, betraying my thoughts. “We need to get moving. Sunrise is not far away.”
Marvik looks at me, a searching look. He captures my eyes with his and I worry he will see the panic and heartache I am feeling. Whatever he sees, though, makes him rise from his perch. He bends down and splashes some water on his face, washing away the stray soap and hair that still sticks to him. Then he puts his tunic back on and turns to me.
“Alright, let’s go.”
Chapter 9
Marvik
By the time we reach the edge of the Deep Wood, the sun has risen and I am exhausted. As captain of the Blue Guard, I was always at the king’s side. I am not in the habit anymore of doing long midnight marches like when I was merely an army footsoldier. And after idling so long in that damned cave, I am even more out of shape than I thought. But at least I kept moving the entire night, save when we stopped by the pond, and made it out by the deadline.
I stop as we exit the forest and stretch, feeling some sweat trickle down my spine. My tunic is still wet from washing it, probably in no small thanks to my perspiration. I must look terrible, even after my bath last night.That bath. A calculated move on my part. I want to keep her guessing, while subtly making her think she is getting what she wants, so that she doesn’t see my next move coming. I’m not sure that I entirely succeeded and might have made things more complicated in the bargain.
Enticed, she said.Enticed, like her saying the word hadn’t sent a bolt of lust straight to my cock. And the way she stared . . . it would be lying to say that I had not felt desire. When she was so close, her firm but tender touch moving my head while she shaved me . . . I had hardened slightly in my trousers. I had been glad the orcress hadn’t looked down and seen the evidence of my arousal.
Could I truly betray her? When we get to town, could I turn her over to orcs to be humiliated and banished, all so that I could escape? I have to, don’t I? She will start killing innocents if I don’t. Betrayal is not in my nature; I have always done my duty and my loyalty is second to none, and I owe the orcress a life debt. True, she was also the reason I was dying in the first place, but she gave up her position and turned her back on her country to save me. Still,Adalind’s death is an injustice that has to be addressed. I could not save her from Yorian, but I can get revenge against Rognar. No matter how long it takes or who I have to betray.
The orcress comes up to me and says, “You did well. I wasn’t sure that you would be able to get us out in time.”
Her words sting my pride a little and distract me from my inner turmoil. Still, I do not think she meant them unkindly, just as a blunt observation. “My thanks . . . I think.”
She just stretches as well and doesn’t respond. I am momentarily distracted by the graceful way her muscles move and the way her small, pert breasts push into the air. The orcress almost catches me staring when she looks at me and says, “We should keep moving. I want to get to shelter and—.”
Her words are interrupted by a growl, a flash of fur streaking in my peripheral vision. Instinctually, I tackle the orcress, throwing us both to the ground as a huge wolf sails over us, jaws snapping where my head used to be. I roll up to a crouched, ready position and whirl on our attacker.
