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Hearing him call me “sweet” almost makes me snort in surprise, but I keep my composure and say, “That’s right.”
The guard merely smiles, not suspecting a thing. “Well, isn’t that nice? And you stopped in Portia on your way. If you were just there, did you meet my sister? Mira Fischer?”
Marvik shakes his head. “We must have just missed her. We’ve been on the road awhile, as you can imagine. It’s a long walk from Garden Manor to Orik.”
“Gods, you’re right. But I thought all orcs had one of those wolf-dragon things?”
“Warbeasts,” I supply. “And no, I don’t have one. I was in the infantry.” Again I think of Kava with a pang.
The guard nods sagely. “That makes sense. Well, I shouldn’t keep you out here all night. There’s been some werewolf attacks along this road recently, you know. I should get you both inside and close the gate.”
So this is where the werewolves attacked, like the werewolf Croninsaid. I think of the wolf leader, of his easy confidence and calm manner. I wonder why they were so desperate to attack humans and orcs? And did he send the gray wolf to attack us, or was that the action of a renegade?
Marvik offers, “It’s a big gate. Do you need help?”
“That's very kind of you. I wouldn’t say no.”
We step through the gate, and then Marvik helps to slam the heavy door in place. The guard then bars the door with a thick plank.
“The inn’s just down the road,” the guard says helpfully. “You can’t miss it. I can’t wait to tell my wife that I met a proper War Bride! Err, you know what I mean.”
“Thank you, friend,” says Marvik, taking my hand again. “Perhaps we’ll see you tomorrow before we leave.”
The guard merely waves and then heads into the guardhouse that is by the gate. Marvik keeps a hold on my hand and pulls me through the village. Portia is much smaller than Kingsbury, with small houses and a dirt road down its center. It reminds me of the exile village where I grew up. The one that was filled with other orcs that had Claimed their mates. It was poor and resources were scarce, but there was a lot of love and neighborly feeling.
We arrive at the inn, the only one in the village. It is small and obviously old. Nothing compared to The Fox and Thorn, but it is clean and well-kept. Firelight cheerfully winks from inside and I can hear the voices of patrons laughing. We step inside to find a room.
???
After finally extricating ourselves from curious well-wishers downstairs, once again I find myself alone in a room with Marvik with only one bed. The innkeeper even gave us a discounton the room with his compliments on ourmarriage.Fuck. I can’t risk sleeping in the same bed again. What if what happened this morning happens again? Things are made even more complicated by a tub of steaming water in the middle of the floor, a bath that was ordered by Marvik, costing extra precious coin. He spends like one used to having all the coin in the world.
Fucking pretty little rich boy.
“You can get in first,” Marvik is saying. “You weren’t able to bathe at the pond. I’m sure that you would like to.”
For all my derision at the waste of money, Iwouldlike to. I wouldloveto. Though I grew up poor, I was always clean and taken care of. After two months in the woods, I am filthy and hate it. But I also am feeling vulnerable at the thought of being naked in the same room as myAsh’ka.
“Can you step out?”
Marvik just shakes his head. “That would be suspicious. We’re supposed to be married, remember?”
“I remember. But I would rather bathe alone.”
The human just turns so his back is toward me. “I’ll stay turned around until you are done. Now hurry, the water is getting cold.”
“Bossy,” I mutter, but my eyes sidle to the bath. The water does look warm and inviting and it has been forever since I have done anything but wipe myself down with a rag. My eyes go back to Marvik. He is standing, almost at attention, like he is standing guard. As long as he stays in that position, there’s no way he can see me.
Fuck it. I take off my war clothes, armor made of studded leather, and toe off my boots. My ruined socks are last and then I am completely naked for the first time in months. I step into the wooden tub and almost moan. The water feelssogood. I sit down and spy a precious cake of oatmeal soap sitting atop a folded towel. I take the soap and rub it on my skin.
This time Idomoan, the exfoliation from the oatmeal feeling likethe greatest luxury. I keep washing, allowing the warm water to soothe my aching muscles. I hum lightly, cleaning my legs, when I smell a change in the air. A welcoming, spicy scent that I have smelled before, just this morning.Lust. Marvik’s lust.
I whip my head around, but he is still facing the wall, standing in a stiff posture. Maybe even stiffer than before. Did I imagine it? I go back to washing, humming again, and smell it again. Again I turn sharply, only to find him still looking at the wall. But this time, the scent doesn’t go away. It is emanating off of him, his pheromones undeniably communicating desire. It is delicious. Tempting and seductive. I feel myself go wet just from his smell and feel the instinct to thrum. It takes all my discipline to not start.
“Stop that,” I snap, even as I become uncomfortably aroused.
“Stop what?” he asks, his head turning slightly.
“Don’t turn around!”
