Page 24 of Orc's Desire

The Urr’ki do not follow that pattern. Their city streets are lit by tall stone posts that sport an open flame at the top. They are placed every thirty feet or so. When it’s ‘night’ they leave one burning, then extinguish the next three, before leaving another one on.

It makes the city ‘dark’ but not too dark. This deep under the mountain, without the benefit of any luminescent moss that grows in the tunnels, I can only imagine that it would be completely pitch black if they put all the lights out.

“What fuels them?” I ask, Khiara who is leaning against the wall staring at the patched crack in the ceiling.

“Hmm?” he asks.

“The lamps, what fuels them?”

“The columns are filled with oil,” he says, “harvested from sapa.”

“Oh,” I say, returning to the silence that has been sitting over the three of us uncomfortably for what feels like hours.

Khiara has studied the ceiling long enough now that he has probably memorized every scrape and pore on it. Dilacs is harder to tell where his focus is. His heavily hooded eyes look almost closed and every time I’m sure he must be asleep, he moves or blinks.

I squirm in my chair, uncomfortable, butt going numb, but having nothing else to do. Beyond the walls of the house I can hear workers but they leave our home alone, at least so far. A couple of times it sounded like someone was approaching the door and all of us tense. The pervasive fear that the Maulavi will come to grab me up has only been heightened by the passage of time. No one believes it’s a matter of if, only of when.

“It’s time,” Khiara says, pushing himself off the wall.

He looks at his brother then at me, holding a gaze on each of us for what feels like a long time. None of us say anything. I don’t know what to say and the brothers have that special way of talking without words, which I assume they’re doing. How would I really know? Sometimes I can feel it, but that’s not so clear right now.

Khiara clears his throat, rolls his shoulders, then nods. He turns and as he grabs the door handle Dilacs moves towards him.

“Wait,” Dilacs says. Khiara pauses, door knob half turned, head bowed. “Be careful.”

Khiara doesn’t answer for a moment, but his shoulders tense. Dilacs stares at his brothers back and I watch feeling very much like a third wheel. Khiara grunts, jerks the door open, then it shuts behind him and he’s gone.

Dilacs and I stare at the door. My stomach is churning with worry for what might happen and if Khiara will be and is okay. The suspicion and paranoia of the Urr’ki lies over their entire society. No one trust anyone and every set of eyes could be a spy for the Maulavi. Is Khiara heading into a trap?

Whether he is or not, the only thing for us to do is wait. And it’s been hours. I don’t know how long but it feels like too long. The moments crawl past like an implacable march of lemmings, free of concern but carrying with it mounting worry, both for me and Dilacs. It marches on and still there is no sign or hint of Khiara’s return.

Dilacs paces the floor, interspersing growls at irregular intervals. I can’t do anything to help Khiara, but I can Dilacs. I walk over and step into his path. He stops, staring down, his chest rising and falling fast as his hands spasm into fists then relax.

I’m not sure what to say, but I want to help. Somehow I want to make him feel better. The tension in him is so tight that he’s vibrating with it. His heavy eyes flutter, his lips tremble, twisting and he shakes his head.

“Dilacs,” I say, speaking softly. Slowly I reach my hand forward until at last I touch his arm. A static spark pops as our skin makes contact, numbing my fingers. I gasp with surprise, quickly looking up and locking onto the raging inferno in his eyes.

“Gwen,” he exhales a shortening of my name and the sound of it, the way he says it, the feel of it causes a thrill to rush down my spine.

“It will?—”

My words are cut off as his arms wrap around my waist and he lifts me off my feet. Our mouths meet. He crushes me against his body while our lips burn with need as we move them together.

His lips are flush and warm. Soft, yet insistent. I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding myself against him and there is no mistaking the stiffening of his cock. I bite his lip, pulling back with it between my teeth, letting it snap back into place then kissing and licking it as he growls.

One of his hands is on my ass, squeezing, kneading. I run my hands over his face. His cheeks are unshaven and rough, rasping in response to my palms. I push into his hair, grabbing a handful as one of his hands comes to my neck.

He moves us to the wall, crushing me between it and him. He drives his tongue into my mouth, demanding entrance. I part my lips welcoming him, meeting his advance with mine.

Our tongues move together. Hands roam. Touches. Sensations.

His weight presses onto me. I’m panting. I want him. I need him.

Freeing one of my hands I push it down between us, seeking his cock. I’m ready. This is the time. The moment.

A loud explosion booms and the wall shakes.

12

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