Page 51 of War Mage

“No,” I say, though my throat is dry as I say so, the wanting gripping my heart.

Adara raises a brow and I feel hurt and offense coming from her side of the bond. “No?” she repeats. “But why not?”

“I told you before,” I say, fighting to keep my voice even, “I have been developing feelings for you. Because of my Mating Instinct. I no longer find it tasteful to use you as a mere tool for pleasure and I do not wish to be used either. It is not enough for me.”

“You want more?” Adara asks, sounding vulnerable. “A deeper connection?”

“My Mating Instinct does,” I confirm. “Though it is not wise at this juncture of the mission to engage in a deep connection, that is what it wants.”

“What ‘it’ wants?” she questions, still straddling me. “Not what ‘you’ want?”

The confirming words are ready to tip out over my tongue, but I can’t quite say them. Because they are a lie. I know that deep down I want Adara as my true mate just as much as my Mating Instinct. But we are on a mission that could result in her death and I don’t know that I’ll have the stomach to go through with it if we take our relationship any further.

But I don’t want to lie. So instead I rasp out, “It doesn't matter what I want.”

“It matters tome,” retorts Adara softly. “Tell me that you don’t want me and I’ll go to my side of the room and we’ll forget that this ever happened. But if you can’t say that . . .”

Longing spears through my heart, strong enough that I’m sure she can feel it in the bond. But still, I remain silent.

Adara leans in closer, her nose skimming mine, and then she whispers, “Can you tell me that, commander? That you don’t want me?”

I gulp, knowing that it is unwise to play her game, but unable to resist. “I cannot,” I respond, catching her brown eyes with mine.

Then her lips meet mine and all control flees.

Chapter 22

Adara

It has been a long time since I have kissed anyone, the intimacy of the act is something that generally makes me uncomfortable. But with Urim, it somehow feels right, especially in light of everything we’ve gone through. I kiss him gently, teasingly, but he doesn’t allow me to keep control of the kiss for long. With a hunger that startles me, he kisses me back, his tongue dancing with mine, fire and passion sparking in its wake.

This is no practiced game of pleasure. This is hunger and desperation for touch, for intimacy. Hissibilancespills forth, igniting sensation across my skin. My hands come up to the stays of my kirtle, undoing the sturdy ribbons with clumsy, eager fingers. I want to feel my skin against his. His arms come around me, helping me undress with sure, deft hands. The bond is alive with feeling, that normal calm that he projects nowhere to be found. Lust and deep possession flows into me, the burgeoning emotion of love. Everything that he’s been feeling and keeping from me bursts forward like a dam breaking. It almost scares me in its intensity, but I find that my feelings answer his, more than I would have suspected.

I . . . I . . . respect this orc. Care for him. Maybe something deeper. One doesn’t go through the crucible that we have, bound together as we are, without developing some feelings. Normally, I might be afraid of these emotions, the speed with which they’ve developed, and who they’ve developed for, but life is short. We may die in scant days’ time, our future uncertain. It makes sense to grab onto what makes me feel alive and hold on to it with both hands.

My clothes are thrown to the floor, my naked skin pressed against his bare chest. He winces and I pull back. I forgot about his brands, even though they are looking more healed than they were. “I’m sorry,” I say, chagrined.

“No apologies,” Urim growls back, his normal emotionless demeanor completely gone. He drags me back to him, his lips devouring mine again, though I keep a hairsbreadth of distance between us to avoid hurting him again.

Suddenly Urim stands, his strong hands under my rump, lifting me easily with him. He carries me to the far wall and presses me up against it, my body sandwiched between him and the cool stone wall.

“I cannot wait for you, hellion,” he rumbles. “So you’ll take my cock like a good female, won’t you? And tell me how much you like it.”

I gasp at his words, feeling myself getting wetter. Who is this orc and what has he done with Urim? But I like this primal side of him, stripped away of his emotionless training, leaving just the unfettered truth between us. His hand spanks my thigh, surprising me and I moan.

“How do you reply to me, hellion?” he asks.

“Yes, commander,” I breathe out. “I’ll take you like a good female.”

“Good,” he purrs, his thrum strong, before taking my lips again. I hear the clank of his belt as he drops his trousers, freeing his hardness between us. He notches himself at my entrance and thrusts up in one brutal movement, seating himself in me entirely. I choke out a cry, but it’s smothered by his kiss. Then he moves away from my lips and kisses down my neck.

“Good female,” he croons, soothing me against the sudden intrusion. One of his hands comes up and starts tracing lightly round my left nipple, sending little shocks of pleasure coursing through my system. “You take my cock so well. But you want more, don’t you?”

“Yes, commander,” I breathe out, moving my hips, eager to feel him in me. But he grabs my hips, stilling my actions.

“This ismypussy,” he says sternly, some vestiges of his stoicism coming back. “I will take it how I want and you’ll take it, won’t you? Or are you going to be a hellion?”

The words are a challenge and at that moment I want to answer him. Very deliberately I start bucking my hips again, moving him within me. The friction is delicious, but the little narrowing of his eyes and the promise within them are even more so.

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