Page 55 of Tusk Love

Once she arrived in Nicodranas, she would have to be a lady again, but for now she could have her edifices of stone and her deep ravine. She could have Oskar behind her, a steady presence, letting her take it all in with an easy alertness that made clear he was prepared to catch her if shedidbegin to fall.

Despite the gorge’s harsh, arresting beauty, the journey through it was a slow and plodding affair. Not only was the path extremely steepin several places, but it was also varying levels of narrow; there were certain intervals wherein the many travelers had to proceed in single file. Everyone spoke quietly and pitched in to help the larger conveyances rattle up and down the inclines without making too much noise.

When Guinevere inquired as to why this was, once Oskar returned to her after lending his assistance to the wagon in front of them, he explained that the whole valley was a landslide risk, and she found herself wishing that she hadn’t asked. She still gazed up at the cliffs with awe, but there was now a healthy dose of wariness as well.

They were trekking at a slower pace than Oskar had accounted for. When the sun began to set, the Wuyun Gates were still a two-hour ride away. But there was no question of stopping for the night; the darkness came down fast, spilling into the ravine like a wash of ink. As their fellow travelers set up camp, Oskar and Guinevere staked out a spot under an overhang, making sure that the pearwood trunk was tucked safely between their bedrolls and the rock face.

Supper was salty strips of Clan Bonecrusher’s preserved mutton and more forest fruit, eaten in the dim glow of other people’s fires. It was the coldest night yet, perhaps because of the altitude, and Guinevere’s teeth chattered so hard that she almost couldn’t partake of her meal, despite being famished. Oskar did his best when they went to bed, wrapping her up in blankets, but it still wasn’t enough. The chill was a knife in her middle, spreading outward, all the way to the tips of her fingers and her toes.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. As campfires were snuffed out one by one all along the ravine, a shivering Guinevere crawled into Oskar’s bedroll.

He folded her into his arms at once, climbing on top of her so that there would be space for them both. Pinned down by his solid weight, she happily soaked up the heat emanating from his broad frame. How nice it was to be held without hesitation. She wondered if Lord Wensleydale would be this affectionate, this warm—

Just like that, the chill tore through her again. She couldn’t even imagine doing this and more with any man other than Oskar. It felthorribly wrong. But she would have to, wouldn’t she? A lord needed heirs, and it was her duty as his wife to provide them.

“Am I too heavy?” Oskar asked. “You’ve gone tense.”

Guinevere was slow to respond, and he started to move off her. But she grabbed at his tunic with desperate fists, keeping him in place. “It’s fine,” she croaked.Heavier, heavier,she thought wildly.More real. I need this to last, even if the Amber Road won’t.“Kiss me.”

And when he did, she parted her lips for him at once. His tongue tangled with hers and swept and rolled, leaving no inch of her mouth untasted. The flower crown was a thing of the past, having been snatched up and gobbled down by another traveler’s mule earlier; already she missed the way he looked with the leaves threaded through his dark hair, the petals trailing down to his pointed ears, but it was a small price to pay for being able to card her fingers through his thick mane unimpeded.

When those fingers had stroked and tugged their fill, they drifted lower. Her shyness, too, was a thing of the past. There was no time for it anymore. They were running out of road. He muttered oaths against her lips as her hand disappeared into his trousers, down to where he was already hard, as though he’d been waiting for her all his life. She wrapped her fist around him, marveling at the heat of it, the girth, the texture like silk stretched over bulging steel.

Oskar’s kisses turned sloppy as he thrust into the circle of her fingers. He finally gave up on kissing her mouth altogether, yanking his tunic over his head before settling into the easier angle of her neck as he cupped and squeezed her breasts through the fabric of her bodice. Guinevere squirmed beneath him, the flame of want soaring higher, warding off autumn’s icy sting. Soon he’d lifted up her skirt and positioned his lean hips between her spread thighs, lying almost flat atop her as the blanket fell all around them like a second veil of night. There were no more campfires left in their little slice of the Wuyun Gorge, but the clouds had decided to thin at some point, one of the two moons and a few faint stars shining in the misty velvet black over Oskar’s head. The ravine was narrow, and everyone wandering throughit had more or less kept pace with one another all day. There was an encampment of sleeping travelers about twenty feet to Guinevere’s left, and another group was half that distance directly across from her and Oskar. It was the height of folly to do this here and now. The last holdout of common sense in a lonesome corner at the back of her mind—that one tiny part of her that wasn’t drowning in lust—understood that all too well. But…

But by tomorrow afternoon, they would be in Nicodranas. There was no more time. There was no more road.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart.” Oskar’s voice was a hoarse whisper in the dark, fanning against her temple. “Do you think you can be quiet?”

“Yes,” she mumbled into his neck, inhaling the scent of forest and leather, of sweat and salvation and Fessuran. She would be quiet. She would do anything for him.

He tugged the gusset of her underwear to the side and pushed in. It was always such a lovely shock, those first few inches. She arched silently, her breasts pressing against his wide chest as she savored the feeling. Had they been in the woods, she’d be howling at the moon by now. But they were in the gorge, surrounded by people who had to be kept none the wiser, and so she swallowed it all down even as the space beneath her heart exploded into a million butterflies.

Oskar’s mouth dropped to her throat. He nibbled at the skin there, but not hard enough to bruise it again. There could be no evidence when he handed her off to her parents and another man. Yet the sharp tip of his left tusk caressed her jawline, raking up trails of shivery sensation, and that would have to be enough. She’d take it. She would take what she could get. He worked his whole length into her with painstaking slowness, his muscular frame trembling from the strain of holding back, and she looped her fingers into the cord of the pendant that dangled from his neck, tugging at the Vigilance Stone until their lips met once more. She kissed him, she took him, and with one last careful nudge he was all the way in, and, gods, it was a good thing that his tongue was currently keeping hers occupied, lest their hapless fellow travelers be in for a rude awakening.

It was only then that Guinevere began to question how they were to do this. Sex, as she had learned, came with all manner of distinct sounds, especially the way she and Oskar both liked it, hard and fast, slap of skin on skin. She couldn’t fathom how they’d be able to get away with this.

It wasn’t long before heshowedher, though.

He wedged one large hand under her buttocks, lifting her lower half up slightly. He rolled his hips against hers, never fully withdrawing even as he created a delicious friction. It wasn’t a thrusting, but a rocking, a slow drag alongside her inner walls. It was the gentle kind of intense that made her feel like she’d go up in smoke. Her legs locked around his waist, her toes curling. Her mind melting. The pleasure that spiraled through her long and undulating. Taking its sweet time.

The tip of him hit that perfect spot inside her, the one that made her breath hitch, that made her body go into a full spasm. She felt rather than saw his lips curve against her neck in a wicked grin. He came back to it, again and again, and she was going to scream, she truly was—

Frantic, Guinevere sank her teeth into Oskar’s bare shoulder. He let out a hiss, twitching inside her before he picked up the pace, just a little bit. If anyone happened to wake up and glance over now, they would see two forms writhing under a blanket. They would know.

And was it the danger, Guinevere thought, that was making her burn up? The illicit thrill of it? She was almostthere.She just needed one last push…

Oskar apparently did, too. Without warning, he reared up, practically folding her in half, clapping one hand over her mouth. He drove into her with rapid, shallow thrusts. They were hardly being subtle, but at this point Guinevere was too far gone to care. She muffled her screams into his palm, and she watched the stars over his shoulder as he slammed into her, folds of blanket tangling between their bodies. And soon those stars were blurring before her eyes and she was coming, dragging him along with her, desire and desperation unfolding all throughout this vast ravine.

Was she truly to never feel this way again, after tomorrow? Oskarcollapsed on top of her, and Guinevere gathered him into her arms, kissing his temple as he nuzzled at her clothed breasts, wringing out the last drops of his spend inside her with a few more limp thrusts. She was sated, yet hollow.End of thiswas all she could think, there in that place of rock and starlight.End of road.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Oskar

Nicodranas.

It was as colorful as Oskar remembered, its eclectic jumble of architectural styles speaking to the diverse array of cultures that had made this port city their home. The cobblestone streets sloped and curved, affording panoramic views of the sun-dappled Lucidian Ocean, stirred by balmy breezes that delivered the shoreline’s tang of salt and dried fish to the innermost sprawls.

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