Page 24 of The Orc's Princess Bride
This kiss was different from their first—not a sudden explosion of long-denied desire, but something deeper, more profound. His lips moved against hers with a tenderness that made herheart ache. She leaned into him, her hands sliding up his chest to tangle in his hair.
The tenderness didn’t last. As if a dam had broken, the kiss transformed, became hungry, desperate. He sat up and lifted her easily onto his lap. The heat of him seared through her thin nightdress, and she gasped as his mouth left hers to trace a burning path down her throat.
“Jessamin,” he growled against her skin, the sound vibrating through her body as his mouth moved lower.
She had no thought of refusing him. This wasn’t the political arrangement that had brought her to Norhaven. This was something they had forged together through fire and blood and trust. His hands slid up her sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, and she arched into his touch with a soft moan.
The sudden, sharp intake of his breath made her open her eyes. His face was contorted in a grimace of pain. Looking down, she saw a dark stain spreading across the bandage on his arm—the wound had reopened, blood seeping through the linen.
“You’re bleeding,” she whispered, pulling back.
He tried to recapture her mouth. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” She slid off his lap, her body protesting the loss of his heat. “Let me?—”
“Don’t.” His voice was rough with frustration and desire. “Don’t leave.”
The naked plea in his words stopped her. This proud, powerful king was asking—not commanding—her to stay. She reached for his uninjured hand and brought it to her lips.
“I’m not leaving you,” she promised. “But I won’t be the reason your wound worsens.”
For a moment, she thought he might argue. Then he sighed, a sound of weary acceptance. “Very well.”
She expected him to dismiss her then, to retreat behind his walls as he always did when vulnerability threatened. Instead, he shifted on the bed, making room for her beside him once more.
She sat silently next to him, the only sound their gradually slowing breaths. The intimacy of the moment was more profound than any physical passion could have been. Gradually, his breathing evened out, and the tension drained from his broad shoulders. He turned his hand and covered hers, his large palm engulfing her fingers.
It was an act of trust so profound it made her want to weep.
“I should change your bandage,” she said softly.
“Later,” he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Just… stay.”
She nodded, and he lay back against the pillows, drawing her with him until her head rested on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear was the most comforting sound she had ever heard.
His arm circled her waist, holding her close, and she felt the exact moment when sleep claimed him. His body relaxed completely, his breathing deep and even. She allowed herself to study his face in repose, the fierce lines softened in slumber. He looked younger, the weight of the crown temporarily lifted.
She didn’t know how long she lay there, memorizing the contours of his face, the pattern of old scars on his chest, thewarmth of his skin against hers. It was a gift, this unguarded moment, more precious than any treasure.
Eventually, reluctantly, she eased herself from his embrace. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. She tucked the blanket around him and pressed a feather-light kiss to his forehead before slipping from the bed.
At the door, she paused for one last look. The mighty King of Norhaven, fierce warrior and bearer of an ancient Curse, slept peacefully, his face smoothed of worry. Her heart swelled with an emotion too big to contain, too profound to name.
She slipped silently back through the darkened passageway, her heart full to bursting. The torches had burned low, casting long shadows on the stone walls, and the stronghold was silent around her.
A sudden movement in the shadows as she entered her chambers made her start.
“Your Majesty?”
Elspeth stepped into the dim light, her face a mask of concern. She wore a simple robe over her nightdress, her hair loose around her shoulders.
“Is the king well? I heard he’d been… restless and came to see if you needed assistance.”
She pressed a hand to her racing heart. “You startled me, Elspeth.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Elspeth dipped into a curtsy. “I was worried about you.”
The genuine concern in the other woman’s voice touched her. Despite her occasional barbed comments about Norhaven, Elspeth had been a steady presence since her arrival, a link to her homeland and her father.
