Page 163 of Halfling
A low breath stirred the hair at her crown.
“Go to sleep, my heart,” Orek whispered. “I have you.”
His arm flexed around her, bringing her impossibly closer into his good—not as badly hurt—side. It wasn’t as much contact as Sorcha wanted, but he was forced to lay on his back and Sorcha was terrified of causing him more pain.
She and her father had seen to Orek’s wounds, stitching him up as best they could and packing the smaller wounds with the poultices and salves Aunt Sofie had sent with them. Then they’d bound his middle to prevent his ribs from moving. Her poor halfling had a painful few weeks ahead of him as he healed, but she’d slathered him with as many numbing creams as she had available and forced a cup of poppy milk tea down his throat.
She’d been unable to let him out of her sight since a tentative agreement between the new orc chieftain and Lord Darrow was struck. The two groups camped on the riverplain after the orcs collected their dead and the humans saw to their wounded. It was only a few hours until morning, and then they would go their separate ways. Ciaran had insisted Sorcha and Orek get some rest in the meantime.
Sorcha didn’t want to rest. Bereft of her mate for days, even sleep was too much of a separation now that she’d found him again.
The urgency that had kept her going, that saw her galloping headlong into a bevy of huge orcs, still rode her hard, keeping her pulse strumming at her throat. All her nervous energy coalesced into something close to panic, even as she held her mate in her arms. Gently.
She was a little embarrassed to admit even to herself that all this restlessness made her crave her mate something fierce. Sorcha wanted tofeelhim, assure herself that he was alive and with her.
Unable to help herself, she tangled their legs, pressing the apex of her thighs into his hip. A muffled groan escaped her lips as she sought more pressure. This wild, frantic need wantedout,but she knew better than to mount her hurting, wounded mate in the middle of camp with her brothers and father a few paces away—though she certainly thought about it.
His chest rumbled under her palm, and Orek turned his head to kiss her hair. Under the blankets and furs, his hand strayed down her back, over her hip. He teased at the band of her braies, fingers stealing inside to pet her flank.
The angle was all wrong for much more than a few searching touches, but Sorcha still keened when his fingertips grazed her throbbing quim.
“You’re hot as the fire,” Orek rumbled. “Do you burn for me, my heart? Do you need me?”
Sorcha bit back a needy moan. “I’ve missed you so much, my love.” She wriggled up to lay her face beside his, claiming his mouth in a kiss as deep as her love and need for him. She poured everything into that kiss, hoping it would calm some of her restlessness.
If anything, it only fanned the flames of her need.
When she pulled away, she found a smug grin playing at his lips. “Youdoneed me,” he said, entirely too pleased with himself.
“You’re hurt.”
“Not badly enough to leave my beautiful, needy mate wanting.”
Sorcha squirmed, trying to relieve the ache, but she was weak for this male.
“Take me somewhere.”
His grin turned wicked, and faster than a male as battered and bruised as he was should’ve been able, he rose from their bedding and pulled her up behind him. He grabbed a fur before leading her away from camp.
Sorcha followed, grasping his hand in both of hers. She caught Connor’s gaze before disappearing into the trees, rolling her eyes to see his smirk.
He’s just jealous he doesn’t have a mate to steal away with.
Her pulse fluttered like bird wings as the camp and its light fell away, leaving her almost blind as she let her mate lead her through the dark trees. He guided her confidently, maneuvering them around obstacles and warning her of ankle-turning rocks.
After a few minutes, Sorcha saw a small clearing through the trees. The full moon bathed it in haunting shafts of blue light, throwing the trees and their branches into graceful, almost dancing figures. A pile of boulders sat to one side, and Orek led her there, spreading the fur on one of the rocks.
He spun her round and lifted her by the hips to sit.
“Perfect,” he rumbled before claiming her lips in one of those long, dragging kisses she loved.
Framing his face in her hands, Sorcha spread her legs, welcoming him back to his place between her thighs. His hard cock nestled against her quim, and she sighed into his mouth.
Fates, she wanted him so badly.
Her kisses turned frantic, her hands desperate as she clawed at his braies. “I almost lost you,” she murmured thickly, hating the words. Her questing hands took hold of his cock, the heat of him searing her palm.
“But you didn’t,” he said between kisses to her neck. “You made sure of it. My fearsome warrior mate.”
