Page 48 of Halfling
And yet here she was, still miles and miles from home, bedded down in a strange forest near a strange river with a strange male.
Well, not so strange.
Sorcha tucked her hands under her chin and tried again to quiet her thoughts.
Thinking of Aislinn made her consider how few friends she had outside her family. How little she had at all outside her family. Sorcha didn’t resent it, she loved her family, but perhaps it explained her growing attachment to Orek.
In the worst danger of her life, this male had offered her safety, and she took it.
He was her companion, her ally, and perhaps now her friend.
Sorcha needed friends.
You don’t fantasize about friends taking you hard and fast against the nearest tree.
No, but she put that down to his shoulders. They were magnificent, after all. How could she be expectednotto dream of them, all cozy in her blankets?
Sorcha sighed, feeling sleep finally ease around the corners of her mind.
She fell asleep telling herself to behave. To keep her hands off the orc and save the rest of the salve. That she’d be home soon.
11
Orek sat still on a boulder, a little annoyed but mostly amused as he let Sorcha continue to fuss over him.
He told himself it was a good distraction from the morning to come—he’d yet to figure out how she’d talked him into accompanying her into the human village they’d stumbled across yesterday. They could use some supplies and food, and while Sorcha had been amenable to going herself, last night she’d made the argument for him to come with her, to actually see a human town. In the soft dark, her face lit by the amber glow of the fire, her argument made sense.
Now, in the light of morning, he wasn’t so sure. No animal wanted to walk into danger, and that’s how this felt, even if she’d been rattling off the many things they could see and buy there all morning.
The town was fairly large, much larger than the handful he’d skirted while hunting. The old map she’d procured called this place Kinvar, and Sorcha had said she’d like to see what was available. Orek thought she might also have a little dark curiosity if she’d be met with the same hostility as in Birrin.
An agitated rumble worked up his throat at the thought of anyone insulting her.
His desire to protect her was mostly what had him agreeing to this rather foolish plan. She’d explained, with his hood up and gloves on, he should pass just fine for human. Yes, a big one, but he was human enough in shape and visage. A full orc-kin, with their tusks and sharp cheekbones and jutting noses, would be marked immediately.
“But you,”she’d insisted,“should pass fine.”
He couldn’t help a niggle of curiosity. Orek didn’t fear the humans of Kinvar, doubted they’d know what to do about an orc at all if they recognized him. What he did fear was a situation going bad. He could take care of himself—but he couldn’t just take care of himself.
He’d Sorcha to care for.
And he did. Very much.
So he used that resolve and her fussing to distract himself—though if he was honest, he let her keep fiddling with the angle of his hood because it meant she stood close, just within the wide space between his legs. Her scent was strong in his nose, and he could just feel the warmth of her soft skin.
More than once, he’d been so mesmerized by the rhythm of the pulse at her neck that he’d missed whatever she’d just said.
With a noise of triumph, Sorcha took a half-step back and placed her hands on her hips, surveying her work.
He immediately missed her nearness.
“That should do. Now, you—andyou,” she bopped Darrah on the nose from where he lay curled around Orek’s neck under his hair, “just stay under the hood and we should be fine. Let me and the gold do the talking.”
Orek grunted in agreement. He’d no need to talk to anyone in the village anyway.
“Don’t look so enthusiastic,” she teased.
When she went to retrieve her pack, Orek was there beside her in a moment, lifting it for her. She murmured her thanks as she turned and slipped her arms through the straps.
