Page 70 of Halfling
They’d spent the better part of the morning fixing up the wagon. After toying with this and tightening that, it’d become clear that what was easiest was for Orek to just lift the damnable thing so Anghus could get directly where he needed and make the adjustment.
Fully healthy, Orek would have had no problem lifting the back of the empty wagon. As it was, he strained with the weight of one corner, but he was careful not to aggravate his side.
Not that that’d make a difference to Sorcha. They’d been careful only to lift when she was distracted and not looking.
“Should make the ride a hell of a lot smoother,” remarked Anghus. “My backside appreciates it.”
“I appreciate you and your family’s aid,” Orek replied. He knew what a leap of faith Anghus must have made to bring Orek back here and then let him and Sorcha stay.
Anghus shrugged. “Have to take care of each other, so far out here.” He snickered, shaking his head. “Fates, I sound like Cara. She loves spouting that community shite. But she’s also not wrong.” Thick brows rising nearly to his hairline, he pointed a finger at Orek. “Don’t you dare tell her I said that.”
“So long as you don’t tell Sorcha I did heavy lifting.”
Anghus chuckled. “They worry because they care.”
Orek swallowed those words, his guts twisting. Flippant as they’d been said, the words still made that foolish, desperate hope pluck at his heart. If it was true, if worry and fussing meant caring, then surely Sorcha must have cared for him a great deal.
He didn’t even mind that it was because she needed him fit and strong to help her the rest of the way home. He didn’t mind that it was also likely her soft heart and caring nature. He adored those things about her and didn’t think too hard on the reason why they were focused on him.
Just enjoy it while it lasts.
He was a patient male, even when the cause was a lost one. It was what made him an excellent hunter and tracker.
Sorcha was a quarry unlike any he’d ever chased, one he knew he’d never catch.
But this female had fussed over him, cared for him, cried for him, and, most stunning of all,came back for him.So even if she would never be his, he knew as surely as he did that he had ten fingers and a scar bisecting two knuckles on his left hand that he was irrevocably, forever hers. However she wanted him, however she needed him—just hers.
And that was enough. This female had earned his admiration, his protection, his devotion. Whatever time he had left with her, he would make it be enough.
A peel of laughter drew their attention to the clearing between the barn and house. With Cara clapping from the outside table, Sorcha and the children ran around in circles, letting Darrah chase them.
Anghus rumbled with laughter beside him as they watched the antics. The kit romped through the grass, nipping at their ankles. The children squealed with delight, and Sorcha scooped him up, bopped his nose with hers, and set him down to let him chase her again.
Orek’s mouth tugged up in a smile, his gaze devouring the figure Sorcha cut across the clearing. Face bright and rosy in the autumn sunshine, she glowed with her own radiant happiness. Her curls bounced as she zigged and zagged, slow enough to let Darrah and the children keep up.
Seeing her with this human family…Orek couldn’t help wondering what her own was like. They were what she spoke of most, and her love for them punctuated everything she did, every word she said. Her fierce, deep devotion to them stirred an old, ugly jealousy in him, one that saw other orclings with their parents and other males with their females or mates and younglings and wondered why he couldn’t have just one person who loved him.
They weren’t good thoughts, always burning his throat with bitterness, but he had them nevertheless. Now, though, he’d had a taste of devotion, of caring, and he craved more.
The orc mating bond was a prickly thing when it went unanswered. He’d known before plunging into that river that he was already too far gone to stop it. There was some solace in knowing that it would never be fulfilled—for the mate-bond to fully take root, physical intimacy over a prolonged period was needed. Consensual,enthusiasticintimacy.
Fates, what he wouldn’t give to find a secret place to take her, hide her,fuckher senseless—
He sucked in a breath, shifting his weight.
As he and Anghus watched them play, Orek couldn’t help noticing the curve of Sorcha’s hips as she ran, how those lush thighs flexed and bunched. Her heavy breasts bounced as she twisted and evaded the laughing children and raccoon kit.
It was a daily daydream, hourly, every other minute sometimes, thinking of all the ways he’d prove himself a good mate. A giving mate. How he’d discover everything she liked, all the touches and words and moves. He knew almost nothing from experience but he’d learn everything there was to know about her and her pleasure. He’d give her so much she’d beg him for reprieve, but he wouldn’t give it, would keep lavishing her with pleasure and his tongue and his fingers and—
His skin tightened as his blood ran hotter, and Orek huffed.
For days they’d slept close to one another out in the forest. Now, she slept beside him, her scent saturating the hay, driving away even the heavy smells of the animals. So close, it nearly drove him to insanity. More than the itch of his healing wounds, the thought of her there,just there,close enough to touch andnotgiving into the temptation to just simply reach out and touch her…
She’d seeped inside him, made a place for herself there, and his mind couldn’t stop turning over ways to do the same.
To be inside her…in her heart, her body…
He kept himself awake long into the night with those hopes and wishes tumbling through his mind, body prickling with desire he couldn’t sate. There was nowhere and no chance to take himself in hand, and even then, he doubted it’d do him much good.
