Page 74 of Faeling
Vallek didn’t know whether to be impressed or exasperated with how his whole camp, from warrior to cook, now looked at her askance with real trepidation in their eyes. She wasn’t allowed anywhere near the mess tent.
Ravenna…it wasn’t that she enjoyed the notoriety, but she certainly rode her onager with the poise and regalness of a queen. A smug queen.
A few days of hard marching, however, soon made everyone—not forget, but at least think about other things. The hard days of journeying had their rhythm, and soon all fell into step. Vallek made himself be content with spending his days strategizing while marching, for at least he was holding his mate close in the night.
He kept her back with all the others who weren’t warriors, though, when the smoke of the first tribe’s camp was spotted on the horizon.
Vallek sent scouts ahead, and when they reported back on size and strength, he deployed his berserkers. As one disciplined unit, they encircled the camp, moving inexorably inward to tighten the knot. When the tribesmen realized what had happened, it was already too late.
One by one, the tribes pledged their allegiance. Surrounded and overwhelmed, they had little choice. Sharp-Tooth, Green-Back, Silver-Tusk, Shorn-Head, and Iron-Chest, they all came to understand that unification with the growing orcish kingdom was in their best interest.
Not every encounter went smoothly. The Green-Back chieftain challenged Vallek to combat. It was a good fight, one that got Vallek’s blood pumping, and in the end, he was by rights the new chieftain of the Green-Backs. His first decree was to order the remaining kin to choose a new leader before sending representatives to Balmirra.
Challenging and fighting for leadership of every clan wasn’t practical, but it did expedite his demands. It also had the unforeseen benefit of softening his little hellion towards him.
His mate fussed over his minor scrapes from the challenge even more than his healer Fenna did, which pleased him no end. He could very well get used to having Ravenna flutter and fuss, her soft hands searching him all over for any more bumps or bruises. He let her check over the healer’s work and even dab on her own salves and tinctures.
“A kiss from you would heal all my hurts,” he crooned, trying not to be too obvious about looking down the neckline of her nightgown.
Her rosebud lips pursed in an unimpressed moue. “You’re fine.”
When she made to stand up, he grabbed her hand, pulling her back down to his side. “No, you must check me over more. I’m bruised and weary from missing you.”
“You saw me this morning,” she said grumpily.
“Hours and hours ago. Agony to my poor heart.”
Ravenna patted his chest. “Your heart is fine.”
“A kiss would ensure it.”
She squinted at him a long while, but in the blink of an eye, her expression grew sultry. A vixen’s smile played at her lips as she gently pushed at his chest. He fell back into the bed willingly, ignorant of his sore body as he watched her climb first onto the bed and then onto him. Straddling his waist, her nightgown pushed up to her hips, she arched one dark brow at him as she ran her hands up and down his chest.
Enchanted, his purr buzzed through him, and his hands slid up her thighs to frame her hips. He hummed with pleasure when she leaned over him, balancing her weight on one hand so she could hover just above him.
“Just one kiss?” she murmured in a dulcet, cock-teasing tone.“I think you will demand far more than that, my king. You’re greedy.”
“It would depend on the kiss,” he mused.
Ravenna hummed in consideration, her long hair falling around them in a dark, fragrant curtain. Intoxicated by her scent and nearness, Vallek’s hands began to knead her flesh, urging her silently to come closer, to let him devour her.
“Well, if it would mean the health of the king. Just kisses.”
Something niggled in his mind that he should’ve been worried, but then that lush mouth was on his, and he wasn’t thinking anymore beyond that. She kissed him first in gentle little nibbles, teasing touches that were never quite enough. The lightest pressure, the barest taste, and then she was gone, moving to his chin or his tusk before coming back to give him hope again.
Her hands found their way into his hair and traced the tipped edges of his ears. Her fingertips were as light as her kisses, feathery and maddening. No matter how he coaxed, she wouldn’t be rushed. Instead, over long,longmoments of tantalizing agony, she slowly increased the pressure and length of her kisses.
Whenever his hands strayed beyond cupping her pert backside, her magic took hold of his hands to push them back in place. It was vigilant, never letting him stray into the wet heat he could just feel above his lower belly.
Too late he realized she truly meant it. Just kisses.
But oh, her kisses fed his soul. He couldn’t feel his stinging cuts or aching bruises. His pride and triumph at conquering another tribe were nothing to the thrill of her lingering kiss.
Gods, why was he here in this wilderness when he could becomfortable in his great bed in Balmirra, locked away with his luscious mate?
Once this was done, once the east was secured, he intended to march straight back to his city and ensconce himself and Ravenna in his quarters for days. There, he would take his due for every teasing kiss, every arched brow and defiant grin. If it wasn’t his fingers inside her, then it would be his cock, every day, always, claiming her until their scents mixed and she was convinced of the fact that he’d never part with her.
He endured her play for as long as he was able, meeting her kisses with his own, murmuring promises to her, and trailing his fingers ever closer to the cunt he knew was swollen and soaked for him.
