Page 21 of Orc Chained
They draw blood.
“You taught me.”
“Liar! We weren't like this when?—”
“Every night I lay awake thinking of you, you were in my mind. I argued with your image, I seduced your phantom flesh. I begged the female who was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, because I had no way of knowing whether you lived or died, to come home to me.”
I can't speak. I can't do anything but listen.
“I mastered your body, learned your scent and the change in the cadence of your breath when I touched you. You taught me, Ky’a. For twenty years you've been my lover, and you've been the one driving me mad.”
No Orcess can listen to the hopeless rage, the pain filled yearning, in her male’s voice and remain unmoved. I close my eyes, stiffening to keep from weeping.
“Do you think you’re the only one whosuffered?” I whisper. “I worshiped you. I loved you. I needed you to stand up for me.”
“I know.” His hand slips under my waistband but all he does is cup me, more like he’s giving comfort than trying to arouse. “It will be different. Maybe the separation was a good thing. We both grew up, we came into our own. We’re whole as individuals, and we’ll now be stronger together than we might have been.”
His hand moves, fingers slipping between my folds. He begins to rub my clit, the circular caress slow, applying steady pressure as his lips move down my neck. My hips move and the sounds of the forest fall away until there’s nothing but Rath’s soft breaths, the rumble in his chest when I moan, his fingers working me to a quick, searing climax.
He yanks my head around and kisses me right as I cry out, the kiss capturing both my scream and his snarl, his tongue invading and claiming, conquering as his teeth gnaw at my bottom lip, draw blood and suck on the drops my lip offer.
“Soon you’ll drench my cock the way you’re drenching my fingers,” he says. “And it won’t be your blood I drink either.” He lifts his head and looks down at me, expression dark with lust, eyes feral. “Though I think I’ll have more of that too. Kyona.”
My name is a demand for submission.
I close my eyes, turning my head away, tucking against his chest. “Yes.”
What else can I say? I’m not strong. I refuse to endure hunger the way I endured pain.
We camp. Maezii signs to ask if I need her before she goes off with her Icarian—he likes to “fly her to higher ground.”
I suspect that’s a euphemism, but I’m not bold enough to look in his cool, enigmatic face and outright ask if he’s already seduced my apprentice. She’s grown. She’ll tell me if she needs help.
“. . .dyed its hair?—”
“Pelt,you snails for brains.”
“Fur. On a cow it’s fur.”
“How would you know? You don’t read. Anyway, and put those horns on its head and the illusion charm to make it breathe fire. . .Erdguth thought it was a hellshound!” The boys burst into riotous laughter.
I don’t think it’s all that funny, but they’ve been smoking.
“I remember that one,” I say, smiling. “Erdguth blamed me, and Matriarch whipped me in punishment.”
The boys stop laughing.
“Rath took over. He convinced her the punishment would be worse if he did it. He wasn’t wrong.”
He stares at me across the fire, expression stony, except for his eyes. “She would have whipped you until your spine kissed air, Ky’a.”
“I know.” I shrug. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, or forgive you.”
Hatthar passes me another smoke. I accept and take a long drag. During Sorting season the governor’s soldiers patrol the roads, so it’s safe enough to relax for an evening if there are enough of you. Maezii and I wouldn’t have done this onour own. The boys started telling stories of our youthful misadventures—all the funny, happy, mischievous stories.
I take another drag. “I know what you’re trying to do. The thing is, for every funny memory you dredge up to remind me how much we loved each other, I have an adjacent memory.”
“This is a slow death,” Lathhan says. “Seek bloodgilt and heal the wound.”
