Page 79 of The Orc Chief's Baker
He grinned, waiting for her praise.
“I’m looking forward to the next round.”
Her statement hit him like the crack of a whip. He’d felt so connected to her, sotetheredto her by the imprint that was blooming in his chest and mind, and now he was reminded...
She only wanted to be his conquest. Not his mate.
His stomach twisted up, and he carefully gripped her torso and pulled her back down onto him. She came willingly, though her brows rose with surprise. Especially when he adjusted her to the side and his cock popped out of her pussy. The cold air hit him like the swing of a fist, but the sensation was short-lived as he concentrated on nestling his woman into the crook of his arm.
Her beautiful brown eyes were so big he could see little flecks of green in them he’d never noticed before. Her cheeks were flush bright pink, and her lips were swollen from his attention.
She felt like a dream made real.
“Ooh,” she murmured as she curled even tighter into him. One of her legs went up to rest atop his own, her cheek pressed into his shoulder, using his body as a pillow. Her lips gently grazed his chest, and his heart clenched. “This is nice.”
She relaxed into him, happy, content.
He was never going to give her up.
“We fit pretty good together, don’t we?” Her warm breath tickled.
“Like my favorite boots.”
There was a breath of silence where he realized what he’d said, and his throat constricted painfully from embarrassment before Trinia finally made a sound.
Laughter.
The full, rich sound was like the warmth of the sun after a bitterly cold night. He basked in it, jaw slacked slightly, eyes stuck on her face as he tried to memorize her joyful expression.
“Fades, I never thought I’d be compared to a pair of boots.” Trinia pushed her curly hair back and all the breath in his lungsexpelled in a rush, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. “Though I suppose it’s not the most insulting thing I’ve been compared to.”
Brovdir’s delight extinguished and simmering rage took its place. “Who?”
She rose her brows at him. “I’m not sure it would be a good idea to tell you.”
He growled low, and she didn’t even flinch.
“Besides, I’ve already taken care of it.”
Unless their noses were crooked, or they walked with a limp, he couldn’t imagine they’d been adequately brought to justice.
She smirked as if she read his mind. “No, I didn’t injure them. I did somethingfarworse. I refuse to trade with them.”
His brows pinched in confusion.
She curled into him, willingly snuggling up. His imprint was a blissful, thumping mess of gratitude. He felt like he was floating.
She stroked her fingers over one of the scars on his chest. “I’m the only decent baker in Oakwall. People can make their own bread, of course, but it’s a lot of work to mill the grain and I’m the only one with a crank turned grinder to make that task easy. I have a handful people or so that are blacklisted.”
Her eyes took on a haunted quality that sucked out his breath. “Or... I guess Iwasthe only decent baker. I suppose no one will be getting my bread now, enemy or not.”
Fuck, her sadness felt like a spear through his heart. He stroked back her still damp hair. “You are a strong, beautiful woman. Must have many enemies. Many jealous competitors.”
Her cheeks went flush with embarrassment. “N-not really.”
He didn’t want her bashful. “I’d help you vanquish them if you’d let me.”
She snorted, amusement chasing away the sadness in her eyes. “You gonna cut them down with your claws and ruin the peace between our communities?”
