We’re some of the only people at the baths as most orcs are still at breakfast or busy with work. Steagor strides all the way to the back, where we’re hidden by the vapors rising from the hot water, and where the lamps are dimmed, creating a dangerous illusion of privacy. Here, we could as well be the only people in the Hill, but the sound carries nonetheless. I hear faint, whispered conversations from other bathers, but the dripping and splashing of the streams that flow into the pools creates an ambient noise that drowns out the exact words.
“Undress for me, sweet,” Steagor murmurs as he sets me down by the pool.
I step away from him and turn, giving him my back. I can unlace my dress myself, since I’ve given up wearing stays, but where’s the fun in that? His hot breath caresses my neck, and he gently tugs on my laces, loosening the dress around me. Then I face him again and slowly draw down my soft woolen dress, first slipping it from my shoulders, then letting it fall to the floor.
Steagor’s sharp inhale is his only reaction to seeing me in my new shift. I designed it for comfort but I couldn’t resist adding some special touches to the almost sheer fabric—a strategically placed bow just under my breasts that accentuates my figure, or the ties at my shoulders that just beg to be undone.
I lift my hand to my left shoulder and tug on the ribbon. It unravels slowly, and Steagor narrows his eyes, leaning forward. My heart thuds so loudly, he must hear it with his superior senses, but the way he stares at me gives me a rush of power I’ve never felt in my life. All his attention is on me and that little ribbon.
I give another tug, and the knot falls apart, allowing my shift to slip from my shoulder. The fabric stops at the swell of my breast, barely covering me. My nipples are hard points, so sensitive that I gasp at the drag of the soft fabric over my skin. Wetness pools between my legs, my pussy throbbing with need. I want to draw this out, see if Steagor will lose control, but I don’t know how long I can hold on. Soon, I’ll give in and launch myself at him.
The bow on my right shoulder is all that’s keeping my shift on me, and I reach for it, still staring straight into Steagor’s eyes. But before I can even touch the ribbon, he snaps. I see the moment his willpower breaks, and he lunges forward, grabbing me by the waist. He hooks one finger under the ribbon and rips it easily, then shoves my shift down with one swift push. I’m suddenly naked in his arms, but I don’t care because he fits his mouth over mine and kisses me deeply, our tongues tangling. I open up for him, giving back all of my pent-up want and frustration.
Panting, Steagor breaks the kiss and sets me away from him. “Get in the water, Poppy.”
His voice is gravelly, the command unmistakable. I don’t even think before I obey, I just turn away from him and crouch at the edge of the pool. Steagor growls behind me, and when I glance over my shoulder, he’s focused on my ass. Hiding a grin, I sit on the warm stone lip of the pool, then hop into the water, submerging myself to my neck.
“Are you joining me?” I ask, floating backward toward the far end of the small pool. “Or are you content to watch?”
He glowers at me, but he reaches for the laces of his leather pants nonetheless. “What would I be watching if I remained right here?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. “I don’t know if you’d see all that much.”
Without waiting for him, I submerge my hands and cup my breasts. From Steagor’s impatience, I know he sees at least some of what I’m doing. As I pinch and massage my nipples, he rips his pants away, freeing his magnificent cock. It’s hard and leaking at the tip, the knot at the base already swollen to the size of my fist. My pussy clenches around emptiness, and I squeeze my thighs together, wishing he’d hurry up and claim me.
But he’s not naked yet. His shirt sticks to his body, damp from the vapors. I admire the muscles visible under the nearly translucent linen, the thick arms, the bulging shoulders. He’s so strong, and he’s all mine. I squeeze my nipples harder, gasping, and he throws the leather pants away without looking where they land.
Then he drops to a crouch and jumps into the pool, sending ripples of water lapping at me. I stare at him, at his soaking wet shirt, which leaves nothing to the imagination, and remember how he reacted when I’d accidentally brushed over the scar on his neck. My chest squeezes at the thought that Steagor still isn’t comfortable around me. Or not comfortable enough to show me all of himself anyway.
I float closer to him and stop an arm’s length away from him. He could catch me if he wanted to, but he stares at me, waiting.
“Will you show me your back?” I whisper.
He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, there’s anguish in the dark depths of his gaze. “I wish you wouldn’t ask that of me.”
I think carefully of what to say. I don’t want to ruin this moment, but I hate that he thinks he should hide himself from me.
“Vark told me about your family,” I say finally. “About how they were killed.”
He frowns at me, taking a step back, and my stomach twists painfully. If this was the wrong path to take, I don’t know how to pivot and make things right.
“Vark talks too much.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I hurry to say. “He wouldn’t tell me anything about your scars. But I asked about your family because you seemed so…alone.”
Steagor’s mouth turns down at the corners, and he runs his palm over his face in a defeated gesture. My heart breaks for this big male. He must be so used to being on his own, he doesn’t know how to let me in—and I understand that. I really do.
So I hop forward, buoyed by the water, until we’re nearly chest to chest. And I reach up to cup his face, tracing my thumb over the old scar that bisects his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch, the small movement sending relief coursing through me. If he jerked away from me and rejected my attempt to make this right, I don’t know what else I could do.
“I love you,” I whisper. “All of you.”
His eyes open, shock written clear on his features. “What?”
I can’t help but smile. “I said, I love you. And I don’t care about some scars. You’re mine. Just as you are.”
His rough exhale caresses my cheek as he leans down to touch his forehead to mine. “You’re claiming me, sweet?”
“I am.” I run my fingers down to his chest and splay my palm over his heart. “And you’re claiming me. Right now.”
He lets out a shaky laugh. “Am I? All right, then.”
Slowly, he reaches for the back of his collar and tugs at his shirt. The wet fabric sticks to his skin, so he pulls harder, and the shirt rips by the seams. Steagor removes the tatters from his body and tosses them out of the pool. Then he stands in front of me, his chest heaving.
From the front, his body doesn’t seem that badly hurt. He has a couple of old scars, silvery against his green skin, but that’s all normal for a warrior like him. He could have gotten these as part of his training, even, without ever seeing battle.
Then he turns and braces his hands on the lip of the pool. My breath sticks in my throat, nausea rising, and I choke back a horrified sound.
His back is a ruin. There’s more scar tissue than skin, and it’s a miracle Steagor survived an injury like this. There’s no telling whether all the damage was done in one day or it was inflicted over and over, giving him time to heal in between. I’ve never seen anything like this, so I can’t tell what happened for sure, but from the long lashes of scarring running to the edges of his back, to his shoulders and buttocks, I guess he was whipped bloody at some point in his life. The scars are long healed, the tissue gnarly, but I wonder if they still hurt.
“Oh, Steagor,” I whisper finally.
He hangs his head. “I don’t want your pity.”
I swallow thickly and grit my teeth, forcing my tears back. When I have a handle on myself, I force out the words, “I don’t pity you. I want to murder the bastard who did this.”
Steagor barks out a low laugh and glances at me over his shoulder. “He’s half dead by all accounts. Old King Trak.”
With shaking fingers, I reach out to touch the very end of one of the scars. “If he dies of natural causes, that’s too good of a fate for him.”
Steagor shudders at the first brush of my fingertips over his skin. His whole body is tense, his fingers gripping the stone edge of the pool until his knuckles turn pale. “So vicious,” he rasps.
Encouraged because he hasn’t run away from me, I get in closer, molding my chest to his back. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze tight to show him that I’m not going anywhere. He clutches at my hand and laces his fingers with mine, then lifts both to his mouth to press a hot kiss to my palm.
Steagor turns around slowly, another shudder racking his body. “You are perfect, little mate.”
I shake my head vehemently. “I’m not. I just want to protect you. You probably think it’s laughable, with how small I am compared to you, but I would kill to save you from this pain if I could.”
He cups my face with both palms. “You’re perfect for me. And I will protect you from now on. You understand that?”
