Two months later, on the eve of the autumn equinox
I stand in front of the open chest that holds my dresses and look down at my bust in dismay. The silk fabric, which used to be snug but not too tight, strains over my breasts and pushes them up in a most inappropriate way.
For human standards, that is.
I’m not bothered by the fact that I’m showing more flesh than usual anymore—not since I’ve become used to the orc habits and have come to love my body, whether it’s clothed or not. No, I’m concerned about my ability to breathe in this dress, noble as it is, because it’s honestly constricting my lungs and my movements.
But it will have to do. I haven’t had the heart to give the seamstresses we’ve hired an order for clothing because it seems so frivolous compared to the much more important task they’ve been working on—preparing our first shipment of ladies’ products that will be taken to Ultrup next week.
After the mess with the Boar Clan orcs, it took Gorvor weeks to calm down enough that he allowed me to visit town. He came along, of course, leaving the Hill in Steagor’s capable hands for the first time in years, and we had double the usual number of guards with us. But I visited several ladies’ clothes merchants and formed new friendships with women who were astonished by the samples I’d brought with me.
From then on, the enthusiasm for my business venture has only grown, and I’m hopeful it’ll become successful in the future. Gorvor has been with me every step of the way, supporting me and helping out, and has given me enough funds to get things off the ground.
But as much as I hate bothering the seamstresses in this busy time, I think I’ll need to talk to them soon.
My courses are several weeks late, and I’m fairly sure I’m pregnant.
Hence the tight dress and the sensitive breasts. I don’t think Gorvor has put the signs together yet—he hasn’t said anything, and I think orc women might experience pregnancy a little differently. So I will tell him tonight, after the feast, which he promised will be unlike anything I’ve been used to so far.
In his words, this is a harvest celebration where we plant seed for the new year and thank the gods for the bounty of our fields. Orcs from the surrounding villages will join in on the celebration, and apparently, it goes on late into the night.
I place my palm on my still-flat belly. A giddy shiver passes through me. This time next year, I’ll have a baby to cuddle and take care of. Our little son or daughter will be born out of love, to parents who will be overjoyed to greet a new life.
But now I am running behind, and it won’t do for the queen to be late. I place the thin iron circlet that Gorvor had made for me on my head and secure it with a couple of pins. It’s simple and effective—and when I stand beside Gorvor, I think we look so good together.
Hurrying to the door, I pick up my lantern and throw open the bolt. Then I pull open the door—and stop.
The corridor is lit up, a string of lanterns going in both directions from our room.
“Oh!”
My hand flies to my mouth, and I blink hard to banish the happy tears that spring up in my eyes. Gorvor must have done this. He lit up our home for me, so I won’t have to carry the lantern anymore.
I find Steagor and Neekar standing at attention, splendid in their new tunics with the black bear emblem stitched into the collars. They grin at me, even serious Steagor, and I suppose I do look funny, gaping at all the pretty lights. I return their smiles, carry the lantern back into the bedroom, and start down the corridor, eager to join the king at the feast. The only thing that dims my excitement a little is my disappointment at the fact that Vark still hasn’t returned to his post.
The big guard had recovered from his injuries, though the head wound had nearly taken his life. Steagor had found him in that corridor and carried him down the steep staircase, bellowing for help, until other orcs heard him and helped him lug Vark’s heavy body to the infirmary. There, Vark had fought for his life as an infection had set in, and he’d barely made it through.
He’d lost his left eye, and he’d taken the injury hard. Ever since he left the infirmary a couple of weeks ago, he has been resting and recovering his strength, and every time Gorvor has asked him whether he was ready to resume his guard duties, he has asked for more time. I’d tried to talk to him, but he has been avoiding me. I haven’t pressed the issue yet, though maybe I’ll have to—I want to apologize to him because he got hurt to protect me.
We hear the music first, a lively tune played on a fiddle with many voices joining in. Then the orange glow of the torches—so much stronger than the diffuse glow of the lanterns—announces we are getting close. Steagor puts out an arm before we round a bend in the corridor, stopping me. He peers around the corner and only then waves me forward, as if he expects someone to jump out at me at any moment.
I haven’t commented on his overprotectiveness, not wanting to bring up bad feelings for him. He has been dealing with some guilt of his own because he thinks he should have been present when Vark and I were attacked. No matter how many times I tell him he wasn’t to blame, he is still convinced he shouldn’t have left his post.
Maybe I need to find both males together and force them to sit and have an honest conversation with me. And while we’re at it, bring in Gorvor and his brother, who is still being held in the Hill, not exactly a prisoner because his room is comfortable enough, yet definitely not free.
But tonight is not the right time. Tonight, we welcome orcs and humans from all over our kingdom and celebrate another successful harvest.
I step into the light and pause, grinning. The great hall has never looked more inviting. Mara and I have planned the event to the last detail, and we commandeered a group of maids and warriors to help us hang garlands from the ceiling and place bushels of apples and pumpkins around the place to make it festive. The flags carrying the black bear emblem hang by the entrances, celebrating our clan.
I find Gorvor with my gaze. He’s seated at our table, and he’s staring at me with such heat, I flush despite the distance between us. I thank my guards for bringing me here and dismiss them for the night—they should be allowed to enjoy the dinner and the party as much as everyone else.
I make my way through the crowd, greeting everyone I pass. With every step, I feel the king’s gaze on me, and I purposefully meander a little more, prolonging the moment. It’s a slow dance of seduction, meant only for us. From the corner of my eye, I keep watching him, too. He accepts compliments from the chief of one of the villages and greets the farmers from another settlement. He brings his cup to his lips and takes a long swallow of mead, but all the while, his focus is on me.
I grow damp between my legs as I stop to chat with the herbalist, who takes one look at my full breasts and lifts one eyebrow in a questioning manner. I give her a quick nod and promise to come see her that week. She will be able to help me with any questions I have about the baby I’m carrying—one who will come into this world with green skin and a strong set of lungs, if the other babies I’ve seen around here are any indication.
By the time I make it to our table, my breathing is out of control, and I want to drag the king back to our bedroom and make love to him all night. This celebration can’t be more important than our mate bond, can it?
He grabs me by the wrist and tugs me closer the moment I come within his reach. “Hello, little mate. You are beautiful tonight.”
My grin is wide when I answer, “And you look very handsome, my lord.”
He growls and yanks me to him, hauling me into his lap. He completely disregards the fact that some kind soul has placed a second carved chair at the big table for me.
“You sit here,” he murmurs in my ear.
“You’ll hear no complaints from me.” I melt against his chest and lift my hands to his shoulders. “Thank you for the lights in the corridors. They are wonderful.”
Gorvor grumbles in reply, then leans down and kisses me, invading my mouth with his hot tongue. His warm palms land on my ass, and he brings me closer, rubbing me lightly up and down to let me feel his erection. It strains thick and hard behind the laces of his leather pants.
“I’ve been wanting you,” he rumbles. “And you made me wait even longer.”
Only the rumbling of my stomach keeps me in place. If I wasn’t so hungry, I’d get up right now, grab Gorvor’s hand, and drag him from the hall, propriety be damned.
But my mate chuckles and hands me a plate filled with the best delicacies the cook and the kitchen staff have prepared for tonight. Mixed among the known food are items that the guests have brought, and I try a little bit of everything as orcs come by our table to greet us and talk to their king.
Speeches are an important part of every orc ceremony, including one from Gorvor in which he compliments his people and thanks them for helping with keeping our kingdom prosperous and safe. Orcs cheer, lifting their goblets of mead, and more music follows, with people bursting into song here and there. Some couples stand and start dancing, and others encourage them by clapping loudly and thumping their feet.
It’s a happy celebration of a season that was both bountiful and hard, happy and dangerous. But we all made it through, and we needed this evening to acknowledge it.
After a particularly lively dance, Vark steps up to the table and bows to us. His left eye is still covered with a bandage, but his right is as sharp as ever.
I sit forward in Gorvor’s lap, smiling at him. “Vark! I’m so glad you could join us.”
His skin turns a shade grayer, and he keeps his gaze on the platter in front of us. “My lady. My king.”
Biting my lip, I glance back at Gorvor. I don’t know what to do with this taciturn Vark, so different from the flirtatious and happy male who used to guard me so well.
The king leans his elbow on the armrest of his throne and asks, “Have you come to tell me you are ready to resume your duties? I am glad.”
Vark clenches his jaw, then visibly forces himself to relax. He raises his chin higher and says, “I would like to be reassigned.”
My belly twists with an unpleasant sensation. “What? Why?”
He darts a gaze my way, then focuses on Gorvor behind me. “I’ve failed you. So I would like to resign my post as the queen’s guard and make myself useful elsewhere.”
“You didn’t fail me,” I begin. “You almost gave your life to save me, Vark, and I don’t—”
Gorvor squeezes my knee and lets out a thoughtful hum. I cut off my flood of words, glancing anxiously between the two men.
“Is that what you want to do?” the king asks Vark.
The warrior dips his chin in a nod. “Aye, my king.”
“Very well.” Gorvor releases my knee and brushes his hand over it, soothing. “Report to Ozork tomorrow. He will give you your new assignment.”
With a deep bow, Vark departs. He doesn’t look back at me, and he leaves the great hall without talking to anyone else.
I turn to Gorvor and widen my eyes. “What was that? You’re just letting him go?”
His palm strokes up and down my back, and he seems thoughtful, almost sad.
“Would you have him stay on as your guard even though he doesn’t want it?” he asks quietly.
“I— No, of course not,” I stammer, taken aback. “But he’s clearly going through something, and he’s avoiding talking about it.”
“And forcing him to return to his post would solve this?”
His lips quirk up in a small smile, but I don’t think he’s making fun of me. He’s giving me the bigger picture.
I cross my arms over my chest. “No,” I answer sullenly. “But I hate seeing him so defeated.”
Gorvor squeezes my hip. “He will return once he works out what he wants to do. I don’t believe he will be gone for long.”
I bite my lip, worrying about the big warrior. But the king is right. Vark needs to get through this on his own. I only hope he knows we’re here to help if he needs us.
I glance over at Steagor and Neekar. Their watchful gazes scan the crowd, though they’re more relaxed than I’ve seen them in a long time. I hope they’ll stay on in our ranks, but at the same time, I wish they found their own mates as well. Now that I understand how much Gorvor has craved what we have, I want everyone to experience the same.
More guests come to the king’s table to talk to us, to offer gifts and receive counsel, to report on new births and deaths, or to announce new matings. Gorvor listens to each and every one of them with complete attention, and I do my best to remember the people, their names, and their occupations, because I want to be as good a queen as he is a king.
When orcs return to their tables at last and focus on their food, Gorvor settles me back in his lap and leans his chin on top of my head.
“I love you, little mate,” he says quietly.
Heat rises in my cheeks, and I kiss the exposed sliver of green skin at his neck. “I love you, too.”
He brings his arms around me, and his hand brushes my sensitive breast. I shiver but don’t react, thinking he did it by accident. But when he presses his palm over my core, cupping me through the fabric, I gasp, flushing harder.
“Gorvor, there are people here. We can’t—”
“Look around, Dawn,” he says, his voice burning with intensity.
He turns me in his lap and settles my ass over his hard cock. His hand traces my belly, the heat of it seeping through my dress and shift. I’m too distracted at first to know what he means, but once I focus my gaze on what’s going on, I still, observing the orcs below us.
One by one, the torches in the great hall are dimmed, creating a sultry, intimate atmosphere. Elderly orcs lead the children out by various exits, and adolescents follow, dragging their feet. On a low stage, performers are setting up their act, the musicians and actors warming up to give the orc king and his court some entertainment. Noise rises in the underground dome, echoes multiplying the sounds of conversation and the clinking of cups and dishes.
Gorvor’s hand skims up, and he cups my breast, squeezing. In the dim light of the great hall, his movements are half concealed, and for once, no one is looking at us. Instead, all eyes are trained on the performers…only that’s not entirely true. The show is there only for the background, but the orcs are intent on each other, tension rising in the room.
The king pinches my nipple, and I gasp, instinctively rocking my hips back. My ass meets his thick cock. A shiver runs through me, my nipples drawing into stiff, sensitive points. I love it when he worships my body, but we’ve never done anything quite so…public.
We’re definitely not the only ones in the room succumbing to the languid, seductive atmosphere created by the low drums and flickering torchlight. An orc male disappears under his partner’s skirts, and she leans back on the table, eyes closed in bliss. A human man braces his arms on the wall while his orc lover grinds his hips into him from behind, both still clothed but probably not for long.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, tilting my head to the side to catch Gorvor’s gaze.
His grin is feral, his eyes glimmering with heat. “It’s a harvest festival.”
“What does that mean?”
I can’t resist peeking at a trio of orcs, all in various stages of undress, kissing, licking, touching.
“We plant our seed tonight,” Gorvor murmurs against my neck, then presses a hot kiss to my skin.
“Our seed—oh!” The realization dawns on me, and I shudder from excitement. “Really?”
“It’s our way to thank the gods for the harvest.” He kisses his way up my neck, his tusks adding to the sensation. “And make sure the next year is fertile as well.”
Orcs aren’t self-conscious about sex and their bodies, that much I’ve learned already, but it’s one thing to know something and another thing entirely to experience it first-hand.
Yet I’m not shrinking away. Gorvor inches up the skirts of my dress with one hand while his other is still at my breast, teasing my nipple through the fabric.
“Gorvor,” I whisper. “A-are you sure?”
He hums behind me, and the sound reverberates inside me, sparking off my too-tight nerves. “You will like it, little mate.”
“And if I don’t?” I insist, though my voice grows breathier with every caress.
He grabs my chin with one hand and turns me halfway around so I’m forced to look him in his eyes. “Then I will stop.”
I let out a shuddering exhale. That was all I needed to know. “All right.”
A flash of warm approval enters his gaze, and he kisses me, licking into my mouth with his hot, talented tongue. I whimper and cling to him, urgency rising inside me now he has promised me safety. A low groan echoes through the room from someone who has clearly found pleasure. But I don’t glance around to see who it is. I only have eyes for my mate.
Suddenly, he tears himself from the kiss and shifts me on his lap so I’m facing away from him again. With movements that border on rough, he yanks my knees apart, so I’m spread completely, and anchors me against his chest with one massive arm. If I wasn’t wearing a dress, I’d be obscenely spread out for anyone to see, and the thought of it has my pussy growing wet.
Only with Gorvor have I ever felt this way.
Now he reaches under my dress, rucking up the silk in a seductive rustle. Anyone looking at us would know what we’re doing immediately, but I’m covered enough that I’m not on display for anyone, and neither is the king.
The thrill of it only adds to my arousal.
Nothing in my life has prepared me for this moment. But I want it. I don’t know what I’d do if Gorvor threw me on the table and fucked me there in front of everyone, like another male is doing to his mate at the other end of the hall. She clearly enjoys it, her moans mingling with the rising voices of the others who are participating in this fertility ritual.
Would I tell him to stop, to let me go? Or scream my pleasure out loud for all the hall to hear?
His thick, warm fingers skim up my thigh, and I hold my breath, gritting my teeth so I don’t cry out the moment he reaches my core. But the evil orc doesn’t go straight for the prize. With clever touches, he drives me wild, tracing the seam of my leg and the softness of my inner thighs, all the while nuzzling my neck, giving me little biting kisses that soon have me panting in his arms.
Right when I’m about to demand more, he finally slips his fingers to my pussy, easily parting me. He growls a rough curse, his big body tensing all around me. He pulls me tighter against his chest, and I deliberately roll my hips over his heavy cock, teasing as much as I can in return.
“Wicked,” he murmurs in my ear. “When you walked up to me that first day, all dirty and defiant, I never dreamed I would get to have you like this.”
Without warning, he presses a calloused pad of his forefinger on my pearl and flicks it, hard. My back bows in pleasure, and I bite my lip to keep a yelp from escaping.
“You’re so wet for me,” he purrs. “You’re perfect. I’ll fill you up, and you’ll ride me in front of everyone.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I need you.”
Gorvor curses again, and a moment later, he lifts me easily with one arm while he fumbles with his laces. Then the bare backs of my thighs meet his naked skin, and I know this is it. I could stop him. But I need this more than I need my next breath.
He hooks his hands beneath my legs, and I reach between us to grasp his cock. It’s hot and thick, the broad green head already slick with precum, and I smear it all over, readying him for me. The bulging knot at the bottom pulses with heat, and I wonder, as I always seem to do, if it’ll fit, if my body was made for this.
But Gorvor is already lowering me, so I hold his cock firm and notch it in place. The first push through my slick pussy is always a shock, the stretch almost too much. He doesn’t give me time to reconsider. Gravity takes hold, and I slide down his thickness, inch by inch, until my ass meets his groin.
Gorvor’s rough exhale over my bare neck is the only sign that he’s as affected by this as I am. I palm the back of his head, running my fingers through his silky hair. And when he digs his fingers into my thighs and lifts me again, then jerks me down, I dig my nails into his neck, holding on.
The sensation of being so full is incredible. I writhe in Gorvor’s arms to make him speed up his movements, but he doesn’t obey. He fucks me slowly, keeping his hands on my waist so he controls the rhythm. Every push of his thick cock through my aching pussy brings me closer to bliss, and I hold on as best I can, closing my eyes at the sensations coursing through me.
Then he buries one hand back under my skirts and finds my pearl with his fingers. The first brush of his rough pad over the sensitive spot has me crying out. I clap my hand over my mouth, horrified at the thought of the others hearing me.
But Gorvor nips the side of my neck and growls, “Don’t hold back. Let them hear you. Let them hear how well I’m fucking you.”
His words release something in my chest, and I grow wetter in a rush, taking Gorvor all the way to his knot, which pushes rudely at my pussy every time he drags me down over his length. His fingers at my center strum that delicate part of me, and I give myself over to the moment, relaxing my muscles.
“Gorvor,” I whisper. “I’m pregnant.”
The words slip from my mouth, a confession I’d meant to save for later. But even though we’re in the presence of so many others, this moment is so intimate. It’s about us, enjoying each other’s bodies, loving and safe.
My mate stills behind me, and I feel the thundering beat of his heart at my back.
“Are you sure?” he rasps.
I bite my lip and nod quickly.
His massive body shudders, then he grasps my chin and turns my head to the side. He kisses me roughly, until I’m whimpering with desire. I clench my inner muscles around his cock, so close to coming but unable to tumble over the edge.
At last, he pulls back and looks right into my eyes. “You have given me the most beautiful gift, my mate.”
I smile, unable to stem the flow of happy tears. “And you to me.”
Gorvor grins, then wraps his arms around me and reaches under my skirts again. “I’m going to make you come so hard, Dawn. Over and over again, and then I’ll bring you gifts and food.” He rocks me over his cock in a renewed rhythm, each thrust gaining in strength. “You won’t want for anything.”
“I know,” I pant. “You always take care of me.”
He presses down on my sensitive button, and I shatter, screaming in bliss. I slide farther down, taking Gorvor’s knot, and he pumps faster until he bellows, his head thrown back. Jets of liquid heat fill me, and the pulsing of his knot triggers another climax, until we collapse back on the throne together, sweaty and sated.
Slowly, reality intrudes on our happy little bubble. I become aware of the great hall around us, of the orcs fucking and kissing and dancing without a care in the world. I’m sure some of them saw and heard us, but they don’t care—this festival is about giving and receiving pleasure, the most natural thing in the world.
“I knew you would like it,” Gorvor mutters, his expression smug. “My mate has come to enjoy the orc ways.”
“I had a wonderful teacher,” I say, leaning back against his warm chest. “The best.”
He smooths my skirts over us, giving us privacy. The knot locks us together, and we remain in place, content to watch the performance for a while. Then I squeeze my inner muscles again, and he groans, his chuckle more than a little strained.
“If you want to be let off my cock anytime soon,” he rumbles in my ear, “you’d better behave.”
I bite my lip and squeeze him again, and he hisses, then takes my shoulders and pushes them forward, guiding me to brace my hands against the massive wood table still spread with the remains of our feast. Gorvor runs his palm over my back, and I send him a wicked grin over my shoulder. He knows exactly what I want, and he will always give it to me.
His smile is feral as he says, “Hold on, little mate.”
