After lunch break on another deserted river bend, Wren joins Ozork for the afternoon. I worry that she might feel like I’m trying to push her away, but she seems to have accepted Ozork as a favorite uncle of sorts, and he insists he doesn’t mind it at all. So when we put away the remaining food and everyone has returned from the bushes, I climb up next to Vark and sit on the bench by his side.
He slackens the reins with which he’d been holding the horses back and clicks his tongue to get the animals moving. We join the road again, our caravan alone on this long stretch of empty countryside. With every pothole we drive over, the wagon sways, and us with it. My shoulder bumps his, once, twice. We bounce over another hole, and Vark grumbles something under his breath, wraps his right arm around my shoulders, and pulls me into his side.
I sit very still. My leg is pressed to his from ankle to hip, my upper arm digging into his side. The road is quiet but for the clopping of the horses’ hooves and the squeak and rumble of the wagon. The day is overcast, with thick gray clouds hanging low, announcing that our luck with the weather might change soon. A bird of prey calls somewhere in the distance, and the river rushes on our left, but with the other wagons ahead of us, we’re all alone.
With every passing moment, I relax slightly. Vark’s arm is heavy around my shoulders, but he’s holding me lightly—if I tried to move away, I know I could. His warmth permeates through the layers of our clothes. It’s better than the blanket draped over my knees.
Which reminds me…
I take the blanket, shake it out, and cover Vark’s knees as well, wrapping us in a cocoon together.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice betraying his amusement.
I dip my head in a nod, then burrow my hands under the blanket. Unsurprisingly, his side of our little shelter is much cozier than mine, so I tentatively push my hands over there.
My fingertips brush the leather of his pants, and Vark sucks in a breath through his teeth.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, shying back. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right, pet,” he says.
He puts his hand under the blanket and moves my hands back to where they were before, on top of his leg. And he takes his hand away, handling the reins with ease. He keeps his gaze on the road, and I’d think he was completely unaffected, but there’s his tell again—the pulsing vein in his neck, giving away how fast his heart is beating.
I should remove my hands from his leg. I really should. I don’t need him. Yesterday, I made it through the entire day without leeching off his body warmth, and there is no way this will end well.
But I can’t force myself to do it.
His presence is addictive, and every hour spent next to him has me forgetting more of my reservations. The reasons for keeping away evaporate from my mind.
I put both hands on his leg, palms flat—so I can get the most heat from him, I tell myself. The frigid wind that whips through the countryside is cool on my cheeks, but I’m far from being cold. My insides are burning up, and I love it.
Slowly, so as not to startle him, I squeeze my fingers gently. His thigh is just so muscular. He’s powerfully built, I knew that from training with him, but the hard slabs of his muscle are fascinating. With this kind of a body, you’d think he was slow in a fight, but that’s far from the truth. Vark is nature’s perfect construct, a lethal predator.
“You can slide your palms up if you want,” he rumbles suddenly. “There’s parts of me that are hotter than my leg.”
I look up at him, startled, and find him smirking at me. My cheeks flame, but there’s a challenge in his gaze that I can’t help but answer.
He’s trying to scare me away again. He’s employing the same technique as when he showed himself to me, naked. But I know what he’s doing this time. I know what he thinks I’m going to do.
And if there’s anything I learned in my life, it’s that it’s good to surprise people from time to time.
Holding my breath, I do exactly as he asked. Inch by inch, I push my hands higher up Vark’s leg. His quick inhale is gratifying—he didn’t expect this.
“Hazel,” he growls.
It’s a warning, but he doesn’t stop me. Instead, he draws me closer to his side, his fingers closing around my upper arm. I don’t know what he’ll do if I touch it, but now I want to find out. The scent of him intensifies, filling my senses. My breath comes in shallow pants, steaming between us.
I glance up. He’s staring at me—not at his lap—his gaze sharp and burning.
I reach for him. My fingers graze the hard bulge of his cock, contained behind the leather of his pants, and my brain rebels. Surely it can’t be this big? I saw it last night at the river, but at a distance. Hard and hot, his cock presses into my palm, and I can’t help but squeeze.
Vark groans, his eye fluttering shut. I throw a glance over my shoulder, at the horses, but they’re content to follow the wagon in front. So I run my fingers higher, feeling his cockhead through the leather.
“Fuck,” Vark curses, rocking his hips forward slightly. “Hazel…”
“Yes?” I breathe.
“If you don’t mean to do this,” he forces out through gritted teeth, “if you don’t want to—”
“I want to,” I assure him.
With one hand, I stroke his thick shaft, my grip firm. With the other, I dip below and palm his heavy balls—though the shape seems different than I expected, with another bulge at the bottom of his cock, above the balls.
I want to ask Vark what that is, but he seems in no shape to talk. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and he lets out a low growl that reverberates against me. He leans into me and runs the tip of his nose over my temple, inhaling deeply.
“You smell so good,” he mutters, then licks my ear. “You’re making it very difficult to keep my hands off you.”
His tongue is slightly rough, and I shiver at the contact. I imagine what it would feel like to have him lick me…elsewhere. I’ve had my fair share of lovers, but none had me this hot without even touching skin to skin. Sex has always been a necessity or a quick release, but this—this male is unlike any I’ve been with.
“Ah, pet, your scent.” He groans. “I need to taste you.”
I stare up at him with eyes wide open and my hand stills on his cock. “T-taste?”
Vark narrows his eye. “Aye, taste.”
My mind goes blank, so all I can utter is, “How?”
He chuckles. “For now, I’ll ask you to dip your fingers into your pussy and let me lick your fingers. Tonight, I’ll take my time with you.”
He wants to… Oh gods. Instinctively, I tighten my hand around his cock, and he groans, then nudges me lightly.
“Really?” I whisper.
Vark dips his chin in a nod. He ties the reins on the ring in front of him, letting the horses clop along at their own pace. Then he grabs me by the waist and lifts me into his lap.
I squeak in surprise. “Vark!”
“Mm,” he hums, sniffing my neck. “I want to lick you all over.”
I giggle when his tusks scrape over the sensitive point where my neck meets my shoulder. “Anyone could see.”
“There’s no one here,” he answers. “And besides, that’s half the fun.”
Gasping, I stare at him. “You mean you want to get caught?”
He shrugs. “You humans care too much about others. But aye, I want to show off how beautiful my mate is, flushed pink with lust.”
I slap his shoulder. “You shouldn’t say such things.” Yet I can’t stop the rush of pleasure that courses through me at his compliment.
He thinks I’m beautiful.
I’ve never been called beautiful.
I know it’s only a twist of fate that’s making him believe I’m perfect for him, but maybe I enjoy it a little. Still, I have to know something before we do…anything more.
“Listen,” I say. “This mate thing.”
Vark lifts his head from where he’s been trying to untie the delicate laces at the neckline of my tunic. “What about it?”
“Is it…” I try to find the right words. “Is it forcing you to be attracted to me? Would I be taking advantage of you? As if you were drunk, I mean?”
Vark stares at me in surprise for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs. He has a booming, infectious laugh that has me smiling grudgingly, even though he’s clearly laughing at me. This is the first time I’ve seen him so amused, and I find myself fascinated with the small lines that fan out from the corner of his eye.
Finally, he leans his forehead against mine. “No, Hazel. It’s not forcing me to do anything. It’s as if…” He thinks for a moment, gazing off into the distance, then back at me. “It’s as if I’m seeing clearly for the first time in my life. And all I want is you.”
I melt at this. For a brutish orc warrior, he sure has a way with words. “All right,” I whisper, placing my palms on his chest. “I had to ask.”
His breath fans over my lips. “As for taking advantage of me…” He presses a soft, barely there kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You can do that any time you like.”
