Vark doesn’t seem to be aware of my turmoil. He picks up one of the sheets and cleans me gently, wiping away the last traces of his cum. I hold on to his broad shoulders, and when he tickles me on purpose, I tug lightly on his braid. We dress, and Vark helps me climb from the loft. Then he settles his cloak around my shoulders and tucks me into his side for the dash across the rain-slicked cobblestones of the inn’s courtyard.
I like being so close to him. Orcs are a very physical race, and even though I’ve never enjoyed so much human contact, my belly warms every time he’s near. And it’s not only that I want to rip his clothes off again already, even though he’s brought me to a delicious climax several times over. It’s a deeper, visceral need for his touch, even just his hand in mine.
He walks me to the door of our joint bedroom and kisses me soundly despite Ritta’s presence. She grins at me when I scurry past her into the darkened room and follows me more slowly while Vark takes the next watch in the hall.
While I was gone, the other orcs have come to rest for the night. Ozork and Lirg are already asleep in their beds, but Korr raises a hand in greeting, then indicates that Wren has been asleep this whole time.
I check on her anyway, dragging up the covers where she has kicked them off herself. She barely moves when I brush a tiny kiss on her cheek.
I take the cot next to hers, close enough that she will see me immediately if she should wake during the night. Then I close my eyes and drift off to sleep with the image of Vark’s handsome face in my mind.
In the morning, I wake up before Wren for once. It takes me a moment to remember where I am—I haven’t slept in a bed this comfortable in months, and I can’t quite reconcile the tension in my muscles with the soft pillow or the cozy blanket draped over me.
Then it all comes rushing back. The twinge between my legs is the result of having Vark’s massive cock stuffed inside me, and the rest of my body aches from the previous day’s training.
I grin and draw my blanket over my face to hide my blissful expression. This is real. Wren and I have escaped our previous life and found a new one that’s much, much better.
Quietly, so as not to wake my sleeping daughter, I fling the covers away from me and shiver as the cool morning air hits my skin. I’m tempted to burrow back under the blankets but I have things to do.
Korr, Ritta, and Lirg are still asleep, but Vark and Ozork are nowhere to be seen. I need to use the privy and find the clothes I left with the maids last night, so I check that Wren is still sound asleep and tiptoe from the room.
Ozork greets me in the hallway with a small smile that stretches the lines in his craggy face. “Good morning.”
“Hello,” I whisper.
He stoops and picks up a bundle of clothes. “Here. You’ll need these. Get dressed. Vark is waiting for you in the stables.”
I flush all over at the thought of the older orc knowing what Vark and I did last night.
He peers into my face, chuckles, and explains, “You’re late for training. I was about to wake you up myself if you didn’t get up soon.”
Oh.
Now I’m even more embarrassed. Of course Vark didn’t tell Ozork to send me down to the stables to fuck me again. I rush to the privy and dress, take Wren’s clothes and my nightgown back to the bedroom, and rush to the courtyard to greet Vark.
He shows me into an empty horse stall, and for a moment, I think we are about to continue what we started last night.
But Vark puts his fists on his hips and frowns down at me. “We’re going over fighting in close quarters today. It’s cold outside, and I think this will be a good lesson.”
I eye the stall—it’s small but still wide enough for me to turn with my hands outstretched. It must have been mucked out recently, because the straw and wood shavings covering the floor are fresh, which is good. I’ll likely land on my ass at least once this morning, and I don’t want to get my fresh clothes all dirty.
I face Vark again. “You’ll corner me and I’ll have to break free?”
He nods, a grimace twisting his lips. “If a man gets you inside a building, you won’t have a good range of motion to get him off you.”
Thinking of Timo’s men, I curse silently and prepare myself for Vark’s attack. “All right. Show me what I have to do.”
We train until I’m panting and shaking with exertion, and then Vark sets up an old wooden board in the courtyard and has me throw knives at it for a while. Finally, he’s satisfied for the day and escorts me back to the inn’s entryway. I smell the eggs and the frying bacon, as well as the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked bread, and my feet carry me forward as if on their own.
But Vark puts a hand on my shoulder and stops me. “Hold on, pet. I have something for you.” He opens his palm and passes me two of his throwing knives. “I want you to have these. They’re well balanced, and you’ve been training with—oof.”
I throw my arms around him, happiness exploding in my chest. “Thank you!”
He chuckles and wraps his free arm around my waist. “Hey, now. If you kill me accidentally, our bet is off, you know.”
I snort. “I think you may have duped me with that bet. I’m starting to believe you’re invincible.”
I mean it as a joke, but he sobers quickly and shakes his head.
“Not invincible,” he says. “And if I’m vulnerable, so are you. Which is why I want you to have these. Your best chance of winning any fight is to keep the attacker far away from you. At the Hill, you’ll start training with a bow. Orsha will take care of it.”
Ah. He’s thinking about his injury and his brush with death. I understand, but I hate that he’s still acting as though his defeat at the hands of those orcs was a failure somehow.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the knives. “These are wonderful.”
I tuck one in my boot and the other in my sleeve, deciding to retire my basic shiv after its many years of service. Vark is right. Throwing knives are a better weapon than daggers for me because they’ll allow me to stay far away from any attackers.
His expression is still grim as we make our way back to our room. The orcs have mostly packed their belongings, but Wren is still asleep.
“We kept quiet,” Lirg tells me when I enter the room. He’s been keeping mostly to himself, but he watches Wren with a small smile on his face. “My boys are always up at dawn, so I’m not used to children sleeping in, but we didn’t have the heart to wake her.”
That they cared enough to do that… My heart fills with happiness at the thought. I thank him quietly, then cross over to where Wren is buried under a mound of covers. I gently shake her awake, and she blinks up at me, her cheeks pink, her blue eyes still sleepy. Then she smiles and sits up, allowing me to fold her in a hug.
“I dreamt that I was a forest fairy,” she whispers. “With a pretty dress.”
I think of the gold mark sitting in my pocket. “We can get you a new dress, I think. I bet the orcs have a seamstress at the Hill.”
“We do,” Korr says from the other side of the room. “I heard Steagor’s mate is excellent at making dresses.”
I glance over my shoulder at him and offer him a grateful smile. We’d been speaking quietly, but orc hearing is better than human, of course.
Wren pops out of bed and dresses quickly with my help. We fold up our nightgowns and woolen stockings, and I carry them down to ask the innkeeper whether we can buy them from him. He agrees readily and says his wife might have some more children’s clothing stashed somewhere from when their daughters were little.
We crowd into the small dining parlor, and the maids bring out a simple but hearty breakfast of eggs, sausages, and bacon, apples and pickled beets, and several loaves of crusty country bread still warm from the oven.
“Here.” Ritta quietly pushes a small glass jar toward me.
I take it and turn it in my hands. It’s filled with a loose herbal mixture, and I immediately know what it is.
“How often should I drink it?” I whisper, glancing at the others who seem too busy devouring their breakfast to pay attention to us.
She reaches for the kettle and pours a cup of steaming water for me. “Every day, apart from when you get your courses.”
I shake a tablespoon’s worth of herbs into the cup and dunk it carefully. “Thank you.”
I’m glad I have this option. Vark and I have only just met, and besides, there’s no telling whether he wants children at all. I would love to give Wren a sibling at some point, but I’m more than content to wait.
We demolish the breakfast spread, and the innkeeper’s wife brings us some children’s hose and shifts, as well as a small woolen dress, perfect for winter. It’ll be big on Wren for a while, but it’s better than what she has now for sure.
Vark reaches for his coin purse to pay for the clothing, but I stop him.
“I’ve got this,” I murmur. “Please.”
He sits back, watching me. I follow the mistress of the house to the taproom, and she lets me have the lot, including my nightgown, for a couple of copper coins, so I don’t even have to use the golden mark I’d stolen from Vark.
I still rub my fingers over it, debating with myself as I rejoin our party in the courtyard, where the horses are being harnessed and the wagons prepared for departure. Should I tell Vark that I took his money? I’d palmed it because I’d been fully convinced that Wren and I were going to leave their caravan and never see them again. Instead, we’re going home with them, and stealing from Vark seems completely wrong.
The morning has dawned bright, at complete odds to last night’s deluge. It’s cold, though, so I wrap Wren in an extra blanket and put her hood up. Sitting between Vark and me, she’s happy to observe the village quietly as we drive down the muddy track that will lead us back to the main road.
Vark is in a good mood, sending me heated looks over the top of Wren’s head, but he doesn’t say anything that would let her know that anything has changed between us. He’s giving me a chance to tell her myself, so I do, explaining that Vark and I like each other. I blush as I say this, because I don’t know how else to explain it, and Vark lets out a small laugh, as if my choice of words amuses him.
But Wren, with her serious four-year-old ways, fixes Vark with a stare. “Will you be good to my mama?”
Vark dips his chin in a solemn nod. “Aye. I promise.”
“You won’t hurt her?” she insists. “You mustn’t. Or I will be very angry.”
Vark sends me a sad glance that tells me he’s figured out that my past relationships, if I could call them that, weren’t that good.
“I won’t hurt her,” he vows, meeting Wren’s gaze. “I have never hurt a woman and I don’t intend to start with my mate.”
“Oh!” Wren gasps. “Mama is your mate?”
I raise my eyebrows. “You know about that?”
She turns to me. “Ozork told me a story about how their king, Gorvor, met his Dawn. She is his mate, and he loves her more than anything in the world. Like in a fairy story.” She swivels in her seat again, nearly toppling from it in her haste. “Do you love my mama?”
Vark lets out a low laugh and murmurs, “Aye. But we’re scaring her, little mouse, so let’s keep it between us, shall we?”
I stare at him, shocked. He doesn’t look at me, instead focusing on the muddy road ahead, as if keeping the horses in line is suddenly demanding all of his attention. I know that’s not true—these animals are so well trained, Vark could take a nap right now and wake up an hour later with the wagon still following the one in front of us.
Wren shoots a glance at me, then leans closer to Vark and says in a very loud whisper, “All right, I won’t tell her.”
My eyes sting with tears, and I turn my head away from them so she won’t see me cry. I’m not even sure why I’m such a mess. Maybe it’s the cold, stinging wind that’s at fault.
Deep down, I know it’s not. Vark took me by surprise, and I don’t like surprises. Did he really mean it? I thought that finding your fated mate was more similar to an arranged marriage than anything else, only it’s fate doing the arranging instead of overzealous parents.
Yet here he is, proclaiming his feelings. And to my daughter! I should be angry about this, because shouldn’t I be the first one to find out something that concerns me?
Orcs are different, though. They speak aloud about things that humans keep to themselves, and if bodies and intimate relations are fair play, why should emotions be any different? It’s as natural to him as talking about weather.
I peer over at him, narrowing my eyes. He could have evaded Wren’s question if he didn’t want to lie to her. But he’d gone right out and told her how he felt about me—at a time where there’s nothing much I can do about it. I don’t want to argue with him right now to claim that it’s too soon for him to feel that way about me. The last thing I want is for Wren to think there’s something wrong between Vark and me.
Is that why he told her? So I’d have time to stew and think through what I wanted to say back to him?
If that was the case, this orc is even smarter than I thought.
I cross my arms over my chest and brood, all while trying to answer the myriad questions that Wren has for us today, ranging from the names of the poor, half-frozen songbirds we see by the road to the issue of where stars go during the day.
Vark answers as many questions as me. He’s patient with Wren—he doesn’t baby her or dismiss her as silly. Rather, he thinks through every answer, giving her the same consideration as if he was speaking to an adult.
I watch them together, and hope blooms in my chest, fragile but bright. It’s so foreign to me, I rub my sternum absent-mindedly, trying to chase away the sweet ache.
I find Vark peering at me from the corner of his eye, his lips quirked up in a small smile. I flush and drop my gaze to my lap. That I’m so nervous around him all of a sudden is strange—this male has seen me naked after all. It’s different, though, an odd sort of vulnerability that comes with opening up to someone like this. I haven’t told Vark how I feel yet because I’m unsure of my own state. I don’t want to say those words just because he has—that would be dishonest, and I would never lie to Vark.
I’ll have to figure out what to say to him before we find ourselves alone again.
