Page 36 of Her Orc Blacksmiths

“What do you want to do, Jasmine?” Torren asks.

We both turn to glance at him. He’s staring at me, his dark gaze burning, and I know that I have to go for the truth. The whole truth, not some prim version I’ve spouted ever since they both claimed I was their fated mate.

“I want you,” I breathe. “Both of you. I never expected this to happen, and I’m sorry if I caused you pain with my indecision. But the more I learn about you, the more I find it difficult to choose. I think doing so would hurt all of us very badly. And I’d like to see if we can make it work, together.”

The words are wrenched from me, painful and sincere. I haven’t even allowed myself to think them this clearly, and yet I find they ring with truth when I say them out loud.

Torren’s gaze warms as he nods at me, and I sense how proud he is of me for daring to be bold.

Then he looks at Morg. “And you? What do you want?”

Morg opens his mouth, and I half expect him to say something flippant just to annoy Torren some more. But he sits up with a sigh and blows out a long breath. “Gods, I don’t know. I always thought finding my mate would be easy. I don’t do well with complications or finnicky things. You know that.” He jerks his chin at Torren, who lets out a good-natured snort.

My heart shrivels a little at Morg’s words. I sensed that about him. He’s very straightforward and direct, and this must be agony for him, having to juggle not one but two relationships, talking about his feelings.

Then he takes my hand and squeezes it, hard. His fingers tremble slightly, and he stares at his knees when he adds, “But if this is what you want, I will try.”

I frown at him. “No, that’s not?—”

“Morg,” Torren interrupts. “The truth.”

Morg’s head snaps up, his eyes blazing. I wrench my gaze from one to the other, aware of the changed mood between them. I’m not sure what Torren is implying, but the last thing I want is for Morg to feel compelled into a three-way relationship as some sort of favor to me. The thought alone has me feeling sick and more than a little confused.

“What of your truth, Torren?” Morg demands. “What do you want?”

The older orc stalks closer until he’s looming over us both. Morg is tall and muscular, his shoulders broad from his work, but Torren is built like a warrior of old, a massive, hulking male. He’s often quiet, he doesn’t seem so large, but right now, he pulls himself to his full height.

“I want you to kiss Jasmine,” he growls.

Morg’s eyes widen, and his throat bobs as he swallows. “What?”

“You said you came here to fuck,” Torren snaps. “So show me.”

Chapter

Thirteen

My breath shudders out of me. Anticipation and need have blood pounding in my ears, and I know they’ll both soon scent it on me. My insides feel hot and liquidy, my skin stretched too thin.

Torren turns his attention on me. “If you wish to stop, you only need to say it.” He whips his gaze from me to Morg. “Either one of you. Is that understood?”

“Aye,” Morg rasps at the same time as I squeak, “Yes!”

“Good,” Torren purrs. “Now, kiss her.”

Morg’s wide-eyed gaze finds me, and he pauses as if asking permission, but I’m already leaning in. He cups my face just like Torren did earlier, then brings his mouth to mine. The first brush of our lips is tentative, but we’ve been here before, and I’m familiar with his taste. I want it again—I’m craving it so badly, I cannot stop myself from sweeping my tongue over Morg’s lower lip. He groans, and that soft sound seems to break his barriers. He surges in, parting my lips with his tongue, and kisses me passionately. Guiding my face to the side, he deepens the connection, then breaks away, breathing hard.

“Good.” Torren twists away from us, lifts the chair from the other side of the room, and brings it closer to his bed. He’s close enough to see everything but not enough to touch.

“Take her into your lap,” he instructs. “Aye, just like that.”

Morg grabs me by the waist and brings me to sit across his knees. His arm goes around my waist, and I lean into his warmth, my hands clenching in his tunic.

“Now lift your skirts, Jasmine,” Torren says. “And spread your legs for me.”

Morg helps me shuffle around, then grins wickedly down at me and swings me around so my back is to his chest and my legs are on either side of his thighs. Then he spreads his knees farther apart, opening me toward Torren.

“All right?” he whispers in my ear.

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