Page 31 of The Orc Outcast's Conquest

No. She was still asleep, and he sagged with relief.

Her admission about his growls feeling “tingly” broke into his thoughts. Never had any being described his threatening sounds as such. She’d rubbed her hand along her chest, right between the lush globes of her breasts.

And now she wasn’t even wearing a fucking shirt.

He ground his teeth and stared into the fire until his eyes burned from the smoke.

Miranda’s whimpering broke through his determination to ignore her.

She seemed to be having another nightmare.

Blast this imprint and its ruthless demands. He fixed his eyes on the woman.

His woman.

A shiver of pleasure crept up his spine as he clenched his fingers in his hair. His control was slipping. Another particularly pitiful cry forced him to his knees and brought him forward to her side.

“Hush,” he murmured. But she didn’t obey him. He hadn’t expected her to. His voice wasn’t created to bring comfort.

It was meant to terrify.

Tears gathered around her long, dark lashes and her pink lips trembled.

“Shh,” he managed to make the sound soft and quiet.

The tear broke free and slid down her cheek. She let out a whimper that bellowed through his frame and the imprint roared with blazing agony. He could not withhold a growl of frustration.

And in response, her body relaxed. Her expression smoothed, her tears stopped, and her limbs went limp.

Because he had growled?

What he would give to read her mind now. To get inside her head. The imprint in his chest thrummed its fire, but could not reveal what his woman was thinking. It only made his blood blister with the longing to do so.

If she liked his growling, should he do it more?

No. No! It was illogical. Went against the nature of all living things. He should haunt her nightmares.

It must be a coincidence. Well placed timing.

He raked a hand through his hair and watched her intently.

She buried her nose in his cloak, tucking her full lips against it, and sucked a deep breath into her lungs. “Smells good,” she mumbled, all sleep-drunk perfection. “Govek...”

Oh fuck.

He trembled, pleasure shuddering down his spine and spiking heat through him as goosebumps broke out over his arms. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needed to get out of here. Go back to the spring. Douse the fire in his blood.

Her hand reached out and took his, and his heart skittered up into his throat. He fixed his eyes on her face, waiting for her own eyes to open. Waiting for her to admit that she’d been awake this whole time. That she’d been pulling some sort of cruel farce because, of course, she wouldn’t be attracted to him. Of course, she wouldn’t find him appealing or comforting. He was loathsome, vile, unable to control?—

Her body went completely boneless, and her face sagged into a deep sleep.

While holding his fucking hand. With his claws right there.

Govek tried to pull away, but her brow furrowed slightly when he did and he knew the instant he ripped free of her she would wake. She would wake and he would be faced with her barely covered body, her sweet voice, and her incredible scent, and those lovely brown eyes—all bright and perfect.

He was an imbecile. He had to let her go. He was going to war.

But for tonight... for now, he could enjoy this.

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