Page 65 of His Orc Lady

I stare at his chest, at the small triangle of pale skin visible above the collar of his shirt, and grumble, “I’m tired.”

“Really?” He grins down at me. “After the day we’ve had? How surprising.”

I pinch him lightly. “Joke all you want, but I think I’ll fall asleep the moment my body comes in contact with my bed. So we might not get?—”

“To fuck again?” He tips my chin up and kisses me softly. “I don’t care about that, sweetheart. We have all our lives to catch up on it. What I want to do is take care of you, and if that means simply sleeping beside you tonight, so be it.”

My eyes well with tears, but I blink them away before they fall. “All right. Come on, then. I swear I know the way back to my room.”

By the time my door appears in front of us, I’m not the only one flagging. Owens stifles a yawn, then grins at me ruefully, but he still helps me undress and kisses me soundly before he rolls onto the far side of the bed and draws down the covers.

I blow out the lantern, check that the door is locked, and make my way toward him.

“I can’t see you,” he complains. “Where are you?”

I crawl onto the bed and wiggle toward him until my back is flush with his chest. “Right here.”

“Oh.” He puts an arm around my waist and takes a deep inhale of my scent. “Gods, this feels good.”

“Aye.” I chew on my lip, then blurt, “Do you think you might want to spend all your nights here? We’ll have to tell Willow and the others, though, or it will look very suspicious if you’ll offer to walk me to my room every evening.”

Owen’s soft laugh ruffles the hairs on my neck. “If you want me here, I will move in tomorrow. I don’t want to spend another moment away from you.”

A glow of happiness spreads through me, lulling me deeper toward slumber. “You’ll have to travel to Ultrup in the spring, though.”

My mate yawns again, clearly unconcerned. “But I will return as soon as I can.”

“I know.” I take his hand from where it’s resting just under my breasts, bring it to my lips, and press a kiss to the warm inside of his palm. “I know you will.”

Chapter

Seventeen

OWEN

I wake up in the dark. My first thought is that it must be the middle of the night, but then I remember I’m only underground, and that it’s probably quite late, given the time Mara and I went to bed.

We woke once in the early hours of the morning, and when Mara arched her ass against me, I filled her dripping pussy with my cock while we were both still half asleep. We rocked together, our senses somehow heightened from having slept together, and she came first, squeezing my shaft so perfectly, I followed her over the edge within seconds.

I will never get enough of her sweet scent or the incredible feel of sinking deep inside her and hearing her mewling, shuddering breaths as she chases her pleasure.

Grinning, I flip over in bed. If she’s awake we could try that idea I had last night, when she sat on top of me and I asked her to ride me?—

But Mara isn’t there. Her side of the bed is empty, and I can’t believe I didn’t notice immediately. I should have had her warmbody wrapped in my arms, and instead, the sheets are cold, as if it’s been a while since she left me here.

Cursing under my breath, I roll out of bed, but it’s pitch-dark, and I don’t remember where she left the lantern last night. I feel my way along the wall to the door and crack it open an inch to let in the glow of the lanterns from the corridor.

The sliver of light that pours into the room reveals the truth of my assumption—Mara isn’t there, not in the main room and not in the privy niche, hidden behind a tapestry. But when I glance back at the bed, frowning and trying to decide what to do, my gaze falls on a piece of paper on her pillow.

I move faster than I ever have and snatch up the note, then carry it over to the door to read Mara’s writing.

Owen, meet me in the entrance hall when you wake up. With love, Mara.

I stare down at the message, blinking. If I didn’t recognize her neat, elegant handwriting, I’d think the note was forged—for what would she want with the entrance hall? It leads outside, nowhere else, and?—

It hits me then that she might be trying to leave the Hill. The thought fills me with equal parts of terror and guilt, because I’m suddenly certain she’s doing it for me.

I drag on my pants, shove my feet into my boots, and grab my shirt before running out the door. I barely stop for long enough to push my arms into the sleeves of the shirt and tug it over my head, and then I’m off again, following the wooden signposts some kind soul had put up at the major crossroads in the Hill.

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