Page 23 of Orc's Forbidden Claim

His hand passes down, moving over my pubic hair and pelvis until his fingers are pressing onto the lips of my pussy. He pushes and pierces, penetrating deep and hard. My knees arewater. If not for his other hand hooked under my ass I’d fall to the ground. His finger curls inside and I gasp, breaking our kiss.

He works that finger back and forth. Curling in and up, pressing hard on the inside. A sensation I’ve never felt before is building. It’s more than an orgasm. It feels the same, yet more, and somehow different.

Involuntarily, on instinct, I buck my hips into him. Pushing his curling finger deeper and rubbing my clit onto the palm of his hand. He works that finger inside me furiously. An orgasm is building faster than I ever would have thought possible. And it feels like the biggest thing I’ve ever experienced.

I’m moaning and groaning, and he grunts in time with the motions of his hand and fingers. I feel his erection, swollen and barely contained by his pants, digging into my lower belly. All I want is for him to bury that inside of me. I’m only dimly aware that we’re being watched but I can’t be bothered to care. This feels too good. Let them watch. I need this.

The orgasm breaks free and takes over both my body and my thoughts. I convulse and cry out my pleasure all while he holds me tight, carrying me through it with simple, easy caring. When it passes at last the first hints of embarrassment come but they are outside the afterglow of how good he made me feel.

He slides his hand out of my pants and the musky scent of sex fills the air between us. I hate to admit how it makes my mouth water and makes me want more but now is far from the time or place. We hold onto each other and as the aftershocks of orgasm pass over I suddenly start crying.

I don’t mean to, but this is the first moment I’ve felt relief. I’m rescued. He’s here. He really is. He came for me. I knew hewould, but then I didn’t know if he would find me, or at least find me in time. He holds me, arms locked tight around my waist and keeping me lifted off the floor.

A grunting clearing of the throat from behind brings reality crashing back in. We’re not alone and I just put on one hell of a show for my former captors. A flush burns its way over my chest and onto my cheeks. Khiara growls and then sets me on my feet. He takes a step ahead while holding one arm protectively across me.

Three Urr’ki stand together, watching him. On some unspoken signal, they drop their weapons and raise their hands to show empty palms.

15

KHIARA

“Giving up so easily?” I ask taking a step forward.

I stare at the three Urr’ki. I do not know them personally. The middle one takes a slow step forward, his eyes locked onto mine.

“For the Queen,” he says.

I don’t respond immediately. Studying his face, trying to decide if this is some kind of a trick. The Shaman must know we have the Queen. It would make sense for him to try to get her back. Send loyal Maulavi to retrieve her by infiltrating the Zmaj compound, get close to my brother and me, and then snatch her away. How many tunnels have they dug over and under the Zmaj compound?

“Heh,” I grunt. “The Queen is ill.”

The one who stepped forward blinks slowly before nodding agreement.

“So it is told,” he says, but there is a heavy note of disbelief in the statement.

“What is this?” Sek’su asks, stepping up to stand beside me.

The three Urr’ki look at him and their eyes widen, hands tightening into fists.

“Names?” I growl.

The one who stepped forward looks back to me but it’s a clear effort for him to take his eyes off of the Zmaj. The two behind him shift their feet uncomfortably. I cross my arms over my chest and glare.

“One more thing,” he says, switching back into our language. He looks over his shoulder and the other two shuffle closer, moving tentatively, looking between me and Sek’su with wary eyes. He clears his throat, glances over my shoulder himself then speaks. “This world isn’t done yet.”

I stare at him suspiciously, twisting my mouth into a frown. My thoughts are racing. This could be a trap. There is no way to know if the Shaman and his Maulavi have infiltrated the resistance. If they have, they could know the codes. Do I risk it?

Saylor leans against my side, stroking her fingers up and down my arm. Her scent fills my nostrils, and I can’t keep myself from inhaling deeply. Her touch is calming, not dimming my suspicion, but making it easier to think. I decide it’s worth the risk.

“And what does it take to save it?” I ask, giving the counter challenge.

“Everything,” the three of them say, surprising me by speaking in unison.

More surprising is the fervency in their voices and on their faces as they do. If these are Maulavi plants, then they are very, very good. I nod inagreement.

“Fine,” I say. “They are part of the resistance.”

I say the last to Sek’su in Zmaj so he will understand. He doesn’t speak, only stares for a long time then Wren rises onto her toes and whispers in his ear. His lips twist but when she finishes, he gives a sharp nod and a whatever shrug. He turns and walks back down the tunnel a short way with Wren at his side, leaving me to deal with these three.

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