Page 18 of Daghel

“I… fear that if I cannot hide some parts of myself, that no one could want me,” I admit as my mind goes back to my hastyefforts to acquire my match with David Mallory. “I have always given men everything they wanted because it was always just my body… always just… flesh. My thoughts and feelings were always my own. But this… If you two can smell what I’m feeling or somehow gain insight into my thoughts that way…”

“You feel that it invades your privacy,” Daghel finishes, his head inclining thoughtfully. “It makes you feel vulnerable.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “And more than that… I’m far from innocent. More so than most women who have joined your clan.”

I jump at the sound of Drisk’s clicking laughter as the wyvern ignores the sharp look Daghel casts his way. I shrink slightly at the sound, but then gasp in surprise when his neck snakes toward me and his muzzle practically knocks me off my feet as he gently headbutts me.

“Absurd human morality,”he chastises.“Orcs do not care about such things, and wyvern care even less. A cunt is a free cunt at a female’s discretion to use, just as males enjoy their pricks. We are only territorial upon finding our mates.”

That is a remarkably revolutionary sentiment. And… I believe him. Despite his strange, inhuman coldness, there is a raw honesty there that makes me want to weep with gratitude. No condemnation. He couldn’t care less and was making that abundantly clear. A tear leaks from my eye to run down my cheek and is immediately followed by another.

“Are you so burdened with shame?”

I shake my head. Of course not. I have always been the mistress of my destiny and have never felt shame for even a moment for what I’ve had to do to guarantee that my needs are seen to.

“Then what?” Daghel prods.

And here we come to the crux of the issue that I loathe to admit.

“I do not wish for you to regret taking me. I wanted to keep control of the situation and feel secure in demanding that you keep me because I thought you would and could never know me any more than I wished you to.”

“That will never happen,” he growls, and he strides across the floor to me to cup my cheek with his dangerously clawed hand. “You are ours, Anya, and that is all that will ever matter. From here we carve our future together.”

Drisk hums his agreement, and something gradually loosens within my chest, a tension I carried for ages without even realizing it. I’m still uncertain what the future holds, but I sense a burden of release that leaves me feeling more like myself than I have in ages as the guise I carefully cultivated for so long slowly unravels. A spark of excitement comes to life inside of me as I savor the feeling of Daghel’s palm on my cheek. Only then do I notice the warm curl of Drisk’s tail around my leg as each male comforts me in his own way.

The corner of Daghel’s mouth suddenly tips, pulling his lips tight around his tusk as I get a glimpse of his sharp fangs. “Welcome, Anya.”

Chapter

Twelve

DAGHEL

It takes all my strength of will to remain still behind the throne as Vorn holds court. While the prince permitted me two days to get my mate settled, it was hardly enough time. She is slowly unwinding, especially after the first night spent sleeping comfortably between us. Trust will be hard won, as I am certain that she bears many scars that she does not speak of, but her laughter is coming a little more easily and she is starting to open up more, though she has not ventured out of the palace yet. Nevertheless, when Gwen brought the dark blue gown made by one of the village seamstresses, Anya did not hesitate to dress herself to accompany me to the throne room despite Drisk’s grumbled protests.

I glance at her, a warmth filling my chest, chasing away the ice that has accumulated over a lifetime. Anya is a true picture of beauty as she stands proudly, her face impressively impassive as her gaze moves along the gathered males and their mates. She reveals nothing of her inner thoughts, and even her scent has a mellow warmth to it, betraying nothing as well. Her gaze shifts and slides to meet mine, and I can see the faint downward pull ofher mouth in silent commentary of the meeting. I grunt quietly in agreement, keeping the volume low and just for her ears.

Vorn is in fine form making a complete ass of himself as the males flaunt their mates and brag of their exploits without the slightest regard for the flinches of discomfort or anger on their faces. And this is the state that the Cold Fang Clan has come to—a disgrace.

“Perhaps you can enlighten us, Daghel,” Vorn booms, drawing my cool regard directly to him. As I have not been paying any attention to their ridiculous conversation, I merely arch an eyebrow in silent inquiry, drawing a chuckle from the male and all others gathered within the room. “Since you and Drisk have had your female skewered upon your pricks these last couple of days, perhaps you can enlighten us as to when you think you might expect a pup from her?” Vorn leers at Anya as he turns in his throne, his weight leaning against its arm. “Or whether we might expect the pup to be an orc or wyvern. They say that the odds favor whoever breeds her more soundly and repeatedly.”

“I certainly didn’t think we would be spared from hearing her screams while you and that foul-tempered creature mounted her,” Ajek remarks with a smirk before draining the contents of his cup, rousing the laughter of the surrounding males.

Kael snickers into his cup and directs a particularly nasty smile toward my female, making my fists clench. “Daghel probably gagged her with his prick down her throat to keep the bitch silent.”

“I, for one, would enjoy listening to her squeal while pierced on their cocks.” Mattik, a heavily tattooed male who just recently returned from scouting, comments and squeezes meaningfully between his legs.

I contemplate the best way to remove the member when another round of laughter fills the room, and my mouth setsinto a frown. Mattik. A shame that something larger failed to eat him while he was scouting. Perhaps I should let Drisk satisfy his appetite… just once. I am seriously entertaining the idea when my mate’s cool voice cuts through my gathering anger, dampening it as she replies to their collective impertinence.

“The joke is on you then,” she replies. “As it happens, I find pain to be the most profound aphrodisiac, so you would have had to listen closely to hear the moans. And seeing how you clearly can’t even pay enough attention to your own mates’ pleasure, I’m not the least bit shocked that you missed it.”

The laughter falls silent as the males turn reproachful looks at my mate before turning suspicious glowers toward the females kneeling at their feet with their heads bowed. Anya is not the least bit bothered by their overt hostility but smirks at them as her arms cross in front of her chest, the blue fabric of her gown flattering every delicate curve of her body. The sight of her makes my mouth water despite the fact that she’s wearing more now than she has over the last few days. Given the state of her bloodied and torn dress, Anya has been wearing little more than a long woolen chemise within our rookery. And yet this female is pure temptation, no matter how she is attired.

Vorn’s laughter breaks the strained silence, and he slaps the throne’s arm a little too jovially and with a little too much force so that the rings on his hand strike the stone clamorously, echoing through the chamber. I glance suspiciously at him from the corner of my eye but quickly look away before anyone notices. I know that he will find a way to make me compensate him for this embarrassment. My lips twitch faintly. Let him try.

“Daghel’s mate is clearly something very special,” he chuckles, and his eyes rove over my mate, his long tongue sliding over his tusks. “It is funny that I do not scent you or your wyvern on her, but some humans take a bit more time to mark. And the healer does report that she asks for bathing water to be meltedfrom the snow every day. I would discourage it if I were you if you do not want another male attempting to mount her.”

“I imagine that another male would prefer to keep his prick attached to his body,” I reply coldly, and this time, the prince’s smile definitely slips as his eyes glitter angrily at me.

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