Page 39 of Guarded By the Orc

“No,” she murmured in a sweet voice that was filled with an emotion that I’d only ever dreamed of. “Thankyou.”

Dinner had become a bit of a fiasco now that our clan had grown by leaps and bounds. Feeding six adult orc males was no easy feat. And with our pregnant chieftess, while she was cranky from hormones and making room inside of her for a half-orc youngling, there was bound to be bloodshed.

Still, I was awed to see that my usually grumpy brother was in the best mood of his life, his warm palm plastered to his mate’s lower back—no doubt soothing her aches with his heat. I glanced over at my own mate, wondering when we’d be able to start a family.

While I wanted a youngling—in fact, I could feel the longing for one growing inside me the longer I was in my mate’s presence—I knew that I wanted some time for ourselves. I figured that time as a couple would be well spent.

I wouldn’t be takingtoomuch time, because I didn’t want much of an age difference between my youngling and Dristan’s, but still, a year or two of time where Zara and I only had to worry about each other and fulfilling our need to fuck each other unconscious every day and night didn’t seem like too much to ask for.

I turned a lascivious grin in Zara’s direction and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Whatever you’re thinking, I’m vetoing it,” she told me while rolling her eyes.

A pout found its way onto my lips. “You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re thinking of sex,” she said with a shrug. “And I need to finish reading the spellbook before I can let you distract me with that dizzying dick.”

Everyone at the table stopped talking, grinning over at us like the perverts they were.

“Dizzying dick, huh?” Enka asked as he took a bite of the potatoes that Becca had made.

“Dizzying,” Zara responded with a firm nod. “He can knock you out with just one orgasm,” she sighed, shaking her head. “And I can’t afford the distraction.”

With a round of cackling laughter and wolf-whistles from Pen and Becca, Zara shrugged as she tucked into the crusty bread that she’d slathered with butter. She looked over at Savla, her expression contemplative.

“Can I get your help with something?” she asked and Savla gave a nod, lowering the fork of potatoes he’d been about to bite into before facing my mate.

I was a bit mollified by the fact that my mate was scented by my cum—and I’d be keeping her marked like that every day until I was able to fuck her the right way—but having her near these unmated males while I wasn’t able to claim her properly was setting my aggression off the charts.

Her fingers found mine, tightening them without even looking at me while she looked at Savla. That alone was enough to calm me down. She already knew me so well. Nuzzling against her hair, I listened as she said,

“I read this section on channeling magick and I think I know what I need, but I’ll need your artistic skills to craft it.”

His nod was immediate. “Of course. Just tell me what you need and I’ll get it ready for you,” he said in his deep, solemn voice.

I was going to have to come to terms with my mate being bestfriends with this male. Because as much as I hated it, it was true. She loved all three of the males who had saved her life, but this Savla in particular had a special bond with her. It helped that he was quiet and listened while my mate lost herself in her words and stories.

“I’ll show you the illustration after dinner,” she told him with a grateful smile. “And I’m sure I can get the wood that you’ll need from nearby.”

“You’re a craftsman?” I asked with interest, tilting my head at Savla. My father had spoken about the craftsmen of the old clans. How they’d made everything that the clan could need until modernity and manufacturing had replaced them.

He knew of very few craftsmen left on their plane, but their work was treasured and passed down from son to son. Savla nodded, his brow furrowed with discomfort at being the center of attention.

“Yes,” was his succinct reply before he went back to eating.

“He’s being modest,” Krusk said, reaching over to slap a proud palm to his brother’s shoulder. “He’s an artist. His work is without equal.”

Savla ducked his head while Enka nodded his agreement. “He made every piece of furniture in our home. Our father was a master craftsman as well.” He puffed his chest with pride. “And he’s going to teach me how.”

Krusk snorted a laugh, taking a bite of his roast. “He’s been trying to teach you for years. You don’t have the disposition.”

“I do,” Enka growled, turning a scowl in his eldest brother’s direction. “I just haven’t had time until now.”

“Tell that to the log that you tossed into the fire because you couldn’t get it tobend to your will,” Krusk laughed and even Savla’s lips quirked into a smile.

Enka’s expression darkened with embarrassment and annoyance. “Well itcould haveif it wanted to,” he argued, takinga bite of chicken and chewing with fury.

“Would you mind if I watched your process?” Becca asked Savla with eagerness, leaning forward while Rok had his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. “I’ve read so many books on orc artisans, but I never thought I’d be able to meet one.”

Savla swallowed, eyeing Rok for a long minute before nodding. “If your mate doesn’t mind.”

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