Page 18 of Orc's Pretend Mate

“Phoebe,” Vapas speaks directly into my ear. “Must move. Now.”

He pulls me along and I follow, numb. I don’t really see the world outside my head. My thoughts are spinning as I struggle with fear. I trip, stumbling forward, and that jerks me out of my head. Vapas keeps me up though.

I give him a smile, sheepish, but needing to give him some kind of thank you. The lingering sulfur odor on the air burns my nostrils and makes my throat dry, but he deserves something for his constant kindness.

Focus.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

His constantly swinging gaze drops to me for a moment before resuming his watchfulness.

“We need more supplies,” he says as we turn another corner. “Meat would be good.”

I can’t disagree. The meat at the house is almost gone. I hadn’t thought about it much. There was a period of time when we were all starving, shortly after the crash. When the salvaged food and ration packs from the ship were running low and there were only two or three of the Zmaj to hunt. That was long ago enough now that the desperation has faded but not the memory.

This street is lined with more of the temporary looking stalls. There is the heavy earthy smell of manure competing with the smoke and sulfur. I wrinkle my nose and cup my hand over nose and mouth. The smell burns so much it’s making my eyes water.

“Ugh, this is awful,” I mutter.

“Not long,” Vapas says, then he stops so suddenly that I bump against him.

“What is it?” I ask, wiping tears from my burning eyes.

Then I see it, and if I thought I had cold chills before they were nothing compared to this. Two Maulavi lean against a stall and they’re both staring right at me. Not him, not us, me. Their cold, dark eyes bore into me with suspicion and something worse.

Involuntarily, I take a step back as one of them pushes off the wall, taking a step towards us. I blink as my mouth trembles. Panic ensues but there’s nowhere to go. No escape.

Vapas grabs me by my waist and spins me towards him. His face is right in mine, not an inch away when, out of nowhere, his lips are on mine.

10

VAPAS

She stiffens, her body going rigid. Her lips are as cold and hard as tempered iron. She is not playing along. I have to make a show of this in order to keep the Maulavi at bay.

I cup her ass in both hands. Unexpectedly, I’m hard. The feel of her plump, full ass, her tits pressing against me, her lips, cold or not, on mine… the reaction is natural, but still it is colored with regret.

One eye on the Maulavi I continue the ruse but she tries to push me away. Damn it woman, play along. Seeing no option I lift her into my arms and turn away from the Maulavi.

The back of my neck itches and burns. Never turn your eyes from an enemy. My sword master’s words echo in my head. Stupid. Dangerous. I feel them approaching. Any moment they will grab me. Or shove a knife into my back.

But her body is warming. Her lips soften, then they are moving against mine. My cock throbs, aching with need and desires that have lain dormant since I lost my wife.

Her hands run through my hair and then she grinds her hips. Pressing hard against my throbbing member. The Maulavi are forgotten as desire and need washes such trivial concerns away.

She moves and grinds. I squeeze and tease her ass. I grunt, struggling with desire, then she moans into my mouth. It is more than I can hold against. My cock explodes, filling my pants with pent up seed.

Stickiness coats my pants. She pulls away from my lips, her forehead resting against mine, eyes closed and panting heavily. I’m panting too, but in that moment of clarity that comes in the wake of sexual relief, the danger around us also crashes in.

I start to look for the Maulavi, but right before I move my head, I realize doing that would reveal the lie of what I am pretending. That she is my dragoste. If she is, my attention would be on her, not them. Shifting to them now would only garner more suspicion.

So I hold off doing so and give myself to the moment. My pounding heart. My softening, oversensitive cock causing tremors as the sticky, rough cloth of my pants scrape against it. Her heart, thundering against my chest. The plump softness of her ass in my hands. Her legs wrapped around my waist.

The smell of her, sweet, but not too much so. She reminds me of a delicate fruit, light and teasing, the scent dancing around the stronger odors that dominate the air.

As my heart and breathing slow to normal hers does too. She loosens the grip of her legs on my waist and lowers herself to the ground. We hold each other a moment longer but now cold reason rules. Without moving my head from hers I dart glances around but do not see any sign of the Maulavi.

I raise my head at last and they are gone. Relief comes quick. I turn back to Phoebe. Her skin is suffused with a gentle glow, but then her eyes widen and she takes a step back, deeply frowning.

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