Page 8 of Running from the Orc
A part of me whispered:You allowed him to caress you because you liked it.
And mayhap, yes. Mayhap Iwascurious. Curious because in all my experiences with men—albeit based on youthful curiosity—none had made me shiver like that. None had teased me, taken mealmost to the edge, made me squirm in desperation against his hard thighs because I wanted himcloser closer closer.
I think I would have allowed it.
If Varkaan had told me I was to be his and had tossed me from that horse and taken me there on the soft grass…I would have gone willingly, just to know how my body would respond.
My sister Sorcha’s prized possession was the scroll containing her copy ofA Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts. We were just two sisters among many, and thus she had no idea how often I had snuck into her room to study that scroll.
‘Twas the legacy of some long-forgotten lady who recorded her favorite sexual positions, with descriptions and illustrations provided. Many times I had read them until I was breathless, then snuck away to the stables to touch myself…or practice with an over-eager partner.
When Sorcha had shown the scroll to Effie in the hours before our abduction, I pretended interest. But in reality, I likely had the lists of sexual positions memorized. I had tried a few, but found the act itself to be brutal and short, over far too quickly, with none of the pleasure I received from my own fingers.
So aye, I was no stranger to desire. But I had never known a male with the patience to tease me likeVarkaan had. Was he even aware what he was doing with those gentle touches, or the way his fingers came closer and closer to my core without actually touching me?
God Almighty, even now, lying in the darkness across the dying fire from his gently snoring mass, I was aroused.
I wanted to ruck up my skirts and reach beneath them to touch myself. I wanted to glide my fingers through my wetness and imagineThe Soldier and the Cruicible, the position which had always intrigued me. Varkaan would be strong enough to hold me against the wall like the male in the illustration.
But instead, I curled my hands into fists and pressed them against the ground, reminding myself I didnotwant the beast to touch me. I wanted to get home.
Did I not?
Aye.
There was only one life I had known, and I wanted to return to that. Which is why I had been so patient for the last few hours as Varkaan made camp and fed me again…why I had pretended meekness as he made a bed with an extra plaid for me, before curling up on the other side of the fire.
The poor male had been awake for two days straight—no wonder he had fallen right off to sleep.
But now…
I was prepared. My stomach was full, I was rested from my hours asleep, and I was prepared to run.
Cautiously, I rolled to my hands and knees, pressing my fingers into the dirt, ready to throw myself down again if he gave any indication he had heard me.
But there was naught. I held my weight lightly as I rose to my feet, watching his sleeping form. I slipped backward toward the shadows, willing my slippers to make no noise on the soft pine needles.
Then I was among the trees.
I wasfree.
Breathing a little prayer, I turned and ran.
Varkaan
I came awake suddenly and lay still, allowing my hunter’s senses to spread out from where I lay curled in my plaid.
What had woken me? Asound? A scent?
Or a lack?
Aye, that was it.
The sound of Roxanna’s breathing—a sound which had becomepartof me in the last day—was missing, as was her distinctive scent. I rolled and was unsurprised to see her plaid empty on the other side of the now-dead fire.
I should’ve been angry.
She lured me into trust, into thinking she’d given up thoughts of escape. But my wee firebrand was anything but meek, was she not?
