Finding Her Heart (Orki War Bride #2)

by Isoellen

Squatting next to her while he ate, Doku-ni watched her closely. If her eyes wandered, he made that negative grunting noise. The third time it happened, his hand shot out, clasping her firmly at the throat, giving her a gentle squeeze. A reminder.

  No threat, she knew. He could cut off her breathing or crush her windpipe and break her like a twig. Wanting her to understand, his white eyes pushed his will at her from beneath his mobile, telling brows. The flattened nose and nostrils flared as he huffed a deep breath. He had harsh cheekbones and that wide, tusked, dangerous mouth. Not human. Stunningly different. She loved looking at him. His hand controlled her, a halter like she put on the head of her donkeys, taking charge. This was not a male who would hesitate to direct her where he wanted her to go.

  He could make her do almost anything with his hand on her throat—control her breath, her body—the grip triggered a need to yield to his greater strength and determination. It should terrorize her, but his hand hold was too perfect. Zings of alarmed awareness climbed down her back, buzzing the tips of her fingers, stiffening her nipples, and swelling the hidden, waiting nub of flesh at the apex of her thighs.

  Speaking volumes without saying a single word, he unclasped and drew back with deliberate slowness. Annabell took a deep breath. "Yes, I understand. Don't look anywhere but at you."

  She almost smiled when she said it. What was wrong with her?

  Something was definitely wrong. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and bent her head so that when she opened them, all she would see was the floor. "But it's hard. You don't speak. You don't tell me what you want, what is going to happen next. You don't tell me where we are going, or what life is going to be like, or how I am going to learn the things I need to learn to survive. You don't tell me that everything's going to be okay."

  He tapped the hand holding the food he'd given her. He wanted her to eat. He explained much without words, simple things, but not what she really needed to know. She would have to trust him.

  Tonight’s meal, under the morning sky, was meat from an unknown source. She preferred the cake, bread, or fresh vegetables from the garden. "Do you have vegetables? Do you eat vegetables?" she blurted.

  Head tilting to the side in response, he grunted, the slightest smile on his lips. "My papa told me a hundred stories as a child, but there is a lot I do not know."

  Giving her what sounds he could, he purred for her, the sound immediately easing some of her anxieties, making her not care about her questions. But it also sank into her skin, relaxed her muscles. Reminded her of the last time they had bedded down together. Would there be more of that tonight?

  She felt her face go hot.

  Nudging her hand holding the dried meat, he encouraged her again to eat. She ate, not looking at him.

  "Annabell Roe, you should be embarrassed," Mama's voice said. But it was Benjere, dear Benjere, standing there shaking his finger at her, glaring and judgmental.

  She should be embarrassed or ashamed. But this was her Orki, the male she had fantasized about for years. After her parents' death, as the daughter of a prominent family, taught history and science at her father's knee, she had strike after strike against her, setting her up as different from all the other girls of her community. She'd had no female friends. Instead, surrounded by older brothers, their friends, and their brothers. Their desires embarrassed none of them. Not one.

  Benjere disliked the Orki because he took part in sending an envoy out, rather than waiting for a hunting party's trade visit. His greed had been the death of a man, and it made him bitter.

  The community went without a decent historian or teacher to teach them better, let the differences between the two races grow into fear.

  "Lack of education breeds ignorance, ignorance breeds foolishness," Mama said to her sons when they didn't want to attend classes, and instead begged to be outside, moving, doing, working the farm, building things, making things.

  Annabell loved learning. She'd excelled at school, above the other boys and girls. The schoolteacher complimented her memory. Sent from the steel city of Green, Minister Agate told her she was an intelligent young woman. He encouraged her not to sign the humble life contract. Picking her out in class, he told them all how she had the potential to become more than a farm wife. Life as teacher's favorite did her no good with the rest of her peers. It added to her strangeness. But she hadn't noticed. Hadn't felt it. Or cared. And the day by the river that she met Doku-ni, she had welcomed him, for it was what she had always wanted.

  Until Benjere told her it would ruin the family name, shame them, and hurt them all more than the death of their parents. Until he told her everything was all her fault.

  Observing her carefully, Doku-ni handed her the water pouch. She drank, swallowing down her thoughts. She knew Benjere loved her. But he liked things his way. There was no doubt about that.

  Zerzer returned from wherever she had been smelling of sunshine, and her neck bristles ruffled so that she looked even bigger and very prickly. She shook, the thick, rod-like bristles rolling side to side, shaking them flat again, and scattering water. She circled where they sat, curling around Annabell and blocking her view of everyone else.

  Standing, Doku-ni went to his gear and got the thick pelt that served as Zerzer's saddle blanket. He snatched up the red bladder also, bringing it back with him. Since she was distracted, watching him, Zerzer took the opportunity to be funny. The big beast purposely bumped Annabell in the shoulder, nearly knocking her over. Saying all kinds of words Annabell couldn't begin to decipher, the war beast stuck her big muzzle against Annabell's chest, then lower, sniffing loudly.

  Woofing with a variety of growling sounds, Zerzer looked at Doku-ni, talking to her rider.

  "What are you telling him?"

  Zerzer made a wheezing sound, like a laugh, snuffling Annabell under the chin, lowering her muzzle, inhaling again, and then snorting out a hot, wet breath. Not intimidated at all by the big maw in her waist, Annabell tried to push her away.

  "Quit that."

  Zerzer licked her from chest to face in answer.

  "Ugh!"

  The beast turned away, chuffing and wheezing, laughing all the way, she was sure. Annabell grumbled at Doku-ni, who looked at the animal like a friend, his eyes soft and amused. For the first time, Annabell saw him do something with one hand, moving his fingers rapidly in different shapes. Zerzer answered with a noise, and he responded with hand and finger movements.

  Like a conversation. He was talking to the war beast.

  The two of them were a contrast. His Orki body scarred in slashes on his chest and one arm, that deep scar at his neck, that metal piece, skin as pale as snow, and the war beast, gray and black, with her own white slashed scars at her muzzle and paws. Their sizes and muscle tone and power were an exaggeration to everything she knew, but they complemented each other. Their opposites matched like a set. If Zerzer stood on her hind feet, she'd be the taller of the two, but not by much.

  Zerzer yipped happily at him twice, laying down next to Annabell.

  Feeling left out, Annabell said, "You two were talking, weren't you? Were you talking about me? You were, weren't you? It is rude to talk about a person, but to talk about them when they can't understand you, right in front of you?"

  Doku-ni grunted and Zerzer yipped and laughed.

  Annabell huffed, "I don't see how that's funny."

  Taking her hand, Doku-ni helped Annabell stand and moved her to the side. He spread out the saddle blanket before sitting down, drawing her slowly to him, into his lap as if they were riding the war beast again.

  It was a curious feeling. Not unpleasant, but strange, to be surrounded by him, held by him this way. She took the red bladder when he finally handed it to her, leaning back, her head under his chin. Not unpleasant at all.

  Tipping the red bag, she drank. This time, he didn't stop her until she had managed several gulps. It entered her stomach hard, sour, and lumpy, but his purring turned the mixture to cream. On the third swallow
, her head started to ring and a glowing bonfire had started in her belly. Whatever this was, it was stronger than any of the wines.

  Red was a ceremonial color for the Orki. Her father told her they had sealed the peace deal with red. "What does it mean? I know it is important. Does it mean I am your wife? Will I have to keep drinking it?"

  He didn't answer, instead just grunted at her. His expression looking light, and very pleased. "What are you so happy about?" Annabell asked.

  His arms squeezed, nuzzling her hair, and inhaling deeply as he did so. Setting the bladder to the side, he moved her around to where he wanted her, laying down so that she stretched out on top of him. His body was not a soft mattress, but he was warm, and this position kept her from the rocky hardness of the ground since there were no extra furs for sleeping on. Heaving a huge sigh, she thought that must mean it was time for them to sleep.

  Looking up, Annabell saw the craggy lip of black rock and earth. Ferns grew in a spotted way, and a green plant with small dots that were berries or flowers. It was difficult to tell. If she canted her head to the left, she saw bits of sky. Bright blue sky with whips of clouds. It was a morning sky, wide above the trees, slivers of it revealed between the criss-cross of branches.

  Emanating his warming, comfort noise, her body sank into him, relaxed into the heat of him, but her eyes and her awareness stayed open. The milky sour stuff, some kind of fermented milk, she guessed, left her stomach to spread through her limbs. Earlier she had felt ill, but now she felt good. Very good and safe.

  It was that sense of safety that allowed her to drift.

  Noises woke her. A voice she recognized.

  "Yes, yes, yes," a woman repeated.

  Annabell opened her eyes, tipping her chin, realizing that the couple nearest hers was Lurann and a gray Orki. On her elbows and knees, back bowed, her head and bottom raised high, an Orki leaned over her like a bull in rut, primal, pumping his hips behind her while she cried out encouragement.

  The dark gray male's body flexed and flowed as he moved inside of her. The sight of that male pumping his cock in and out of Lurann in long gliding jabs aroused Annabell with its raw eroticism. The thick piston rod slid back and forth. The stem was as wide as Lurann’s forearm with an angry bulge at the base bumping against Lurann’s pink core, rocking her forward. Submitting to every thrust, Lurann bounced against him, every contact a cry of, “Yes.”

  The Orki were big all over, yet somehow Lurann was accommodating the Orki girth. Though her entrance was stretched tight around the male, she was receiving pleasure from him.

  Annabell wanted that pleasure too.

  Doku-ni grunted, turning her head away from the sight.

  Replaced with lovely, twinging tingles, the aches she had felt earlier were gone and her mouth was full of saliva. The place between her legs ached. It was all much less alarming now, however. Natural. Normal. Right. Worries receded under a tide of deliciously sensitive warmth. The jagged edges of her lost past, the miseries of yesterday, blurred and softened, losing their grip of condemnation.

  Wandering, her hands passed over the planes of muscle of the Orki beneath her, rubbing back and forth. He had a heavy arm around her waist, holding her to him, but it lifted to allow her movement when she shifted herself so she could lay facing him. This contact felt much better than the other. Stretching, Annabell moaned, rubbing her cheek against his abdominals, enjoying him.

  He had taken her; she was his one. That much she understood from Papa's stories, from his proposal so long ago. Benjere had gone on and on about how she would disappear into the Orki lands and never be seen or heard from again. They would not know if she was well or ill. They would know nothing. She would cease to exist in Righteous Way, not be a member of their family.

  How could she want that?

  She had wanted that. She had always wanted this. This male's focus, his touch, his intensity, the feel of his skin, the sounds he made, the care he took of her. The sum of these things after such a short time filled her up with bliss and gave her permission. If she was his one, he was hers, and he welcomed her touch. Her insides were melting, opening, blooming, as her core yearned hungry, and inhibitions faded to nothing. With no fear of him, there was only desire and the burgeoning glow of knowing he welcomed her. There was no obstacle between them, no family, no judgement, no one to accuse, no one to blame; all of that had evaporated.

  She allowed herself the luxury of enjoying the moment and feeling him under her. He had so many delectable textures, shapes, and smells, packaged in his primordial masculine body. There was no way she could tolerate missing the chance to discover all of his uniqueness.

  Beneath her hands his breathing increased and the muscles under his skin trembled. Looking up at him, while he looked down at her, his black tongue touched her bottom lip.

  Suddenly she imagined the most wanton, dirty, impossible things. She crawled up his body, mesmerized by the black of his tongue against that white skin. It turned her insides to mushy softness in a ridiculous way. Fingers brushing over his jaw, Annabell asked, "Can I touch you?"

  In answer, he let go of her and stretched his arms above his head, taking a deep breath, becoming hard and resolute all over.

  Did he just say yes? Did this giant, powerful beast of a male, this killer of raiders, surrender to what she wanted?

  He waited, silent. Not once taking his eyes of her, waiting to see what she would do. His eyes and face revealed the vulnerability of his need, sending a signal that crawled under her skin to her heart and wrapped fingers around it.

  The way he opened himself up to her owned her. It made her feel small and strong at the same time, taking her will power and giving it back. He owned her.

  The past dripped into her eyes with the sharpness of onions, bringing unexpected tears. He opened his barriers with shameless ease. Offering his honest self, from the pulsing throb of adoration in his heart to the stiff cock, straining for her between his legs, he laid himself like a feast out for her to devour. Such a gift. The depth and value of it caused the tears to fall.

  Brows lowered in concern, his purr grew loud to soothe her.

  She smiled. "It's okay. It is. I'm a bit overwhelmed by this. By you."

  A long, sinewed and veined arm lifted, and he cupped her head in his hand. With his touch he encompassed her entire being. Quiet certainty in his eyes spoke to her emotions. This Orki would not change his mind, push her away, reject her. It wasn't in him to do such a thing. She felt it in her skin. Hand shaking, Annabell turned her head and kissed his palm.

  And then she explored. With his white skin he should feel cold, as if lack of color meant lack of life. But he expelled heat, body temperature higher than her own. And she loved the magnificent feel of it against her skin. Scooting up his body, she explored his face with her fingers, brow, the points of his ears that twitched with her touch, the shape of his nose. But what she wanted, danced around, was his mouth.

  His tusks looked brutally dangerous. A softer white than his skin, bone-colored, they were clean and polished-looking, two extra-long teeth rising from his bottom lip to cover his top. Did he use them in battle? Hidden behind a thin upper lip and a full bottom lip, his mouth was full of sharp beastly teeth. And that wicked black tongue. Lightly tracing each tusk, she asked, "Can you feel that?"

  Two of his eyelids blinked, but his eyes held steady. "And this?"

  Her finger moved to his bottom lip as she remembered what he had done to her, with her. She stroked the soft cream of his flesh. Basking in his watchful eyes made her feel feminine and beautiful. And he had never said a thing to her. No false flattery. No superfluous promises. He had no words-was only purpose and action.

  She leaned down, pressed her lips to his without thinking or asking, needing to do it. She had to feel and taste him with her mouth. He made a sound that started low and rose to the roar of a rushing waterfall. Sitting on his chest, vibration went directly to every erogenous zone she had.

  A noise of surp
rise escaped, then a moan, as pleasure and want drenched her. Her hips moved-she couldn't help it-and she wobbled from her perch.

  Deft hands stopped the progress of her losing her place, but the blanket and hide fell away. His broad palms landed on her skin, just below the swelling sides of her breasts. A tease. Annabell wanted. A creature released from a cage, desire ruling her, she wanted his touch pressing in, touching, taking.

  "You feel so good. Everything you do feels wonderful. How can it be this way? I thought I'd lost my chance at this." Not knowing how to kiss him properly—her lack of experience was embarrassing, and he had those tusks—she pressed her mouth against his in a clumsy effort, over and over. His bottom lip swelled against hers. Her tongue came out to touch and capture the shape in memory. Parting his lips, his own tongue emerged, the taste of him spicy, wild, and hers.

  This was new, the Orki making her feel delicate and beautiful, building the desire between them with the exchanges of touch and pleasure. All of it was new, but yet not. This was the craving she had bubbled with for years, the unsatisfied want that had built and built up inside with no expectation of fulfillment. Time gave her imagination freedoms, confidence, creativity, robbing her of self-restraint and fears. She had never feared the Orki.