Afterward, we spend a considerable amount of time listening to orc storytellers as they perform to the accompaniment of drummers, recounting tales of those who had journeyed beyond the veil of the living. All the while as we walk around the carnival, Garval takes every opportunity to touch me… and feed me. He seems obsessed with feeding me from his hand, and I eat up the attention.
On and on it goes. Jugglers, living statue street performers, and at the end we join the visitors crowding around the stage beside the bonfire as orc warriors painted in a fearsome manner, many of them wearing necklaces of bones, that I suspect is intentional to scare their enemies as they dance a drawn-out stomping dance, their weapons moving with seamless coordination in the air. I feel Garval’s body press against mine as he leans down and whispers.
“This dance here, they’ve been performing it every night. Traditionally, it is only performed during the holy festival. It is the warriors’ dance to welcome and honor the spirits of the clan who have gone before, to show that we remember them and invite them. Since we’ve extended our celebration to include this carnival, they are ending every night in this fashion as we feel it is proper to do so.”
I watch in awe, digesting this information as they move, their voices calling out in deep, vibrating tones, singing to their ancestors. My eyes tear up a little, caught up in the power of the moment and the sense of interconnectedness. It feels special, like I’m actually a part of it. I don’t want the moment to end, but like all things eventually must, it does, and the moment is bittersweet to me.
By the time we leave, I’m carrying Matty while Garval carries Nora’s limp body draped against his chest, her cheek pillowed on his broad shoulder. He has such a content look on his face that I take a mental photo of the moment to keep the image forever close to my heart. She doesn’t move, not even the slightest twitch, even when we get home and carry her up to the loft. I don’t bother undressing her when Garval lays her on the bed. He reaches for Matty, taking the dead weight of my sleeping son who—like all of my children—has the tendency to sleep like a rock, to free up my hands. I slip off her coat and shoes and tuck her blankets warmly around her.
I do check on Chris before we leave the loft. He beat us home, and I’m amused to see him sprawled out sleeping on his bed, a silly little smile curving his lips from whatever dreams are entertaining him. Although I can’t reasonably budge to cover him adequately, I grab a spare fleece blanket from his wardrobe and throw it over him so that he doesn’t wake up cold before following my orc down the stairs.
Garval sets Matty in his crib in my room before joining me in the main room. I’ve already set to work making cocoa in the cooking area, leaving him the job of getting a small fire in the hearth going to cut some of the chill in the cottage. Once it warms up a bit, we’ll be able to bank the coals and remain reasonably warm until morning. The smile he gives me is warm as he passes by to walk over to the hearth, his large palm caressing my bottom in passing.
Within minutes, I join him in the main room, handing one of the steaming cups to him where he sits in one of the large chairs facing the now toasty fire. I sit in the other, disliking the distance between us as I make a mental note to make an order for a couch from a local crafter. The chairs are extremely comfortable, so I’m hoping there’s someone who can make just as fine a couch. Still, the comfortable companionship between us is nice as we drink our cocoa and talk about the carnival as the hour grows later.
When it’s time, he banks the coals as I wash our mugs. I don’t even need to issue an invitation to get him to stay. Garval immediately follows me back into my room and lovingly strips me as if I’m the most cherished thing he’s ever touched before lifting me up into his arms and setting me on the bed. I stretch out, my arms opening for him when his naked body crawls over me.
His large hands part my legs, pulling my knees to either side of his hips. He releases one only long enough to position the head of his cock at my entrance. His grip is almost brutal as he thrusts home, my hips coming up to meet him with a gasp of overwhelming pleasure. It eases only slightly on the next thrust, but I don’t need or want it to. His growls and grunts of pleasure are very much as sweet as any lover’s sigh, reaching a harmonic counterpart to my gasps and cries as my pussy clutches around him as one orgasm chases another.
My fingernails dig into his back as I ride the frenzied wave of need that rises in me as his rut becomes unbridled, his pelvis slamming against my clit, sending the first sharp zips of another larger impending orgasm. I drop my hands, fisting them into the blanket when he sits up and lifts my hips, changing the angle to improve his penetration as he rocks into me in a way that makes my eyes roll with indescribable pleasure. Only my upper back touches the bed as he holds my ass up against him, but when that electric detonation goes off, licking through my blood, my shout seems enough to shake the room of the cottage as my back comes up off the bed in an arch. Garval jerks, jackhammering into me, until his bellow joins my cry, his seed flooding my channel in torrents as my pussy spasms around him, drawing every bit of it deep inside of me.
Slowly and tenderly, he drops beside me, his lips pressing to the flushed skin of my shoulder and neck. I reach back with one arm, curling it around his neck, hugging him to me as I work to struggle to catch my breath. His long hair, having come loose from his bun, streams over my arm, tickling my skin as he gathers me close, curling his enormous body around me. My heart is brimming with more emotion than I can possibly contain.
Stroking back his hair, I turn and look at him, only to find the male sound asleep already. My lips twitch, and his face, which is normally so handsome when he’s awake, is soft enough in sleep to be downright sweet, even with the two enormous tusks. I don’t know if it’s possible for my love to double in that moment, but it almost feels like it, the warm feeling spreads through me at a rate that I can’t seem to contain.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Somewhere, I know he hears me because his lips curve and he mumbles a sleepy, “Love you too,” before dozing off again. It’s enough for me at this moment, and so I grin and hug his giant arm against my chest. Basking in the warmth of his embrace, there are only two thoughts that I have enough energy to summon.
One, I really do love this male.
And two, thank the gods my kids sleep like the dead.
Chapter 16
Garval
I look in the mirror skeptically as I try to adjust my cock in the tight-fitting breeches.
“Stop fussing with your clothes before you claw a hole in something,” my mother huffs as she swats my hand away.
“They feel ridiculous,” I mutter. “They’re too tight.”
“Nonsense. This is how properly fitted clothes are supposed to feel. It is the latest in goblin fashion.”
“Since when do goblins know anything about it?” I mutter, embarrassed on just how much the bulge of my sex is put on display. “And since when do orcs give a mule’s ass about fashion?”
Quick as a striking snake, my mother reaches up and twists the tip of my ear. Letting out a foul curse, I bat her hand away and glower down at her as I protectively cup my hand around the abused flesh.
“What the hell was that for?”
“To give you something else to complain about instead of your breeches,” she replies as she picks up a richly embroidered tunic that I eye with misgivings.
“I’m not wearing that,” I growl.
The scowl that clouds her face is fearsome, certain to inspire the terror of any grown warrior at the keep and throughout the village as she thrusts the tunic under my nose.
“I went through exceptional effort to obtain this for you. Goblins are hardly the most reasonable traders, if you can even manage to get ahold of one long enough to secure a bargain, that is. It is not every day that you claim your bloodbond. It is my responsibility, as your mother, to make certain that you look your best.” She narrows her eyes. “So you will be wearing it.”
“She’s alrea
dy my bloodbond,” I grumble as I reluctantly accept the fabric and pull it over my head.
My mother’s unamused snort is short and to the point in demonstrating her opinion of how I’ve handled my bloodbonding.
“Not that she is aware of it. And without the proper ceremonies too,” she mutters.
I groan, but I can’t deny that she has a point, one that has been on my mind frequently over the last few days. Despite spending every possible minute with my mate, it hasn’t eased my own anxiety over the matter. In fact, the opposite. It makes me feel guilty, especially when I’m slipping out from her bed in the early hours so that her children don’t catch us in a compromising position. Kassie always gives me an amused look as I hustle out, dropping kisses on her mouth repeatedly as I make my way to the door. She never asks me to leave, but I can’t stay when I feel that the matter of mating hasn’t yet been settled. My conscience won’t allow it.
I’ve since decided that a conscience is a terribly inconvenient thing to have at times.
It is for this reason, though I don’t typically give in to her demands, I find myself reluctant to deny my mother in this. Not only does she have a point, but I want to make everything as special as possible for Kassie. A bloodbond is rare enough that when such fated matches happen, and one officially claims their mate, there is a certain amount of pomp and celebration that is expected. Although for most of my adult life I had hoped, being the youngest of her three offspring, that the matings of my siblings would have exhausted my mother enough to keep her from interfering, I have to acknowledge I was quite wrong. Also that, beneath all my grumbling, I’m quite grateful to her for it. Kassie deserves the best of everything, and if anyone is accomplished at acquiring what is needed to carry that off, it is my mother.
Smoothing the tunic over my chest, I fastened the decorative belt around my hips and look myself over in the mirror. The fabric of the tunic is liquid soft and quite comfortable, and to my surprise, the harvest orange hue of the tunic actually complements my deep green coloring. With the dark red embroidered accents, I’m pleased to see it will match perfectly with the blood red and gold dress that Kassie plans to wear. I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother had planned my tunic with that in mind.
“It does look nice,” I grumble as I turn to get a look at the fit from every angle. “At least its long enough to… cover.”
I gesture at the hem touching my upper thighs, just long enough to cover the outline of my cock, and my mother snorts again, but this time with a fond expression.
“I want you to look nice, not be humiliated,” she assures me crisply. “You are not Bodi, who never minded showing off everything the gods gave him. I never thought that one would ever find a female who would tolerate his silliness. Thank the gods for Lynn.”
“Yes, thank the gods, for my mate certainly speaks of me better than my mother does,” Bodi chuckles as he swaggers into the room, his eyes landing on me with warmth.
He is also wearing a velvet tunic, his, however, of the darkest purple and embroidered with silver. Unlike my tunic, his is cut shorter and has two pleats at either side of his cock that shows his “assets,” as he calls them. As I’m still irritated at him, I ignore him, focusing instead on adjusting my tunic and belt into the most flattering lines.
“Ah, no response. No cutting remarks on my fashion? Don’t tell me you’re still mad at me,” he teases.
“You want a comment? Fine. Does Lynn know you’re wearing that out in public?” I snap.
My brother’s brows shoot up at my tone, but he nods, his expression falling into a scowl.
“As a matter of fact, she does. She not only didn’t complain but went and bought the lowest cut dress that guarantees I’ll have to guard her from all unmated males at the ball,” he grumbles.
My lips quirk. Bodi enjoys displaying himself for his mate publicly. That she’s turned it around on him, it seems he doesn’t find that quite as amusing.
“Ah, a smile. That’s something. Now tell me why you’re so mad at me? You’ve been avoiding me for days.”
“You want to know why I’m angry?” I growl, flashing a glower in his direction. “It just might be because you knew how much I wanted Kassie, and you didn’t bother to tell me that she was no longer mated. You would have happily left me in misery, all for your own entertainment.”
He gives me a crooked smile, but not before he winces. “I wouldn’t have let it get that far,” he protests, though it’s weak. “I admit, it was fun watching you hover about trying not to give in to your urges. But I would’ve told you if you hadn’t gotten over being so damned polite.”
“Oh, now it’s a crime to be honorable and polite, is it?” Our mother lifts an eyebrow in his direction. “Well,” she sniffs, “no harm done now, but you leave well enough alone with your brother’s mating or answer to me. Now, did you two bring what you were told to?”
Grinning, I pick up my breeches from where they are discarded on the floor and pull out a small box from the front pocket. Nestled inside is a beautifully polished garnet of a hue that reminds me of her auburn hair, set in gold and several perfect beads that I had drilled and polished, all the work done by my own hand. My mother smiles with delight when I hand her the box. She turns it in the light to properly admire its contents while wiggling the fingers of her other hand at my brother, the signal to hand over the items she sent him out to collect.
“I’ll have you both know that I worked for days polishing these,” Bodi grumbles as he hands over a small leather sack.
“Like your brother didn’t do the same for you,” she chides. “And like I told Garval last year, your sacrifice is appreciated.”
I curl my lip at my brother. Polishing claws is time consuming, but I’m the one between us who has some skill working gems and had labored over the stones he had selected for his own mate’s collar. He returns my silent snarl.
“Stop sneering at each other,” our mother snaps, not even looking in our direction. “Neither of you had better even so much as think of fighting and messing up your clothes.”
That is enough to get us both to back down and stand at either set of her worktable as she sets my box upon it. She then pours out the contents of the sack beside it, revealing four perfectly smoothed and polished claws. Each claw is further engraved with delicate swirls.
“They are nice.” I grunt, bringing a genuine smile back to my brother’s face.
“I couldn’t do any less. You’re my brother. Besides, you did do a very fine job on the stone for Lynn’s collar,” he admits a bit gruffly.
“Nice to see you getting along for five minutes,” our mother observes as she deftly begins to work all the components of the mating collar together.
In less than an hour, she hands me the leather pouch, this time with the mating collar secure within it. I loop the cord around my neck and tuck it into my tunic, feeling the weight of the warm leather settle over my heart. She gives me an approving nod and grabs me by a tusk to drag my head down enough to where she can plant a kiss on my cheek. In the main room, I can hear the commotion of Lynn arriving with the children. My heart soars with excitement, knowing that the moment is getting closer.
“Both of you, go have a good time at the ball,” my mother says, a wide smile breaking out over her usually somber countenance as she continues to hold my face between her hands. “And bring back your bloodbonded mate so our clan can celebrate the growth of our family.”
I nod the best that I can, and she lets me go. Straightening, I smooth my tunic again and receive a friendly slap on my back as I pass my brother on the way out to the main room. I don’t get more than a few steps out of my mother’s work room when I’m besieged by a small human body as Nora flings her arms around me. I hug her and ruffle her hair before gently extracting myself from her clinging grip. She beams up at me, her blue eyes large and admiring, and bounces in place with barely contained glee.
“You look like a fairytale prince!” she exclaims.
“G
ods, no,” Chris groans. “No prince charming sappy shii… stuff,” he amends quickly with a grin at Lynn. He does nod happily though as he takes in my appearance. “You do look badass. I wish Mom would’ve let me have something like that.”
He tugs on the hem of his own deep golden cotton woven tunic but smiles down at his own attire. His breeches are a dark chocolate brown and look far more comfortable than mine. I’m a bit envious of that, but I keep it to myself.
“You look very… ah, badass yourself,” I greet him with a gentle thump on his back. “I take it that you are accompanying Lynn and Bodi to the ball?”
He beams up at me and nods. “Yeah. Ferona is meeting me there. She’s going to die when she sees this.”
I draw back in alarm but relax when I hear Lynn’s laughter.
“Relax. He means that she will be very impressed with his look,” she teases as she draws up to his side, looping an arm around Chris’s smaller frame.
I give him an encouraging smile, though I still find some human phrases alarming, and bid everyone farewell as I step out to collect my mate.
Chapter 17
Kassie
I fidget with my gown, giving my mother uncertain looks in the magic mirror on the table beside the full-length mirror taking up part of my bedroom wall. My mother smiles dreamily at it and shakes her head in awe.
“You look beautiful, Kassie. Oh, I wish I had come with you now. Just look at you! And now going out with your prince charming.”
“He’s an orc, Mom, but definitely a prince as far as I’m concerned,” I agree as I give my reflection a small laugh.
I’ve been staring at myself for the last fifteen minutes since pulling on the gown and all the accessories, and I still can’t believe that it’s actually me in the reflection. I turn and smile at my mother, missing her more than I can put into words.
Trick or Orc: A Monsterly Yours Romance Page 11
