CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

My bride collapses forward onto me, her sweet sex still gripping the end of my cock. My knot thickens the base, feeling cold for the lack of her heat, my body wanting to be buried deep. But it would be foolish to knot her and lock us together for hours. This cave feels safe, but even though its single opening makes it readily defensible, it's not secure enough for me to risk making us vulnerable.

Taylor pulls her knees up to straighten her legs along the top of mine. Her thighs brush the knot, and she stills but for the hand that reaches down her back to feather over the base of my cock.

"What's that?"

"It's my knot."

"Knot?" Her touch grows bolder, and I groan as her palm cups the side of my added thickness.

"It happens when I climax," I say. "Though not every time.'

"So this is special?"

I gaze down into her beautiful brown eyes. "You're special. My knot's never formed for anyone else." None of my previous bed partners were serious encounters. Knotting is always a good sign that you've found a compatible match, and I never had any doubts it would happen for Taylor.

"And it…" She swallows. "It would happen inside me?"

"Yes," I growl, imagining the pleasure of burying my knot in her wet heat. "When I knot you, we'll be locked together for hours."

"Hours." She squirms again, slipping free of my erection and rolling to curl against my side. All of her attention focuses on my cock, her eyes and hands exploring me until I groan with the pleasure of an aftershock.

More fluid spills from the tip, adding to the orc seed already coating both of us. As soon as she lets me go, I roll onto my side to face her and pull her higher until her head pillows on my arm. I drag my fingers up and down her front, spreading my seed until it coats her sweet little breasts, rubbing it into her skin. A growling possessive hunger within me grows temporarily sated at the smell of her marked by my scent.

Then my hand drifts lower, slicking the new fluid over her swollen pearl.

She gasps, "Oh, I can't…"

"You can. You will," I growl. "You'll be my good girl and come again for me."

My fingers glide over her, playing her body like a lute, with me a virtuoso. Everything I learned during the Faerie Fruit encounter comes back into play. I know my bride, know what she wants. I use the length of my fingers to pinch along each side of her sensitive nub, then dive inside. I loved her well, but she's still achingly tight, the wet velvet of her inner walls clasping around me until all I can imagine is how good it will feel to fill her again with my cock.

Even as need pounds through me, my fingers slow. I will draw this out, make this so good for her she'll be fully wooed and mine. Soft and gentle, I stroke into her, barely brushing the tips of my fingers against that spot she likes so well.

Her eyes flutter as she bites at her lip. I growl and lean over, sucking it into my mouth, running my tongue over its softness before teasing it across hers.

Her hips shift, her breath catching as she makes needy little noises.

I suck at her mouth, eating the whimpers straight from her lips like a starving man, pulling all of her desire into me.

Each touch a little faster, a little firmer, than the last, I bring her right to the edge until she clings to my shoulders, my name a plea moaned into my mouth.

"See? You're being such a good girl for me. And good girls get to come." I press the heel of my hand firmly against her sensitive nub even as my fingers caress her inside. "Come for me, my Taylor."

My commands shivers through her, and she flutters around my fingers in a bewitching dance of pleasure. My bride cries my name, her voice suffused with delight, and it's the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

"Goddess knows, anyone could have snuck in here and attacked you," an overly amused voice says. "Good thing I like you."

One of my arms curves around Taylor, and the other reaches for the hilt of my sword. Then my sleep-fogged brain recognizes the voice. I crack one eye open and growl, "Mist."

Daylight highlights the cave mouth behind her, turning the feline fae into a dark figure with the silver tips of her mane glowing around her.

"You should be glad the unicorn can't fit through the opening." Her smile flashes, bright in her smoke-gray face. "He threatened to come in and kick you awake."

"He wouldn't."

"True. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't want to. You've overslept."

My moon bound burrows her face into my side, moaning, "Too early."

She's very much not a morning person, and I wonder if this is the real reason humans drink the bitter liquid called coffee—to make up for a species-wide weakness. Unfortunately, the only coffee in Alarria waits back in Moon Blade Village, the home I don't plan to return to until I can visit in triumph as one of the king's guard.

I brush her wild hair off her cheek and press a kiss to it. "Sleep a little longer. I'll get our things."

When I roll up to sitting, I slide the fur off me and tuck it around my bride to keep her warm. The morning air is refreshingly cool against my bare skin as I pull on a clean shirt and pants to limp outside, my thigh already better since I fell into a healing sleep for part of the night.

My boots sit sprawled among the rest of our discarded clothing. Taylor said something last night about being happy to be clean, so after she fell asleep, I snuck out, washed our clothes, and spread them out to dry. It's not as good as touching them to the cleaning stone back at Moon Blade Village to perfectly launder them, but it'll do.

Mist picks her way over the various items, her steps precise. Her green eyes sparkle with laughter. "I certainly see why you're both so tired."

Storm snorts in amusement, hoof striking stone where he stands on the path.

I go over and pat his withers. "Thank you, my friend, for fighting valiantly by my side yesterday."

"I am a fierce warrior."

"That you are." I tip my head.

"You're not so bad yourself. A sword isn't as good as a unicorn horn, but you came close." And with that bit of high praise, he taps my shoulder with his horn.

"Isn't this lovely?" Mist says, her eyes laughing at us.

"My thanks to you, too," I say, tipping my head toward her. "You fought well."

"Of course I did." She extends a set of long claws and starts to clean them.

Storm says, "Can we be going? We're close to our goal." His white coat gleams with health, all of his cuts already healed.

As good as my thigh feels, I still envy his magic. "Give us a little more time. Not all of us have your healing ability. Taylor's tired. She's not used to battles."

"She's not used to you riding her all night, you mean," Mist teases.

I grin, remembering how many times my bride screamed my name.

The delicate fabric of her lacy undergarments has dried, as has her shirt and my clothing. The damp blue canvas of her human pants clearly lack the waterproofing spells of my leather ones.

When I return to the cave and call her name, she bolts upright, her hair swirling around her head as she clutches the furs to her chest. "Oh, no! You're the one who's hurt! I should have been doing all the extra walking."

"It's fine." I hold out her undergarments. "In fact, I washed our clothes last night."

She stands and pulls them from my hand. "What? When?"

I brush my thumb over her lower lip, tugging on its plump softness. "You, my bride, sleep so very deeply when you're thoroughly satisfied."

Her cheeks darken, but she smiles.

"Get ready to head out!" Mist calls from outside. "The unicorn's antsy!"

A deep grumble comes from Storm, the words incomprehensible, but the tone clear.

Taylor slips the straps of her bra over her arms and fastens it in front between her breasts.

I watch with rapt attention, first to enjoy her nudity and also to know how to remove the purple contraption later.

She pulls on her underwear and shirt, but makes a small moue of distaste when she feels the dampness of her pants.

"Wait." I hold my clean shirt out to her. "You can wear this as a skirt, and we'll hang your pants from a saddlebag so they can dry as we ride."

"Good idea." And it is. The neck hole is only slightly larger than her waist, and she pulls the sleeves up and ties them around her like a belt. The bottom hem falls to her ankles. She kicks out a leg, having plenty of room to move in the belling width of the improvised skirt. My moon bound smiles up at me. "I may look ridiculous, but I love it. Super comfy."

"You're beautiful in anything," I say, pulling her to me, "but most especially in nothing."

"Come on!" Storm bellows from outside, his voice echoing off the canyon walls until it multiplies a thousand times.

Taylor spins away from me with a laugh, and I follow the sweet sound out into the morning light.