Chapter 13

SITA

E verything is bright and swirling in the most magical way. I haven’t felt this light and airy since the beer that I drank with some of the other girls in my village, just before I found out I was being sold off to the orcs.

That was only a few months ago, but it feels like another lifetime. The sting is less acute tonight, surrounded by a community, feeling as if I belong for the first time since I arrived here. Now I’m dragging Gurrek along behind me, who seemed in a foul mood after my inopportune question about younglings. I didn’t consider how insensitive it was until he clammed up.

Now that he has me, his chance for marrying an orc woman and ever having younglings is gone.

But I tamp down those thoughts because the cider is making me happy, and I’m enthralled with the festival and the atmosphere of togetherness floating all about the square. The orcs are louder and rowdier than humans are, but the sense of community is familiar. Almost comforting.

I think it’s the first time I’ve felt at home since I arrived here.

Emboldened by the stranger who introduced herself to me earlier—and even invited me to her home!—I hurl myself into the group of dancers. An orc laughs when I bump into him.

“Sorry!” I say, backing away.

“Have fun!” he answers, and grabs his dance partner around the waist to bend him back and kiss him.

I’m so shocked by the open affection that I don’t notice Gurrek standing behind me until he speaks.

“You wanted to dance?”

I turn around to find his hand held out, waiting for me. I take it in mine, and Gurrek’s fingers are thick and solid, hard and rough on the pads. His feet take up the pace of the beat and soon mine do, too. I don’t let go of his hand as we each try to get into the swing of our shared movements, occasionally stepping on each other’s toes. It hurts when he steps on mine, as big as he is, but I don’t let it show.

The cider has cast an enchantment on me, and my body is eager to fly about while anchored to Gurrek’s hand. I spin around in a circle, twirling his hand over my head, and he lets out an unguarded laugh. The next time around, he curls me into his arm, then releases me like a spinning top, and I let out a whoop.

We dance like that until we’re sweating, then we take a break to drink more. I feel giddy and light surrounded by so many orcs who are free in their enjoyment of the music, the drink, and the food.

“Here, eat a little,” Gurrek says, making a piece of pie appear out of nowhere.

I eat the pie at super speed, and he finishes off the crust before I’m dragging him back out to the dance floor again. Everything feels fluid, simple, easy; Gurrek’s big mouth is wide with a smile, his tusks high on his cheeks as we dance more, still holding hands and trying not to trip over each other. The scent of him is all around me—his personal musk mixed with just a hint of the soot from the forge. I want even more of it, so I come closer as we dance, breathing him in whenever he slides his arm around my back.

Then the song is over, and the musicians swap out. This time, the music is slower, more ethereal and full of feeling. We can’t dance fast like we did before, and the mood of the music makes me drift in towards Gurrek, wishing he would touch more than just my hand.

“Will you put your arms here?” I ask, feeling bold. I draw his fingers down to my waist, mimicking the way the other orcs are dancing now that the tone is more romantic.

Gurrek’s eyebrows rise but he doesn’t object, and his other hand obediently comes to rest at my opposite hip.

An immense pleasure runs through me at this heightened closeness. The smell of him is even stronger here, more intoxicating, drawing out little embers inside me and stirring them up. My hands find their way around his neck, and though I’ve seen his corded muscle there before, feeling it under my fingertips is something else. It’s as if someone has blown a hot breath on the embers in my belly because they all turn bright and hot, and without my conscious command, my fingers have tangled in the hair at the base of Gurrek’s neck. I have to get even closer to reach this high, and before I know it, my body is pressed so close to his that I can feel every muscle of his chest and belly against me. He breathes in sharply, and I wonder if he might just push me away—but instead, his arms close around me, his hands spreading wide across my back and hips as he brings me in.

While the music carries us in slow rotations around one another, I find my head drifting into Gurrek’s chest, mesmerized by his steady breathing. It rises and falls under my cheek, and I tighten my hold as if I might drift away. Gurrek’s hand slides up my back, running underneath my hair. He gently leans my head against him, tucking me under his chin.

I have never felt so precious, so treasured by someone, as I do now. It’s as if Gurrek is everywhere, swallowing me up so that he can protect me like the hard shell of an egg. I know I’m safe here, that absolutely nothing can touch me as long as I’m surrounded by him.

As the music drifts on, I want more. Now that we’re so close and this high wall between us has been breached, I’m craving a different kind of touch. My clothes are starchy and thick, keeping me from truly feeling Gurrek’s big body against mine the way I want. What does he look like under his shirt? What does he feel like?

More and more of the dancers have left as the night goes on and the full moon rises higher, leaving only the devotees, most of them filled with bubbly alcohol like we are. As if sensing the latent energy in the small crowd, the musicians shift tone one more time, bringing the tempo up to a frantic beat.

Gurrek reluctantly releases me as the revelers around us dance more wildly, and I catch sight of Lassa among them. She reaches toward me, and on reflex, I grab her outstretched hand. Then I’m torn away from Gurrek, spinning in circles with Lassa instead. I let out a laugh as she sends me twirling away, only to be swept up by another orc I’ve never seen before. His hands are light and gentle as he swings me around, then passes me off to the next orc, a very tall woman with a massive mane of hair. Soon everyone in the crowd is involved in the dance, and somewhere on the other side of the plaza is Gurrek, who’s also moving and spinning and, to my surprise, laughing.

A dance this wild, this carefree, would never have happened in my village. It is a delight, a wonder, to be surrounded by so many strangers who have all welcomed me into their fold.

When I’m passed far enough around the crowd that I’ve made my way back to him, Gurrek seizes me around the middle, bringing me into the circle of his arms as if he’s afraid I’ll get whisked away again.

“Kiss!” someone shouts. It’s Lassa, pumping her fist into the air. “Kiss! Kiss!”

I’m so stunned that I freeze in Gurrek’s grip. His expression is just as scandalized.

Then other orcs around us take up the chant. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

We’re surrounded on all sides, but everyone has joy on their faces, and thrill bubbles up inside me.

I want that. I want Gurrek to kiss me with those thick, full lips—if he feels about me the way I hope he does.

Boldly, I slide my arms around his neck, looking up into those yellow eyes that have become so familiar to me, so comfortable, like home. He’s searching me, too, as if weighing it in his mind.

“Kiss her!” Lassa calls out. “She’s your wife!”

Gurrek looks as if this fact is just occurring to him.

“I am,” I murmur to him. “If you want me.”

“Fuck,” is all he says in response. I know this word because Merka uses it whenever she sticks her finger with a needle. Then Gurrek ducks his head down, and his lips press firmly against mine.

I’m instantly soaring, my heart flying up into my throat. I close my eyes as I press back, deepening the kiss, showing him with my lips and hands how I want him. His beard tickles my face while his fingers trail up to the nape of my neck, cradling my head possessively as he sucks in my lower lip, teasing it, taunting it. I’m surprised by how dexterous and seductive it is despite his tusks.

All around us, the orcs go wild. Clapping and cheering fuels us, and I’m standing on my toes so I can sink even deeper into Gurrek. His other arm tightens around my waist, bringing my hips against his as he shifts his attention to my upper lip.

I’ve been kissed before, but never with such ferocious desire. My breasts press against his chest, our bodies now in full, heated contact. My tongue darts out to lick his lips, and I’m surprised by the groan he lets out into my mouth. Then his tongue meets mine, and it’s so thick and wet and skillful that I might just burst like a soap bubble. He tightens his grip on me and soon my feet are no longer touching the ground. He kisses me hungrily, like a man starved, and the orcs around us whoop and holler.

When at last, Gurrek sets me down again, my head is spinning and I feel unsteady on my feet. The rest of the crowd has resumed dancing to the frenetic beat of the music, leaving us alone as we slowly pull apart.

We’re both panting as we gaze at one another, Gurrek’s eyes hooded with need. I’m warm, so warm everywhere, but especially at the base of my belly. I want even more kissing, more touches, more of everything.

“Gurrek,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him again. “Will you take me home?”

He nods rapidly, and when I pull away, he seizes my hand in his and winds our fingers together. We slip through the crowd out into the fresh air, where the vendors around the plaza have already packed up and gone home for the night. I giggle as Gurrek sets a quick pace, pulling me along behind him to the path that will lead us back to the house.

When I stumble, because my legs aren’t responding properly to my commands, Gurrek turns to me and stoops down, sliding one arm around my back and the other under my thighs. He easily lifts me up off the ground, swinging me into his firm grasp. I squeak as he continues trotting again, his arms firm and strong around me. Looping my hands around his neck to keep myself anchored to him, I lean into his shoulder as we race toward home.

Gurrek doesn’t speak, but I don’t mind. If his thoughts are anything like mine, they are heady and lusty.

He only sets me down once we reach the front door, which he pushes open with surprising force. Leaving me there, he fetches a match and lights the lamps along the walls, and I wobble from one foot to the other while I wait for him to return. When he loops an arm around my back to hold my weight, I giggle and lean into him, feeling warm and happy all over. The only thing I want is for him to hold me, touch me, and maybe do other things to me, too.

Yes, I would like that.

“Husband,” I say, giggling again. “ My husband.”

Gurrek shoots me a wide-eyed look. “Yes,” he says, a tad uncertain. “Your husband.”

“And I’m your wife!” I smother my face in his shoulder, inhaling the comforting scent of him.

He nods in agreement. “That you are.”

“What do husbands and wives do when they’re alone?” I ask, standing up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

Gurrek falls still. He doesn’t answer at first, and I hope I haven’t upset him by asking. Then he slips his arms around me, pulling me in close.

“All sorts of things,” he says into my hair, which he then kisses. “If they want to.”

I tremble with the suggestion of all sorts of things .

“Well, I want to.”

Gurrek lets out a breath that sounds like he’s been holding it for weeks.

“Truly, you want to?”

I curl my hands around his neck and pull him down toward me, probably the most forward I’ve ever been in my life. But I know what I want, and it’s Gurrek. It’s undeniably Gurrek, with such a sweet and gentle soul, with arms like tree trunks and a face that’s become so curiously beautiful to me.

I kiss him hard, and he returns it with just as much vigor, deepening it until our tongues are a tangle and so are our hands.

“Yes,” I whisper into his mouth. My lips feel loose and honest. “Now show me these ‘things.’”

He groans against me. We separate long enough for him to open the door to his bedroom, the inside of which I’ve never glimpsed. There’s a desk, a dresser, and a big bed with four posts and a massive wooden headboard. It’s covered in woven blankets and thick furs, and it looks oh-so-welcoming. I’m tired of holding myself up, so I stumble until I’m sitting on it. I smooth my hands over the soft blankets, luxuriating in the gift of being in Gurrek’s bedroom, on his bed.

When Gurrek doesn’t move, though, I beckon him towards me. Obediently he steps forward until I’m facing his groin, where I find a rather large lump straining at the confines of his trousers. Before I can second-guess myself, I reach out and stroke it.

Gurrek grunts, and I look up to find his eyes have fallen closed. I stroke it again, cupping my hand to feel all the way around the cylindrical shape hidden underneath, and his hips jerk under me.

I know what’s hiding there, and I wish for nothing more than to free it. To see it, and feel it, and maybe find pleasure with it.

“Gurrek.” I say his name boldly, loudly. His eyes snap open and he gazes down at me, a question in his eyes. “Come here.”

I fall back to the bed, holding out my hands to him. Uncertainly he steps closer, then places one knee on the blankets beside me. When he crouches, bracketing my face with his hands, I pull him in for another kiss.

This time, he groans, and the bed shifts as he kneels over me. Wantonly I lift my hips, showing him what I want: his whole body, all of him, right where he belongs.