Page 2 of Bewitching the Orc Chief (Silvermist Mates #1)

CHAPTER TWO

OSEN

T he wooden porch creaked beneath my boots. My fingers twitched at my sides, longing to feel Miranda’s soft curves beneath them again. I’d only spent a handful of hours with her, but I was already hooked.

Mate.

The word echoed through my blood with each thundering heartbeat. The urge to sink my teeth into her pale throat, to leave my mark where everyone could see it, threatened to overwhelm my control.

Mate bonds—those true, fated matches that struck like lightning and knocked your world on its ass—were uncommon among orcs. But the unmistakable thrumming in my veins sang the truth loud and clear.

It was supposed to be a date. One date, to keep the elders off my back during an already painful time and transition. They pushed for quick alliances my new rule needed, but I had no intention of allowing them to decide my future bride. They’d only think they controlled every decision I made thereafter.

I clenched my fists. What would Father say? Shaman Alris? They’d spent years teaching me the old ways, the proper steps of courtship. The importance of tradition. Orc tradition.

But Father was gone. And Miranda... Miranda was mine.

She moved ahead through the living room, her hips swaying beneath the damp fabric of her dress. White-blonde hair curled at her nape, still pristine despite the mishap at the bar. The urge to bury my face there and inhale her scent nearly drove me to my knees. Even the three silver hoops piercing the upper curve of an ear seemed designed to drive me wild.

By the gods, how had I gotten so lucky? This beautiful, fascinating human woman was the other half of my soul.

“Let me change into something dry.” She flicked on a lamp and hastily snatched something black off the back of a nearby chair. Red flushed her cheeks and those gorgeous caramel eyes went wide. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Comfortable. Right. As if I could be comfortable when her scent filled every breath. Rosemary and citrus, mixed with something darker. Something that called to the beast in my blood.

I prowled the edges of the room while she disappeared down a short hallway. The cottage was small but cozy, an organized chaos that spoke of a busy mind. Books dominated the space, stacked in precise towers that defied gravity. Medical texts mingled with herb guides and what looked like antique botanical prints. A well-worn copy of “Traditional Healing Methods” peeked out from beneath a volume on crystal properties.

A partially open door revealed glimpses of what must be her workshop. Shelves lined with colorful bottles and jars. A sturdy worktable covered in notes and... was that a mortar and pestle?

Something brushed against my leg. I looked down to find a gray-and-white cat regarding me with unblinking yellow eyes.

“You must be Gus,” I rumbled, crouching to offer my hand. The cat sniffed my fingers, then butted his head against my knuckles. A deep purr vibrated through his small frame.

“Well, that’s a surprise.” Miranda’s voice startled me. “Gus isn’t usually so friendly with strangers.”

I straightened, turning to find her leaning against the doorframe. My mouth went dry. She’d changed into a short silk robe that revealed miles of pale legs. Burgundy again, the same deep color as her dress and her painted nails. The shade seemed a favorite.

I twitched the tip of a very fluffy tail as the tiny beast wove between my legs. “I have a way with animals.”

“Apparently.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Tea?”

She padded to the kitchen on bare feet, the robe swishing against her thighs. I followed close behind, trailing the intoxicating blend of rosemary and citrus.

The kitchen was small, barely big enough for two people, much less a human and an orc. Dried herbs hung from the exposed kitchen rafters, their subtle fragrances mingling with Miranda’s own scent. My nose twitched, trying to identify them. Sage, lavender, something spicier...

“Just cooking herbs.” Her voice carried a hint of... something. Nervousness? “For the business.”

The electric kettle hummed to life. Miranda stretched up on her toes, reaching for a top shelf. Her robe rode up, revealing more of those pale thighs. My cock throbbed. I wanted to spread her over the table and taste every inch of skin. Wanted to make her moan my name while she dug those red-painted nails into my shoulders.

“Here, let me.” I closed the gap between us in two short strides. Miranda’s breath hitched as I crowded her against the cabinets, savoring the feel of her body molded to mine. Reaching over her head, I plucked the tin of loose-leaf tea from its place and handed it to her.

She turned within the circle of my arms. Her chest rose and fell faster, lips parted. Our eyes locked, her caramel irises blown wide. This close, I could count each freckle dusting her nose.

“Thanks.” Her voice came out breathy.

My hand found her hip, steadying her. Or maybe steadying myself. Everything in me screamed to mark her, claim her, make her mine in every way possible.

There were protocols, some part of me objected. Blessings to obtain. What would Father say about this? About taking a human mate? What would Alris?—

Miranda’s fingers traced a line of the tattoos curling around my forearm, and all thoughts of clan politics evaporated. Her touch sent electricity racing under my skin.

“These are beautiful,” she murmured. “What do they mean?”

“Each one tells a story.” I struggled to focus as her fingertip followed the swooping pattern. “Victories. Losses. Rites of passage.”

Her fingers stilled on a particularly deep scar that crossed one tattoo. “And this?”

“The day I became chief.” The words came out rougher than intended. “My father’s challenger left his mark before I could end him.”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes searched mine, bottomless pools of copper and brown. Without breaking eye contact, she ran her fingertip along the length of the scar. Slowly. Gently. “About your father. About all of it.”

The genuine sympathy in her voice made my chest ache. “You understand loss.”

It wasn’t a question. I’d seen it in her eyes at the bar, heard it in her careful way of speaking about her past. Whatever—whoever—she’d left behind had marked her as surely as my scars marked me.

She hummed her assent, her delicate fingers drifting higher, ghosting over the ink peeking above my collar. I closed my eyes, fighting to keep still under her touch. Each touch sent sparks of awareness through my body, stoking the fire that had been building since I first caught her scent.

Miranda’s fingertip brushed the edge of one tusk, and my eyes flew open. She startled at my sharp intake of breath, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she traced the curve of ivory, a question in her eyes.

The growl that rumbled from my chest was pure instinct. Raw, unfiltered need. I crushed her to me, devouring her lips with my own. My hand slid into her silky curls, tilting her head to grant better access. She kissed me back hungrily, teeth and tongue clashing.

One kiss wasn’t enough. Would never be enough. I needed more.

I grabbed her hips and lifted, depositing her on the kitchen counter. She gasped as I stepped between her legs, the silk of her robe gaping open. A scrap of black lace that barely qualified as underwear peeked out from beneath the fabric. Another growl tore from my throat at the sight.

“Gorgeous,” I rumbled, running my hands up her thighs. Her skin was like silk against my rough palms. I couldn’t wait to feel her wrapped around me. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

I pressed my lips to hers again, tasting honey and ale. Her fingers tangled in my hair, sending bolts of need straight to my cock. She arched against me, hungry for more. I groaned, grinding the bulge in my jeans against her core.

She pulled back, gasping for air. I took advantage of the reprieve, kissing down her throat to the swell of her breasts. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her answering laugh was low and husky. “Don’t you dare.”

That was all the encouragement I needed. I captured one hard nipple between my lips, teasing it through the thin fabric of her robe. She moaned, fingers tightening in my hair.

“The sounds you make.” I reached inside her robe to cup her breast, thumb brushing across the sensitive peak. “Do you have any idea what they do to me?”

Her thighs trembled where they gripped my hips. I dragged my tusks down her sternum, leaving light marks that made her shiver. The scent of her arousal filled my nose, making my mouth water.

I dropped to my knees, hooking her legs over my shoulders. The lace was soaked through. I nuzzled against her inner thigh, inhaling deeply. Honey ale lingered on her skin, mixing with her natural sweetness.

“Look at you, so wet for me already.” I pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her center through the lace. She whimpered, hips shifting restlessly. “Such a needy little thing.”

I peeled the fabric aside and licked a long stripe through her folds. She cried out, hands flying to grip the counter's edge. Perfect. I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked gently.

“Oh, fuck!” Her thighs clamped around my head.

I growled into her center, the vibrations earning another desperate cry. She tasted divine—sweet and salty and everything I’d imagined. I lapped at her greedily, memorizing the way she moved, the sounds she made, the way she clawed at my scalp for more.

“That’s it,” I praised between licks. “Let me hear how good it feels. Show me how much you love my tongue on your pretty little pussy.”

Miranda’s moans grew louder, less controlled. Her hips rocked against my face as she chased her pleasure. I slid two thick fingers inside her, curling them until?—

“Osen!” she cried out. “Oh fuck, don’t stop!”

I had no intention of stopping. Not until she fell apart on my tongue. Not until I was buried deep inside her. Fuck, I wanted to watch her ride me until neither of us could remember our own names.

“Come for me,” I ordered, my voice rough with need. “Be a good girl and come on my tongue.”

Another flick of my tongue sent her hurtling over the edge. Her pussy clenched around my fingers as she bucked against my face, nails digging into my scalp. She moaned my name over and over, like it was the only thing keeping her tethered. Like she’d fall apart without my touch.

I lapped up every drop, working her through the aftershocks until she weakly pushed at my head. Only then did I pull back, pressing a last kiss to her inner thigh.

I stood slowly, taking in the sight before me. Miranda leaned on one hand, chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her robe had fallen off one shoulder, leaving her wantonly bare.

My cock throbbed against my zipper. Fuck, I needed to be inside her. Needed to feel her tight heat gripping me. Needed to make her scream my name again.

Those caramel eyes snapped open, meeting mine with a heat that made my breath catch. “Bedroom,” she ordered. “Now.”

A low chuckle rumbled in my chest. Even thoroughly debauched, she had fire. I loved it.

“Giving me orders already?” I wrapped her legs around my hips, lifting her easily. “We’ll have to work on that.”

She laughed—that addictive snort-laugh that had first caught my attention—then gasped as I nipped at her throat. I crowded her against the wall, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. My hips rolled, grinding against her until we were both panting with need.

Her fingers worked frantically at the buttons of my shirt. We stumbled down the hallway, bouncing off walls between heated kisses. By the time we stumbled into the bedroom, my shirt lay discarded on the floor and the fly of my jeans splayed open.

I dropped her on the bed, enjoying the view of her sprawled across the sheets. Pale skin flushed pink, chest heaving, burgundy lipstick smeared beyond repair. Sinful curves and deliciously rumpled blonde curls.

She was mine.

I kicked off my pants, freeing my aching erection. Miranda’s eyes widened, roaming hungrily down my body. The flare of heat in her gaze made my cock twitch.

I climbed over her, caging her in with one arm braced beside her head. She surged upward, catching my lower lip between her teeth. I groaned as she bit down, sliding her hands along my stomach before wrapping slender fingers around my shaft.

I hissed in pleasure as she stroked me, pumping my length with practiced strokes. Pre-cum beaded at the tip. With a wicked smile, she swiped her thumb across it and brought it to her lips. I watched, mesmerized, as she licked the digit clean.

Fuck.

I pinned her wrists above her head in one large hand. The gesture earned me another throaty laugh, one that morphed into a moan as I rocked my hips against hers. My cock slid along her folds, coating my shaft in her arousal.

“How badly do you want this?” I rasped, sucking a bruise into her throat. “How badly do you want my cock inside you?”

“Don’t tease.” She writhed beneath me, arching toward the contact. “Osen, please...”

“Please what?” I pressed just the tip inside her, groaning at how hot and wet she was. So fucking ready for me.

Miranda keened, pushing forward. I rewarded her with another shallow thrust, stretching her deliciously. But she needed more, and I would not last long. I ached to plunge deep inside, to feel her clenching around me.

I dipped my head to suck her nipple between my teeth, flicking my tongue across the hard peak. She whimpered, muscles trembling. I knew exactly how she felt. I was drowning in her, falling under the spell of her pleasure. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed except us.

I eased deeper, savoring the sensation of her body yielding for me. Inch by inch, I sank into her slick heat until she took all of me. Until our hips met, and she whined my name.

“Fuck,” I panted, fighting the urge to pound into her. She felt perfect. Like she was made for me. Like her body had been waiting to take every inch of me.

“So big.” Her voice came out strained. She rolled her hips experimentally, testing the limits. Her eyelids fluttered shut, lost in the sensation. “Holy shit.”

With a groan, I rolled my hips back before filling her again. And again. Long, deep strokes that dragged shudders from us both. I watched her face contort in ecstasy, committing the look to memory. Every gasp and moan made my balls tighten. She was stunning like this, and it was all for me.

“You feel fucking incredible,” I breathed, releasing her wrists to slip my hands under her ass. I tilted her hips upward, changing the angle. “Taking my cock so well, sweetheart. Look at you, stuffed full and begging for more.”

She threw her head back, lips parted in a soundless cry. My name tumbled from her lips like a prayer, over and over, until it dissolved into incoherence. Pleasure raced through my veins, drawing tighter with every thrust.

“Scream my name.” I drove deeper, harder, claiming her with each stroke. “Let everyone know who you belong to.”

Miranda’s fingernails scored down my back, drawing a feral snarl. She bucked against me, matching my rhythm stroke for stroke. Her pussy gripped me like a glove, and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer.

“You’re mine, Miranda.” I captured her mouth in a brutal kiss. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

“Yes.” She choked out the word, writhing under me. “Please, Osen! Please, I need?—”

“I know what you need.” I sucked another bruising kiss into her throat, tasting sweat and musk and sex. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

One last hard thrust sent her over the edge. Her spine bowed, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. Ecstasy flashed across her face as her orgasm ripped through her.

Seeing her fall apart beneath me was all I needed. With a roar, I slammed into her once more and buried myself deep. Blinding pleasure crashed over me, stealing my breath as I came harder than I ever had in my life.

We collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of sweaty limbs. I rolled to the side, pulling Miranda with me so she sprawled across my chest. For several long moments, the only sound was our ragged breathing as we came down from our shared high.

“That was... incredible,” I murmured against her skin, inhaling her intoxicating scent of rosemary and citrus. My fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine as she nestled closer.

“Understatement.” Miranda hummed contentedly, looking every bit as blissed out as I felt. “You’ve ruined me.”

Pride swelled in my chest. If anyone deserved to be spoiled with multiple orgasms, it was the goddess in my arms. I couldn’t wait to worship her body again. And again. Over and over until I memorized every curve and sigh.

Mine.

Maybe the elders weren’t completely wrong about everything. Maybe fate had guided me here, to this moment. To my mate.

Miranda’s breathing slowed, her body going slack against mine. A soft smile played on her lips as she drifted off, and I pulled her closer, savoring her warmth.

After a few minutes, I shifted to grab the blanket. She didn’t stir. Not even a twitch. Frowning, I touched her shoulder.

“Miranda?”

Nothing. Her chest rose and fell steadily, but she was completely unresponsive. I shook her gently, then with more force when she didn’t react.

“Miranda, wake up.” My voice came out sharper, edged with worry.

I sat up, cradling her limp form. Her head lolled against my chest, but her breathing remained deep and even. Too even. This wasn’t natural sleep.

Silvermist’s clinic was closest, but Dr. Harrison’s face flashed through my mind—his cold eyes at the council meeting, the way he’d gleefully accused the clan of murder. The memory of my father’s body on the pyre not long after made my jaw clench.

No. I couldn’t risk taking her there.

Which left Alris. My stomach turned at the thought of the shaman’s hands on her, those calculating eyes examining her. But he was the clan’s healer, and something was very wrong.

“Hold on,” I murmured, pressing my lips to her forehead. “I’ve got you.”

I gathered Miranda in my arms, wrapping her in the blanket. Her skin was warm, her pulse steady, but she remained lost to whatever force held her under. Whatever was wrong, whatever had caused this unnatural sleep, I would fix it. I had to.

Because I’d only just found her. And I’d be damned if I let anything take her from me now.