Page 15 of Mistletoe (Monsters of the Nexus #3)

Chapter Fourteen

Emma

Mistletoe Farm

The Barn

The blizzard came out of nowhere.

Knowing that didn’t help her current situation.

Emma trudged forward, holding a hand over her face to shield herself. The snow flew sideways, obscuring anything more than a foot in front of her. The wind pierced all her layers, sending freezing cold needles directly to her skin. Worse, it stung her eyes. She blinked back tears, trying to clear her vision. Tears leaked down her cheeks, the exposed skin burning.

She couldn’t see the barn. Turning around, she couldn’t see the house either. Not even the glow of lights. There was only the snow narrowing her world down to the space directly in front of her.

She took a few steps forward and realized that she had been there before. The blowing snow hadn’t covered the older tracks. She was going in circles.

No need to panic. She made the journey from the house to the barn a dozen times a day. She’d done it in the rain, in the middle of the night without a star in the sky, and she could do it now in a blizzard.

Hopefully.

Taking a moment to orient herself, Emma pushed forward. She could do this. She knew the way. She repeated that mantra with every step.

A figure emerged from the snow, dark and massive. The only splash of color was a red scarf.

Hal.

Without saying a word, he scooped her off her feet and cradled her against his chest. She should have protested, but it was nice having a barricade against the wind. She buried her face against the fabric of his coat, enjoying the warmth.

Once inside the barn, Hal set her down.

“Thank you.” She stomped her boots to remove the snow. “The storm is worse than I thought.”

“What were you thinking?” he demanded.

“I was thinking the goats needed fresh water and hay, and I should do it now because the storm won’t let up until morning.” Emma shook the snow off her coat and hung it on a peg to dry. Her first attempt missed the peg entirely, but she found it and a nearby lantern.

The lantern sputtered to life. The dim glow illuminated Hal, adding drama to his features. His hair escaped from his braid and had been tousled by the wind. His coat hung open.

“The weather is vicious. You should have remained inside.”

“I still have to take care of the animals.”

“I will handle that.” He plucked the hat off her head and frowned. “This is wet. You are wet.”

“It is snowing sideways.”

“Your lips are blue and your hands are freezing.” He rubbed her hand between his own.

Emma closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hands. They felt toasty warm. “How are you so warm? You’re barely wearing anything.”

“I run hotter than you. This is soaking wet.” He plucked at the sleeves of her outermost layer.

“Snow. Sideways. It gets everywhere.” Down the collar of her shirt. In her boots. In her mittens. She was cold and wet.

“Remove your wet clothes,” he ordered.

“Sir, I do not believe we are acquainted like that,” she said in a mock scandalized tone, fluttering her lashes at him.

“We are acquainted like that,” he replied. The heat in his voice was enough to raise her temperature, driving out the cold from her bones.

Emma blushed. She meant it to shift his mood from worry to something lighter.

The mood shifted, but it wasn’t lighter.

“We are acquainted like that,” she agreed. And she wanted to be better acquainted. “We’ll be here a while. Possibly all night.”

He nodded. “You cannot go back out in this storm.”

“We’re stuck together.”

“Let’s warm you up,” Hal said.

“Honestly, I’m feeling pretty warm right now.” She laid a hand on his chest.

Hal’s large hand covered her own. She could just make out his grin in the dim lantern light.

Emma stretched up, grabbed his braid, and tugged, encouraging him to lean down. She kissed him softly. His lips were warm and inviting. She was absolutely positive that hers were like ice.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. “Let’s get settled and then I can take off these wet things.”

“I approve of this plan.”

She laughed, playfully swatting his arm.

The barn was basic in construction, with wood slats with no insulation and tar shingles on the roof. When the wind blew hard, the temperature inside plummeted. The animals had their winter coats and plenty of hay to bed down in. Emma planned to do the same.

She made a nest of hay in an empty stall and covered it in saddle blankets. Hal then strung rope over the stall to hang more blankets, creating a tent.

“It’ll keep the heat in,” he said.

Emma crawled in, the hay crunching under her knees. One side of the tent remained open, where they left the lantern. Once settled, she unlaced her boots, her numb fingers fumbling with the laces, eventually pulling them off along with her socks. Wet socks were the single worst sensation in the universe, in her experience.

It was already warmer.

“How did you know to do that?” she asked.

“We could not always afford heat when I was a child. Or an adult, to be honest.”

“You remember that?”

He focused on unlacing his own foot coverings. The leather and shearling lining was soaked. “It is odd. Some part of me remembers how to string the blankets to make an enclosure. I know it happened, but I cannot recall a specific memory.”

“Maybe it’s the cold that’s helping you remember.”

Emma set her boots outside the tent. Now for her other damp layers. She had on a thick wool dress over a thick petticoat and wool leggings underneath. Her fingers fumbled at the front buttons.

“Let me,” Hal said, kneeling in front of her. His large fingers were marginally more successful at undoing the buttons at her throat. He spread the fabric, exposing the base of her throat.

He leaned in, pressing his nose to her skin and inhaled. “May I?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He licked and kissed, working his way up to her throat and along her jaw. The tusks dragged along, creating the best kind of friction. The final button undone, he pushed the shirt open, revealing the chemise underneath.

“I think my skirt is wet, too,” Emma said. Rising to her knees, she twisted until he could reach the ties.

The outer layer came off, followed by the petticoat and chemise.

“How many layers do you have?” he asked, sounding amused.

“One more.” She wiggled out of the petticoat and chemise, revealing the final layer of wool leggings and a soft undershirt.

“I’m filing a formal complaint. This is inhumane.”

She laughed. “The outer layer gets wet but I stay dry.”

“No, you’re mistaken.” He ran his fingers around the waistband of the leggings. “This is soaking wet. They have to come off.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, pushing his hand away to roll down the leggings herself.

As she shed the last of her clothes, Emma burned with desire. Any last-minute doubts about her figure, those rude strands of gray hair, or the blemishes on her skin were erased by the adoration in his expression.

He groaned at the sight of her. “So beautiful.”

He pushed her down to their makeshift nest, arms caging her in.

Emma ran her hands over his shoulders, frustrated by the fabric between them. “I want to see you, Hal.”

He rolled to the side and sat upright. His posture had changed, now stiff and awkward. “You’ve seen me.”

Emma sat up. “True. There’s nothing you can show me tonight that I didn’t see a few weeks ago, but maybe you noticed that I kept averting my eyes.”

“You were very awkward about it.” Humor crept into his tone.

“I’d like to savor it.” She reached out, twisting her fingers into the cloth of his shirt. “Let me savor you.”

“Am I a snack?” Now he smiled.

She was at a loss. “Are you hungry? I’m sorry, I don’t have anything in the barn but feed for animals. The horses have oats, if you’re desperate.” Although she wouldn’t recommend chewing on plain, dry oats.

“On Earth, a long, long time ago, it meant you found someone tasty.” He lifted her hand, turning it over to expose her wrist, and kissed the flesh there. “Someone so delicious that you want to sink your teeth into and eat them up.”

He kissed the spot above her wrist. “Someone to work up an appetite.”

Another kiss, then a lick, climbing to the crease of her elbow.

Emma giggled at the sensation, suddenly finding herself ticklish. “I didn’t realize things were so bad on Earth that you had to resort to cannibalism.”

He dropped her arm. “You did not make a joke about my deep-seated trauma.”

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, putting on an unconcerned act. “Seems I did, sweet pea .”

“Sweet pea?” He blinked, confused.

“I was committed to the bit but couldn’t think of anything green and edible,” she confessed.

He grinned, that smile twisting his lips in a way she had grown to love. Such a serious face needed to laugh as often as possible.

She could do that, she decided. Today. Tomorrow. All the days.

“Sweet pea,” he said.

The playful growl was all the warning she had before he lunged and pushed her back down onto the straw. She giggled as he covered her with kisses, beginning with her lips, straying down to her collarbone, and lavishing her breasts. He sucked on one nipple while teasing the other between his thumb and forefinger.

She sighed with pleasure, arching her back and enjoying how he worshipped her. As good of a distraction as he provided, she refused to lose sight of her goal. She wrapped his braid around her hand and tugged, pulling his face up to meet hers.

“I want to touch you,” she said with urgency. “I need you.”

Hal

She was a miracle. How could he deny her?

Hal rolled to the side and sat on his knees. He removed the shirt first.

Nothing she hasn’t seen already.

Knowing this did not calm his fear. What if he were too big, too disfigured, too green ? It was one thing to kiss and cuddle. Seeing him naked was another level.

Lying on her side, her hair spilled across the blanket. The dim light caught the gold highlights and smoldered. She smoldered.

For him.

She smiled reassuringly. “Do you want to see my scars?”

“You’re perfect.”

She laughed softly, then sat upright. She drew up a knee and tapped the stretch of skin just before the kneecap. “I was fourteen, maybe fifteen, when I did this one to myself. I was arguing with Felix, because that’s what you do at that age, and I was cutting an apple on my lap. Except I was very angry and decided to stab the apple. On my lap. Ta-da!” She waved a hand over the pale oval scar.

“Why were you stabbing apples?” Hal touched the spot. The scar tissue felt harder, different from the softer flesh surrounding it, but it was not better or worse than any feature on her body. It was part of her, therefore perfect.

“Because I didn’t think it through, obviously.”

“My scars are not from thoughtless action.”

“I know, but they’re part of you. If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to.”

“No,” he said. “Yes, I am uncomfortable, but I will show you. I cannot deny you.”

He removed the shirt, held his breath, and waited.

The dim light would hide the worst of the scars. He had only caught a glimpse of his torso in the small mirror, but he saw the jagged line that cut across his face. The rest of him could only be worse.

She stretched her hand toward the scar that ran down his arm, hesitating to touch.

He repulsed her, just as he feared.

Flinching, he closed his eyes and turned away, shame burning in him.

“May I touch you?” she asked.

“You do not have to. I know my appearance is alarming.”

“Look at me. Hal,” she said gently, “please look at me.”

Slowly, he turned to face her.

“Your appearance does not alarm me. I was concerned that the scars might be painful, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

No one had ever cared if they hurt him. The world that created him certainly did not care for his comfort or his existence. His brother claimed to care but subjected him to painful and useless treatments. He struggled to remember a friend or a kind stranger. Charlotte, in the dungeon before he escaped. She was the only one, and even then, she had not inquired about his pain.

“They always hurt,” he said. The stitches did not want to heal. He was unsure how long he had them, a month or a century. The grafted flesh was red and swollen where it met the rest of him. It did not improve, but it did not get worse. He suspected that it was the status quo. “It hurts more when you are scared to touch me.”

“Never.” She traced her fingers along the scar on his arm, then across his torso. His face. The one along his hip peeked above the waistband of his pants. Her hand settled there. “You have no idea how much I wanted to touch you that night when you took a bath in the kitchen, and I brushed your hair.”

“Did you?” That baffled him. He had been gaunt and filthy.

“That first night in the barn, too.”

“You weren’t scared?”

“Surprised.” Her hand dipped below the waistband, finding him. Caressing.

He stiffened, in all senses, under her touch. She was everything. Soft and warm. Electric. He tingled and buzzed where she stroked him.

She paused, ran her thumb over him, and made a curious sound. He sucked in a breath as she caressed him once more. “I really want these to come off.”

He complied, removing his trousers with lightning speed.

Her gaze landed on his groin. He knew he was unusual. He’d been an average man once, and what he had now was not average. The size was larger, but he also had a bony growth sitting above his penis.

“Am I acceptable?” he asked.

“Yes, never doubt that. Can I ask you about it?”

“My extra bits?”

She nodded. “I knew I saw it earlier, but I didn’t want to be unseemly and stare.”

He nearly laughed at the absurd notion, as if decorum mattered now. “Would you believe me if I said I woke up with this extra appendage above my dick?” That was exactly how it happened. After his transformation, Hal discovered he had a bit more of himself.

“May I touch you there?” she asked.

“Always.”

Lightly with her index finger, she circled both his cock and the extra. He sucked in a breath and released it slowly. He’d spill embarrassingly soon.

“Does it have sensation?”

“Yes.”

“And this is nice?” Her touch grew bolder, gripping him and stroking.

“Yes,” he hissed.

“What do you call it?”

“My thorn.” It was the oddest appendage with no obvious purpose, about the size of his thumb and growing an inch above what had previously been a singular dick.

“That’s very poetic.”

“Do you like this?”

He groaned.

“What about this?”

Emma

Emma swallowed his thorn. It wasn’t difficult as it was roughly the size and shape of a thumb, but a deep green, and with ridges and bumps. She ran her tongue over those ridges and bumps, drawing out the sweetest moan from her orc.

Her bottom hand worked his dick, which happened to be roughly the size of a club. Hal was a big man. Everywhere.

His thorn was bony, not made of the same flesh as his penis. She scraped her teeth along the shaft and felt him shudder. It was an odd piece of anatomy, but she loved the way he reacted when she touched him.

She switched to his cock, licking it up and down. This was a two-handed job, one to hold his dick while she circled around the tip with her tongue and the other to stroke his thorn.

Opening wide, she took him as deep as she could until her eyes watered from the effort. His entire body tensed. He grabbed the back of her head, holding her place as his hips bucked up. He moved into her, each stroke gaining speed and desperation.

She relaxed her throat, taking him deeper.

Hal moaned, fingers twisting in her hair, and she felt his member pulse. Salty seed flooded her mouth, too much to swallow.

Emma pulled back, his seed now on her chin and down her chest. She wiped the back of her hand across her lips.

Hal gazed up at her, a smile giving the softest distortion to his lips.

She trailed a finger through the seed on her breasts and gathered up a generous portion. She licked her finger clean.

Hal growled, and then she was on her back. His lips were on hers, her neck, her nipples, her abdomen, and finally, between her thighs.

He spread her open and dove in, claiming her with a fevered hunger.

She tensed at the sensation, then relaxed at the soothing laps of his tongue. His tusks dug into her, adding the tastiest amount of pressure. His tongue explored her, circled her pearl, and drove her to the heights of pleasure.

“Oh, yes. Yes, Hal!”

Her body trembled and quaked. She clutched at him, holding onto his braid like it was a lifeline as pleasure crested.

He didn’t stop, didn’t let her float in bliss, but drove her back to the point again. His tongue was in her, spearing her. Then his fingers, working her open. Stretching her. One, then two.

He leaned over her, one hand holding her to him and the other pumping into her. His eyes burned as he watched her crest once more.

Emma cried out, the breathless rapture breaking over her.

He stilled, watching her tremble and shake. “Did I hurt you? Was I too hard?”

She reached for her, pulling his face down to hers, and kissed him softly. “You are marvelous. Was I satisfactory?”

He growled, pulling her into a tight embrace. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, smiling. “You are miraculous.”