Page 18

Ruugar

“ I ’ll sleep by the fire,” I said. “You can have the tent.”

“Oh, no, you can’t do that.” She slapped the third mosquito to nibble on her neck. “If you lay by the fire, you’ll be covered with bites by morning.”

“And you won’t?”

I shrugged. “Mosquitoes like me. There’ll be no avoiding bites for me even if I slept inside a house.” Her gaze scanned the area. “I can sleep inside the cooking gazebo, then. It’s screened. Are there more sleeping bags or blankets inside the shed?”

“There’s only one orc-sized sleeping bag. You’ll take the tent,” I said with a growl. “I insist.”

“And what, you’ll lay on the ground? No way.”

“Yes way,” I growled.

She frowned and continued to study the tent and sleeping bag before she lifted her gaze to meet mine. “We could share. ”

“What?” I barked.

“We could share. I mean…” She gulped. “Maybe not both of us inside the sleeping bag, but we can share the tent. It looks big enough for two. We could lay the sleeping bag over us both.”

Sleep beside Beth? I couldn’t.

“ I insist,” she said. “I’m sure there will be a helper’s tent at the next stop. It’s just for a few nights.”

Her words rattled around in my skull. Share the tent. Sleep beside her. Impossible. Dangerous.

Perfect.

Beth rubbed her arms. It was cooling off already and there was a breeze.

I ripped off my vest and wrapped it around her.

Color rose in her face, and she peeked up at me through her very long eyelashes. “Thank you. It’s chilly. But I shouldn’t take it. That leaves you…almost naked.”

“I’m still wearing pants. Orcs are naturally warmer blooded. Keep the vest.” I’d collect it later and try not to see if I could pick up her scent from the fabric. “I should’ve bought you warmer clothing.”

“I’ll be fine. Truly.” Her attention fell on the tent again. “It’s just sleeping, Ruugar. I don’t mind if you’re inside the tent with me.”

Did she not realize how much I minded? My hands twitched at my sides, and I was unsure what to do with the feelings pounding through me.

She could've agreed to take the tent for herself, and I would have given it.

She could've complained about the rough ground, the simple bathing and cooking facilities, the bugs she kept brushing away. Instead, all she did was offer to share. She didn’t seem to understand why that was a problem.

“I won’t take up much space.” Her frown joined mine. “Truly. It's not a big deal. I’ll stay on my side of the tent.”

That was the issue. She had a side. I had a side. But I wanted no sides between us.

Fool. She wasn’t mine. Not ever.

Realizing I was standing in front of her like a rock instead of making myself useful, I cleared my throat. “It won’t be comfortable.”

“It’ll be better than sleeping outside with the bugs.”

That was true. Her soft skin would welt from the bites. She wasn’t made for this kind of life. A gold bracelet still circled her wrist, a small reminder of the fancy life she’d left behind.

The thought of her regretting this, regretting coming this close to my world, made my stomach twist.

But I couldn’t resist. Damn me, but I could not insist I’d sleep by the fire.

I hefted the tent and the sleeping bag. “Alright. I'll set it up.”

“I'll help.” She skipped along beside me as I strode toward a smooth area near the woods.

“You don't need to. You can sit in the cooking gazebo. Rest. Get away from the bugs.”

“I want to learn.” She sent me a smile that made my tusks ache. “That's my role here.” She deepened her voice. “I'm Ben, the helper. Nice to meetcha.”

I adored her so much .

I carried everything over to a smooth, shady spot beneath a broad tree that would keep much of the rain away if the sky opened up and poured. Such an odd thing, rain. We didn't have anything like it in the orc kingdom and needed to irrigate our crops. Dew only went so far.

I was too aware of how quietly she moved and the intent way she studied everything—even me. It made me fumble, nearly dropping the tent bag and tripping over a rock I would've seen on any other day. After dumping the tent out of the bag, I located the smaller sack of stakes and set them aside.

“Have you put a tent up before?” I asked, desperate to say anything, not just kneel in front of her like I was ready to claim her in the ancient orc way. Her hands were so close. I could easily conduct the orc mating ritual, the initial claiming. Tell her what she’d one day mean to me.

Except I didn't dare do anything like that. I was into this and her too much already. My heart would break if I claimed her even in this simple way and she left me. Which she would. Once we were sure she'd be safe, she wouldn't want to stay in Lonesome Creek, let alone near me.

“I haven't,” she said with a slow grin. “I love that I'm learning all sorts of new skills.”

She almost sounded excited, and that stunned me. She should be making the best of a difficult situation, not joining in like this was fun. Yet she was.

“Let me show you.” I laid the tent out flat on the smooth ground and handed her the bag of stakes.

“We need to hook one through each loop.” I showed her how to find them along the edges of the tent.

“And secure them to the ground. We'll feed the poles through the sleeves after and use them to lift the structure.” I pointed to those running along the upper part of the tent.

“Cool.”

Beth remained beside me as I hammered the stakes into the earth. The air was cooler beneath the shade of the stand of trees, and the rustling leaves filtered light over her face.

She took the hammer from me and secured some of the stakes herself. By then, dirt smudged one of her cheeks where she’d swiped at it, her skin was flushed from the activity, and I’d never seen anyone more perfect in my life.

She still wore my vest. It was comically huge on her, reminding me of how much bigger than her I was. I’d crush her if I laid on top of her. Impale her if I shoved my cock…

I needed to not think about doing anything to Beth with my cock.

I forced my focus back to the task, ensuring the canvas was tight and securing the last of the ties. There. It wasn’t much, just a simple tent, barely more than a shelter, but it would keep her dry. Keep her warm. Keep her close.

Close to me . I wasn't going to think about that part yet.

We slid the poles through the sleeves and secured them to the base. Then lifted the tent and tied off the poles to keep them from dislodging in a stiff wind. She even helped me attach the rain shield, though the weather hadn’t predicted any yet.

After putting the empty stake bag away, I straightened and brushed my hands off on my pants.

“It looks great.” She actually gazed at the tent in admiration as if it was something nice. Worthy of a female like her. But was it really? This was nowhere good enough for someone who was raised like she had been. I just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t pointing that out.

“That should do it.” I didn't like how my voice croaked, but I internally shrugged it away. Tugging open the flap, I stepped aside, waving her in. “See what you think.”

Beth hesitated long enough for me to wonder if she was having second thoughts. Then she dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled inside, dragging the sleeping bag in behind her, something I should've done for her.

I shouldn’t have watched her ass as she wiggled her way in. And I shouldn’t have followed her inside so quickly.

Too late.

The moment I crawled in after her, the walls of the small space pressed around us, making my every inhalation a challenge.

She was right in front of me, wiggling around as she spread out the unzipped bag that took up all of the inside surface.

That was also going to be a problem I wasn't going to think about yet .

Something low in my belly twisted. I had no name for it, only that it burned. What if… I shook my head, unwilling to consider that she might not mind this as much as I’d assumed.

Her gold bracelet caught the last streaks of sunlight, glinting like a reminder of everything she was. A woman who wore expensive clothing and lived among finery, in a world where evenings were spent in exclusive rooms, not beneath a scrap of fabric pitched on uneven ground.

she seemed to find all this acceptable. Not that this meant she’d ever choose me. Yet she sat back on her heels and smiled at the tent like it was worth something. And when she looked at me, her smile held true. Like I was worth something.

Damn she looked amazing wearing my vest.

Our knees nearly touched in the narrow space. The tent was small, trapping her scent inside with me, sweet and intoxicating, like flowers or an expensive perfume. Her warmth filled the air, mixing with the scent of sun and fresh grass.

I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore all of it, trying to remind myself that she deserved better than rough canvas, softer places to sleep than the ground beside a male who’d spend his life covered in dirt and sorhox sweat. Even if she didn’t seem to mind so far.

I cursed the space for being so tight. Or maybe I cursed myself for wanting it to be tighter.

She licked her lips, a quick flick of her tongue, but it caught my gaze, and I could not look away.

That simple motion nearly undid me. She didn’t belong here.

Not lying on the ground beside an orc who had nothing to offer.

Not with a male whose hands were made for calluses and rope, not rings and whispered promises.

I needed to look away. I needed to bury this feeling, kill the aching in my chest before it grew into something I couldn’t control.

What would her mouth feel like beneath mine? I couldn't imagine how wonderful it would be if she was pressing her body against me, wanting me.

I pretended to adjust the sleeping bag that had already been smoothed out, hoping she wouldn’t hear how rough my breathing was or see how my cock was responding to her being so close I could touch her, something I didn't dare do, not even in my wildest dreams. My coorails spiraling around it buzzed, as eager as me to be inside her.

Silence stretched between us.

She continued to watch me, and I had no idea what to say or do. It felt like the heat of a fire burned too close, licking at the edges of something precious. I wanted to look her way, needed to see. Would there be longing in her eyes or was I fooling myself?

I dared a glance.

Her lips parted as if she might speak, but no sound came out.

A question hung between us, but I didn’t have an answer. Didn’t know if I was allowed to have one. So I cleared my throat, shifting a bit to the side.

“It’s not much.” I gestured vaguely at the tent. “I’m sure you’re used to?— ”

“It’s perfect.”

I wanted to believe she meant more than just the tent, but even if she didn’t mind all this and might even find fun in roughing it, she was still leaving soon. Hoping for more would only make it worse when she was gone.

Only one pillow.

I swallowed hard. “You take it.” I nudged it toward her.

She glanced at it but didn’t pick it up. “We can share.”

May the fates help me.

“There’s not enough room,” I said, because it was true. The tent barely fit the sleeping bag, and while she was small, I was not. “I can?—”

“No.” Her hands settled firmly on her thighs, her knuckles whitening as she made fists. Was she nervous or frustrated? She still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“I don’t want you sleeping outside with the bugs,” she said.

Maybe she wasn’t worried about herself at all. Maybe she was worried about me . The thought made a wild, feral thing bloom inside my chest, but I shoved it down before it could take root. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

“I am.” The tension in her shoulders remained.

It was hard to feel beholden to someone else, as if you had no control over anything in your life.

She didn't know where she'd live a week from now, or how.

I wanted to tell her I would take care of her, but that would only thrust more obligations on her.

If she stayed, a silly thought on my part, it would be because she wanted it as much as me, not because she had no other choice.

“If you’d rather I sleep outside, I won’t take offense,” I said softly, maybe so softly she didn't even hear.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide, and this time, she did meet my gaze. “That’s not—” Her lips pressed together like she regretted even starting. She exhaled, shaking her head. “It’s fine, Ruugar. Really. It’s just sleep.”

Just sleep. Sure.

I clenched my jaw, nodding before shifting onto my knees, ready to crawl out of the tent before I embarrassed myself further. Beth did the same. We moved at the same moment.

Her head impacted with my chest, knocking me off-balance. My arm slipped across the smooth tent fabric. We fell, getting tangled in the sleeping blanket. In a wild moment, I was on my back, the breath gone from my lungs.

Beth lay on top of me.

I could not breathe, and it had nothing to do with the woman sprawled across my chest.

She was pressed against me from hip bone to throat, her palms cupping my shoulders as if she was going to push me away. Only she didn’t move. She didn’t push. Her lips parted, and her breath brushed my cheek.

I went utterly still. Not breathing. Not thinking. Only feeling. Everywhere we touched burned.

If I focused too hard, I could memorize the weight of her, the softness, how perfectly she fit against me in a way that should not feel this right.

Her eyes locked on mine. Emotions flickered there, warmth and something dangerous. Something I wanted more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. I didn’t dare believe it. Didn’t dare hope.

She didn't scramble off me. Her face didn't twist with dismay. She actually leaned closer.

Damn her. Damn me. I should push her away, should get up, should put space between us before this turned into another regret I’d have to carry. But I didn’t move off her. For all the ways I tried to tell myself she wouldn’t want this, couldn’t want this, she hadn’t shifted back.

Hope was a dangerous thing.

And when she leaned in, when her lips brushed against mine like the lightest breeze, I felt as if I’d spent my whole life waiting for something I was never meant to have.

I forgot… everything.

Her mouth pressed harder, truly kissing me.