Page 19

Beth

R uugar didn’t move.

As I lay on his chest, his warmth sunk into me like a brand. His hands rose to hover near my waist, his muscles flexing, as if he was deciding whether to hold me close or shove me away.

Maybe he should push me away. Yet he didn’t do it.

My breath snagged in my throat. His scent, undeniably Ruugar, filled the small space. He was so toasty to lay on. Solid. He made me feel safe in a way that had nothing to do with the tent or the protection I'd found with him at Lonesome Creek.

I slid my hands across his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. If this was the closest I’d ever get to him, I would make it count.

My fingers trembled as I traced over the ridges of his muscles, each defined inch crafted by a master.

Ruugar wasn’t just strong, he was built like a cliff face.

Hard, sturdy, and with just enough unevenness to make him extra appealing.

He was a living, breathing force of nature that made my pulse stutter in response.

Heat pooled deep in my belly, a slow ache unfurling as I imagined what it would feel like if he pulled me against him, if those restrained hands found their way to me willingly.

If he didn’t see me as someone to help, but a woman to hold. To claim.

He made a low sound in his throat.

I'd never wanted anything as much as I wanted him to give in.

He couldn’t look at me the way I saw him. He seemed distant sometimes, always careful, watching me like I was a problem he had to solve. A guest at best, but most likely, a burden. Never as a woman who burned for him, aching for even the smallest touch.

His jaw clenched. His hands twitched, rising again, only to stop before they could touch the back of my waist. He’d never take if I didn’t offer.

Did I dare hint at my feelings? I'd only shared a few stolen kisses, and they were long enough ago, I wasn't sure I remembered what they felt like. I didn’t know how to put myself out there, to make someone aware that I was interested. No time to learn but now, right?

I leaned down and brushed my lips over his in a whisper of contact. Enough to get a taste of what it felt like to kiss Ruugar.

I had no idea if this was the right thing to do, but I didn’t care anymore.

I’d been aching for him in silence, waiting for a sign, for something more than stolen glances and stiff shoulders.

I wanted him. If this went nowhere, if he shoved me away, I needed to know if he’d felt this same unbearable, mounting pull between us.

My breath shuddered out of me as I moved closer, drawn to him like a desperate wish that might disappear if I hesitated too long.

His whole body went rigid beneath mine. Did that mean he’d changed his mind? I wasn’t sure what I’d do if?—

His control snapped. With a rough sound, he rolled, flipping me onto my back so fast my breath left in a gasp. His massive body covered mine, his heat searing through the thin layer of fabric between us.

The earth beneath me was hard, unyielding, but with him above me, I didn’t care.

His lips crashed against mine. There was nothing soft or hesitant about this kiss. It was fire meeting fire.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer, but he was already there, pressing into me as if he was intent on devouring the space between us. His kiss deepened, his tusks brushing my chin, the faintest scrape sending shivers all the way to my toes.

I buried my fingers in his hair.

“Beth,” he said against my mouth, a prayer or a warning. I didn’t want warnings. Didn’t want hesitation.

“Don't stop,” I croaked.

His forehead rested against mine for a second, and I sensed his control was slipping. I could feel it in the way his hand finally settled on my hip while he braced himself above me.

Unless I was reading this completely wrong, he wanted this. Wanted me . Even if he didn't believe he should.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped.

I slid my hands down his chest, feeling every inch of power beneath my palms. “Never.”

His lips claimed mine again, and I sunk into the feeling of being held by Ruugar, the guy I was beginning to adore. Maybe I was falling for him because he’d rescued me, but I didn’t care. As long as he kept kissing me, holding me like I was the most precious thing in the world, I was complete.

Finally, he lifted his head, staring into my eyes before his gaze slid to my mouth.

A groan ripped from his chest, and he levered himself up and off me, easing back, fisting his hands on his thighs. With a growl, he raked a hand through his hair, his breathing rough. “I, um, I…” he muttered.

He leaped toward the entrance, and the tent nearly collapsed as he shoved his way out, the fabric shuddering with the force of his escape. Cool air swept over my skin stealing his warmth, leaving me feeling hollow.

I could still feel the imprint of him, his weight pressing me into the ground, his wild, heated breaths mingling with mine, the raw restraint in his fingers as if holding me had been both agony and necessity.

He had kissed me back, hadn’t he? I hadn’t imagined it.

Had it only been a lapse, a mistake on his part, something he was already regretting?

From the way he’d fled the tent, I’d bet anything this was true. I never should’ve pushed him to kiss me. Lying on the relatively soft sleeping bag, I stared at the tent canvas overhead, willing myself not to cry. I was so foolish. Ruugar had drawn a line between us, and I'd stepped right over it.

The taste of him still lingered on my mouth, and the ghost of his touch scorched my skin.

I hated that I wanted more. It should be enough to know that for one brief, shattering moment that he might've wanted me, too, but it wasn’t.

Sure, he'd kissed me back, but what guy wouldn't? He was overcome with emotion but only until he realized who was lying beneath him, who was kissing him.

Beth. Or Ben . The helper on this excursion. Ruugar's burden until Bradley and my father gave up, and I could return to town and start a new life far from here and them.

With a deep breath, I sat up, rubbing my face, though it didn't stop the sting behind my eyes. What should I do now?

Outside, voices drifted from the river. Ruugar’s deep, rumbling tone mixed with the easy laughter of the others. He was fine. Talking like nothing had happened.

While I was wallowing in pain.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I got to my knees and stuffed my cowboy hat back on my head. I left the tent, forcing myself to walk to the cooking gazebo. If I couldn’t fix my mistake, I could at least make myself useful.

Food sat neatly arranged, waiting for someone to prepare it. Cooking couldn’t be that hard. People did it every day.

Ruugar left the guests at the river and strode this way, pausing to light the firepit without a word. He handed out drinks to the guests who quickly joined him, settling in chairs he set up. Pete adored whiskey, and the trail ride catered to every need, so he had a bottle nearby.

After ensuring they were happy, Ruugar entered the cooking gazebo.

For a long, tense moment, he stood by the open doorway, saying nothing.

Grunting, he strode to the refrigerator and took things out, laying them on the counter.

I remained where I was, staring at the odd-appearing root vegetables, wondering what I could do with them that would resemble a meal.

The air between us crackled, heavy with unspoken words.

He placed a bowl of peeled chumble eggs in front of me. I assumed they were chumble eggs. I'd never seen an egg the size of these before, let alone a green one, but the pink bird we'd seen was huge, at least the size of an ostrich.

“We're serving chumblings first,” he said.

“Do you think you can slice them in half and remove the yolks? Place that in this smaller bowl.” He added that beside the first. “And then mash it with a fork.

I'll get out the ingredients we'll use to make the stuffing, and if you think you can do it, you can stuff them as well. Serve them to our guests.”

His tone was anything but insulting, but did he think I was completely useless ?

“I can do that,” I said so softly, I wasn't sure he'd hear. But he nodded and went to work on what looked like meat.

In a short time, the chumblings were ready, even placed on a pretty platter.

I left the gazebo with them held aloft, and with a fake smile on my face, I joined the guests at the fire.

“Chumblings,” I announced as if I didn't have a care in the world. “They’re kind of like deviled eggs.” Only much larger.

And green. Despite the fact that my world was falling apart, my smile held true.

The guests were still laughing when I set the platter down on the table in front of them. They barely noticed me, too caught up in each other. My stomach twisted as I returned to the cooking area.

Ruugar didn’t look at me. “I'm making lizardloin burgers. The grill’s outside.”

“And the vegetables?” I pointed to them still lying on the counter.

“It’s cragroot.” he said. “A staple in the orc kingdom that vaguely resembles your potatoes. After I peel and chop them, I'll wrap them in this shiny silver stuff.” He held up a box of aluminum foil. “It doesn't burn for whatever reason.”

“It's metal,” I said, still no louder than before.

“Yes, that. I'll roast them on the grill with oil. Spices.” He waved to containers sitting on a shelf nearby. “Orc spices. They'll enjoy them.”

“I can get them ready if you’d like.”

“You could sit on?—”

“No. I want to help. ”

“Alright.” His neutral expression told me absolutely nothing. “Once the loin burgers are prepared for the grill, I'll make a salad. Humans like those.” He grimaced, suggesting that maybe orcs did not.

Peeling and chopping cragroot didn't require much skill. It was something to focus on. Something that kept my hands from shaking.