Page 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

T he next morning they rode hard for Norhaven, stopping only briefly to rest and water the horses.

The pace was just as frantic as when Khorrek stole Jessamin but she enjoyed the journey a lot more with Ulric’s powerful arms wrapped around her.

The rest had helped—he had regained his color and showed no sign of fever.

He never flagged throughout the long day, but she was half-asleep when he finally called a halt.

“You’re much more willing to rest when your mate is with you,” Wulf teased, but Ulric’s response was lost in a yawn.

They camped in a hidden vale surrounded by thick trees, with a stream nearby. As the orcs built a fire and set up camp, she slipped away to the stream to bathe. The water was freezing, but after a day in the saddle, it was a relief to scrub away the dirt and sweat.

A faint splash alerted her to another presence. She turned to find Ulric wading into the stream, the moonlight painting his skin in shades of silver and shadow.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, his hands sliding over her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest.

She relaxed into his touch, letting him lather soap into her hair.

His fingers were deft and gentle, working the suds into her scalp with soothing circles.

She let out a sigh of contentment. For a moment, they were in their own world, untouched by the madness that awaited them outside this small refuge.

When her hair was clean, he guided her to lean back in the water, letting it rinse away the sobs. He was so careful with her, treating her like the most precious treasure.

Once she was clean, she turned in his arms, intending to reciprocate, but he held her fast. “You need to rest,” he chided. “You’re exhausted.”

“So are you,” she countered. “Let me take care of you.”

“I will always take care of you.” The intensity in his voice made her heart skip a beat.

“And I want you to. But I want to take care of you as well.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Very well. You may wash my hair if it pleases you, my queen.”

She laughed, the sound echoing in the stillness. “It does please me.”

He sank down in the shallow stream, the water swirling around his waist. She scooped up a handful and let it cascade over the long black and silver strands. When his hair was wet, she massaged in the soap, taking her time, enjoying the feel of his hair sliding between her fingers.

His eyes closed, a look of blissful relaxation on his face. She worked the suds from his scalp to the ends of his hair, then let the current of the stream wash it all away.

When his hair was clean, she pressed a kiss to his temple. “There. Now let’s dry off before we freeze.”

They climbed from the stream and she helped him dry off, admiring the play of muscle under his green skin.

He was so strong, so powerful, and yet he’d let her care for him without complaint.

Of course, he also insisted on drying her, and by the time he’d finished rubbing her body with the rough linen cloth, she was no longer cold.

Heat pooled low in her belly, an aching need building within her.

His eyes darkened as he watched her nipples pebble under his touch. “You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

“So are you,” she said, running her hands over the hard planes of his chest.

“I almost lost you,” he said, his voice rough.

“But you didn’t,” she replied, moving even closer. “You came for me.”

“I will always come for you.”

The words hung between them, heavy with promise, and then he kissed her. The fear and exhaustion of the past days fell away, replaced by a fierce, desperate need to be close to him.

Her hands moved frantically over his body, and he groaned as he lifted her into his arms, the thick ridge of his erection lodged between them.

He cast a quick look in the direction of their camp, the fire visible through the trees, then strode deeper into the woods as she peppered kisses along his jaw and neck.

When they were far enough away that they wouldn’t be overheard, he set her down gently on a bed of moss, his huge body coming down to cover hers.

She moaned as he kissed his way down her chest, his tusks scraping lightly over her skin.

He paused at her breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue and his teeth.

“Ulric,” she whimpered, arching beneath him, her hands tangling in his hair.

He chuckled, the sound muffled against her skin. “So responsive,” he murmured, his hand sliding between her thighs. “Already so wet for me.”

He drove her even higher, stroking her clit and sliding two thick fingers inside her. The heat between them grew, a wildfire that couldn’t be contained. She arched her hips against his hand, seeking more.

His massive cock throbbed against her thigh, and she could feel his body trembling with the effort of restraining himself.

But tonight, she didn’t want restraint. She wanted him to unleash his Beast, to claim her with the primal ferocity that she knew lurked just beneath the surface. She wanted him to lose control.

“Claim me, Ulric,” she whispered. “Make me yours. In all ways.”

He growled, a deep, guttural sound that sent a thrill through her.

He removed his fingers, replacing them with the thick head of his cock.

He pushed inside her slowly, stretching her with every inch.

Her breath left her in a ragged gasp as he filled her completely.

Her body clenched around him, trying to adjust to his girth.

The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure mixed with pain, a perfect storm of sensations.

She dug her fingers into his back, urging him deeper. “More,” she pleaded. “I need all of you.”

He obliged, withdrawing almost completely and then thrusting back inside, harder and deeper than before. Her entire body shook with the force of his movement, but she welcomed it, relished it. This was what she wanted—to be taken, to be possessed, to be his.

His pace increased, each stroke faster, harder than the last. He gripped her hips, tilting her body up to meet his, hitting a spot inside her that made her cry out his name.

He held her there, driving into her relentlessly.

She could feel her orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to consume her.

“Mine,” he growled. “My mate.” His eyes were pure black, his control shattered, his Beast fully unleashed.

“Yes,” she gasped, the word almost lost in her cries. “Yours.”

He surged forward, and the tension within her snapped, her climax ripping through her with an intensity that left her breathless.

She tightened her grip on his shoulders as he continued to thrust, his strokes growing faster, wilder, until with a final, powerful stroke, he buried himself to the hilt.

She felt the first hot pulse of his release and then he was growing, expanding, filling her even more.

Her eyes went wide as the pressure pushed her into a second orgasm even more intense than the first and she clung to him, gasping for breath as his knot locked them together and she felt pulse after pulse of his release inside her.

She was so full she could barely breathe, but she had never felt so complete. This was what it meant to be a mate. To be one. To be bound in body and soul. They lay tangled together, bodies joined, hearts pounding. She could feel the throb of his cock inside her, the stretch of his knot.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured. “Forever.”

She sighed in contentment. “Forever.”