Page 9 of War Mage (The War Brides of Adrik #4)

Adara

I t’s nighttime when I see Urim again, taking our evening meal in the captain’s quarters, where we are staying as honored guests. Captain Ruthford opted to eat with the crew, so after a cabin boy served us our meal, we are alone in the room, which sways softly as the ship pushes through the surf.

We eat a simple meal of stew made from salted pork and potatoes, with a side of pickled vegetables. Standard fare for an Adrikian ship of this size, though it is obvious the captain holds us and our mission in some regard, as we were also given a whole bottle of wine for our meal, though Urim has abstained from drinking it and I have only sipped at mine.

We eat in total silence and ignore each other as I also take the time to study the map of the Onyx Palace that Urim got for me. I chew my stew as I carefully measure the throne room to the outer gate. It’s not a straight shot out of the palace, more of a meandering pathway. To get out, I’d need to walk in a curved pattern in the void.

“Five steps down,” I mutter under my breath, as I make the calculations. “Two steps left, four steps down, one step right.”

“What was that?” asks Urim, breaking into the quiet.

“That’s the pattern I’d need to walk, according to your map to get us out of the palace and past the outer gate,” I tell him. “If the map is accurate.”

“Ah,” the orc responds, then says no more.

Things are awkward and tense between us after our exchange earlier. I don’t know how I feel about what transpired. Should I be angry and disgusted that Urim still wants my body and submission? Even though, ostensibly, that was supposed to be a one-time occurrence to counter the pain of the mating bite? Should I feel powerful, since this hulking, emotionless orc wants me? I suppose there is power in it, the ability to affect him, even though he obviously is trying to hide that effect.

Mostly, though, I’m just confused, both at the orc and myself. Just because he wants to give me sexually-charged correction doesn’t mean that I should want that. It is something I have explored with other bed partners, those games of pleasure, to varying degrees of success, but I have never experienced chemistry like I did that night with Urim. Something woke in me in that cell at High Citadel. A need to challenge and be corrected. To be forced into willing submission. It gave me a release like I have never experienced before and, in the secrecy of my deepest emotions, I want to experience that again.

But I don’t trust the orc in front of me enough to tell him that, to have that conversation. And he certainly doesn’t trust me enough to admit his own dark urges, even if I have felt them through our bond. At least not sober. However, I’m feeling reckless this night, probably spurred by our dangerous mission and looming deaths. So I roll the map up and stow it away, then pop off the cork of the bottle of wine and top off my goblet and then fill his empty one to the brim.

Urim frowns at me, though his emotions remain steady in the bond. “I do not indulge in alcohol,” he tells me.

“Well, tonight you do,” I retort. “We’re playing a game.”

His face stays impervious, but I can tell that I’ve surprised him. “A game? What game?”

“Drunk Man’s Truth,” I say with a grin. “You get to ask me whatever question you want and if I don’t want to answer it I must take a healthy swallow of wine. Then I can do the same to you. If I answer truthfully, you must drink and vice versa. If you don’t want to get drunk, you must be honest and ask questions that the other doesn’t want to answer. Those are the rules.”

“This seems like a bad idea,” the orc says.

“I think it’s a great idea,” I emphasize. “We don’t know each other. We don’t like each other. We don’t trust each other. Yet we are about to be alone in enemy territory with just each other to rely on? Explain to me how that makes sense, but us getting to know each other through a game is a bad idea.”

Urim looks at me impassively, digesting my words. He’s obviously weighing the positives and negatives and I can see the moment that I win. He sighs. “Your point has merit. But we could get to know each other without the wine.”

“But it would be far less fun,” I say gleefully. “I get to go first, since the game was my idea.”

The orc doesn’t argue with me, just gestures his hand forward to indicate for me to continue, though he watches me with wary eyes.

I want to ask him about that night in High Citadel. What happened between us and why he left so quickly afterward, but neither of us are drunk enough for that yet. So, instead, I ask, “How are you keeping your emotions so calm all the time in the bond? I hardly ever know what you are truly thinking.”

Urim tilts his head to the side, as if deciding whether or not to answer, and then says, “I have trained extensively for many years to master my emotions. Emotional reactions do not serve me. Calm, logical responses are superior in every way.”

“Emotions like fear and anger I could understand, but joy? Pleasure? Triumph?” I challenge. “You don’t wish to feel those either?”

“I have already answered your question honestly,” he returns evenly. “I believe you must drink.”

I grumble, but that is the rules of the game, so I take a swallow. What a waste of a question.

“My turn,” Urim says. “Who is Cara?”

My blood runs cold. “Where did you hear that name?”

“You gave it to me as a false name when I first interrogated you,” he replies.

“Then how do you know it’s a real person?” I shoot back. “It could have just been a random name.”

“Is it?” Urim raises a brow, now being the one challenging me.

I eye my wine goblet again. I could just drink and avoid the question, but I’m already well ahead of him in drinks, with my swallow just now and my sips during dinner earlier, and I don’t want to be the only one in my cups.

“She was my best friend,” I finally tell him, glaring. “And she’s dead now.”

“You forget that I can smell half truths,” the orc remarks calmly. “If you want me to drink, you’ll have to tell the whole story.”

I groan. “Playing this game with an orc was a mistake.”

“You are the one who started it, not I,” Urim replies.

“Fine,” I snap. “Cara was also my casual lover, on occasion. Shocked?”

“Why would that shock me?” The orc sounds genuinely confused. “You told me before that you had casual sexual relationships.”

“Same sex relationships are not common in Adrik,” I tell him. “At least not open and acknowledged.”

“Strange,” Urim says, frowning. “Is it forbidden?”

“Not forbidden,” I respond, “but marriage is seen as a move for more power and property. Power and property can only be solidified with a blood heir. Same gender relationships cannot provide that, so they are usually kept on the side as a lover, but not as the acknowledged, official partner.”

Urim tilts his head, considering. “It is not the same in Orik at all. Orcs cannot have children with each other, no matter the gender. If one wants children they must mate outside our species. But it is not uncommon for an orc to mate another, of either sex, forgoing blood children. They can always adopt a clan orphan and bequeath them their lands and holdings, if that is desired.”

“What about titles and positions?”

“Orik is a meritocracy,” the orc tells me. “Lineage may help put you in a better position to acquire a title or prestige, but you can be challenged and lose it just as easily if you are not strong enough to hold onto that position with the strength of your own arm. Whether you are a blood heir or adopted, it doesn’t matter. What matters is your own skill and merit.”

This fascinates me. “The Tower was much the same,” I comment. “There were mages there who had long magical lineages, with family legacies at the Tower, and were in favorable positions because of that, but if their magic was weaker than another’s they would lose out to them. Magical power was the ultimate determiner and could not be argued with.”

“If that is the case, could you not have been public with your relationship with Cara? You are a powerful mage, you could have made your own rules,” asks Urim.

“Oh, our relationship was no secret,” I say. “But neither of us wanted to commit to the other. We were best friends, but a romantic relationship between us would have been a disaster. We both had needs that we couldn’t fill in the other. Compatible enough for occasional dalliances, when we needed a release to lower stress or clear the mind, but not for anything lasting.”

“What needs?” Urim asks, and though his voice is still even-toned, there is a darker, hungrier edge to his words.

“That’s a new question,” I retort. “And I fully answered yours already, so you must drink.”

Urim acknowledges my words by grabbing his goblet, taking a swallow, though his eyes never leave mine. The air between us is charged again and an anticipatory energy hovers in the bond between us.

I clear my throat. “My turn. What is something about your past that you would not want me to know?”

The stoic orc frowns. “That is not a simple question.”

“Are you going to drink then?” I taunt. The alcohol I have already imbibed buzzes pleasantly through my system and is making me relaxed and loosening my tongue. It makes me want to challenge and needle him until his stoic demeanor breaks again, like it did that night in the cell.

His eyes narrow the tiniest fraction at my taunt, then he says. “I will answer your question, but it is not easy. There is much that I would not want you to know about me. Narrowing it to one thing is not easy.”

“Just say the first thing that comes to mind then. The thing you would most not want me to know.”

“Hmm,” he says, considering. The space of a few breaths passes and I almost think that he will drink instead of answer, but then he finally says, “I am humanborn. That means that my non-orc parent was a human.”

“Which parent was it?” I ask.

“My father. He left when I was a babe, leaving my mother and me to fend for ourselves and my mother to suffer the wasting sickness of a failed bond. She held off longer than most, fighting to be able to raise me, but eventually she succumbed and left me alone.”

“Why is that something you wouldn’t want me to know?” I ask confused. It seems innocuous enough.

“Truly, I don’t want you to know anything about me,” he admits in that same even tone of his. “But your point about us needing to foster some sort of trust before we get to Barakrin is a good one. We cannot remain adversaries and expect to succeed. Now, drink.”

I grumble again as I take a swallow of wine, almost emptying my cup. He keeps getting away with giving the blandest answers to my questions and even if they are the truth it’s not in the spirit of the game. I’ll just need to think of better questions, I suppose, so that he’s forced to answer something juicy.

“Alright,” he says, as I finish my swallow. “My question: What will you do if you survive this mission and gain your clemency and the sovereignty of the Mage’s Tower?”

“That’s easy,” I respond. “Return to the Tower and help rebuild it after our numbers were decimated during the war. Foster its new freedom and seek after advantageous alliances. After severing our soultie, of course.”

Urim stiffens a little at the mention of our soultie, though I don’t know why. His emotions in the bond remain placid and unaffected as ever, so there’s no clue there.

Ignoring his strange reaction for now, I say, “Now drink!”

He obligingly takes a swallow and I eagerly ask my next question. “Have you ever wanted to find your father, now that you’ve lost your mother?”

Our bond spikes for a moment with a cold, murderous feeling shocking me, before smoothing back into calm. The orc answers, “I have never told anyone else this, but . . .”

“What is it?” I ask breathlessly, wanting to understand what just happened.

The orc takes a breath, then continues, “I have been searching for my father for my whole adult life, using my faint memories and my network to find him. I have yet to be successful, but I will not give up.”

“So that you can reunite?” I guess.

“So that I can kill him,” he says bluntly, shocking me again. “My mother died because of him and that is a sin that he can never be forgiven for. That I will never forgive him for.”

So it’s vengeance he’s after. I suppose I can understand that. “What if he’s already dead?” I ask. “What if there’s no vengeance to take?”

“Then I will spit on his grave,” he says, “and know that the gods exacted justice for me.”

I consider his admission and then smile sharply at him. “You know, that actually makes me like you better. You aren’t the heartless golem that you pretend to be. You have feelings like the rest of us.”

“I never claimed to not have feelings,” he replies. “Just that I am not beholden to them. I feel what I want and reject the rest.”

“No one is that good at controlling their emotions,” I argue. “We all reach a breaking point sometimes.”

“Like when you tried to kill Queen Adalind and burn down Undrian Forest?” Urim asks. “That was an emotional decision and not wise.”

“I never claimed to be wise,” I retort, echoing his words from before. “And I think we both know that you are not as buttoned up as you would like to be, are you, commander? ”

Urim stiffens again, going totally still, but I feel that dark longing in the bond again at my jibe.

“This is dangerous ground that you walk on, Adara,” he says evenly, even as there is an edge of warning in his voice.

“Why?” I provoke. “Do you want to do something about it? If you want me to stop, make me .”

My challenge hangs in the air between us, a blatant invitation.

“This is not wise,” he finally replies.

“It’s been established that I am not wise,” I retort, rising from my seat and prowling around the table. “And I think you actually want to be foolish with me. At least one more time.”

With those words I climb onto his lap, straddling his massive, muscular thighs. He stays still, his eyelids going heavy and assessing.

“What are you doing Adara?” he asks, but I feel his interest through our bond, which he immediately tries to hide, but I know that it was there.

“Teasing you,” I reply, my hands coming up to loosen the stays of my kirtle. “Tempting you.” When the stays are loose, I part the plackets and then pull my underdress down so that my breasts are bare. “Seeing just how far that control of yours goes.”

“I could sate us both and never lose one ounce of control,” he claims arrogantly.

“Then prove it, commander ,” I say leaning forward, so that my breasts hover just above his mouth.

Urim regards me and I feel more of his dark longing. He wants to take me up on what I’m offering, strongly enough that he can’t even disguise it under the veneer of calm, emotionless logic that he always projects. Finally he asks, “What boundaries do you have to these games? How far can I take you?”

Triumph skitters through my veins, and lust spikes in my core. “No kissing,” I reiterate, like I said a week ago. “But other than that, I’m willing to go as far as you like.”

“Right,” he responds slowly. “Kissing is for lovers, you said. And this . . . is merely a sating of appetites.”

“Taking the edge off before we head into danger,” I agree. “We all need some relief sometimes, right?”

His lips firm into an impassive line, but he says, “Indeed. So, you are up for anything else? Spanking?”

“Yes,” I breathe out, getting wet at the idea.

“Orgasm control?” he asks.

“What?” I ask, not sure I heard him right.

“You would not come until I give permission,” he explains, as blandly as if discussing the taste of our meal. “Holding off orgasms can make them more intense, if you know how to time them . . . which I do.”

“Then yes,” I answer boldly. I don’t know if I actually could hold off orgasming, but I'm intrigued enough to try.

“Penetration?” he questions next.

My pussy clenches at the thought. It’s been so long since I’ve been filled and I’m suddenly feeling desperate for it. “Gods, yes. Can we start now or do you need to ask a hundred more questions?”

“Hellion,” he remarks, but there’s no real censure in his voice.

“You like me being a hellion,” I return. “You like correcting me.”

His eyelids hood again, and he doesn’t answer me, but I know I’m right.

“One last question,” he says, ignoring my words. “Do you have a contraception charm?”

I almost moan at the question as that must mean that he truly means to fuck me and I need that. I also understand why he is asking; I’m his mate, even if just in name only. He’s definitely able to get me pregnant and that’s the last complication we need on a mission like the one we are undertaking. “I received the Blessing of the Barren by the priestesses of Kethia at the beginning of the year,” I tell him. “It should be good for at least another month.”

He nods at that, obviously having heard of the blessing before. It’s an expensive ritual, but the priestesses of the love goddess Kethia can bind a woman’s courses and make it impossible for her to get pregnant. I’ve gotten it done every year since I reached adulthood and had the coin to pay for it, as my courses are heavy and painful, but the added benefit of avoiding pregnancy is a bonus that I have definitely taken advantage of in the past.

Urim asks no more questions after my response, but that purring hum he calls his sibilance begins in his throat, washing over me and I shudder in pleasure as my sensitivity increases. My pussy gets wetter and I squirm a little on his lap, my back arching and pushing my breasts even closer to his mouth.

“Put your arms above your head and keep them there,” he orders, his voice thick with his thrum. “Do not bring them down until I tell you.”

“Why should I?” I question saucily.

“Because I will give you no pleasure until your arms are above your head,” he returns calmly, though I can see him eye my chest with what could be interest and can feel that dark longing in our bond. “And will stop the moment you disobey me.”

Pouting, I put my arms up, grabbing my elbows with my hands so that my arms are supported over my head. When they are up and still, Urim nods in approval.

“Good female,” he growls and then his lips are on my left nipple, sucking and laving the sensitive nub with a strong, vibrating tongue. I gasp and jerk at the sudden sensation, but I keep my arms up as he bade. His hands come up and grab my rump, pulling me closer to him so that the join between my legs rubs on his thigh, sending a skittering of pleasure running through my body. It feels good and I begin to buck my hips to increase the sensation, trying to add friction to my swollen clit. But his hands firm on my bottom, holding me still as he feasts on my breasts

I whine and try to move again, but his grip is iron and I can’t get enough movement to give me any sort of satisfaction.

“Behave, hellion,” Urim remarks, before licking my nipple one more time, then switching to the other.

“I am behaving,” I retort. “My arms are above my head, what more could you want?”

“You are trying to come before I am ready for you to do so,” he replies coolly. “And you will climax when I want you to or not at all.”

“Bastard,” I spit out, frustrated.

He stops his ministrations and cocks his head curiously. “That is not what you are to call me.”

I firm my lips together, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. But the insufferable orc sighs and leans back in his chair. “Then I guess we're done here.”

“Fine!” I burst out desperately. I don’t want him to stop. “ Commander. ”

“Good female,” he approves, then moves back to my breasts. His tongue is magic there. I have never been particularly fond of breast play, having found more pleasure in other things, but with his s ibilance playing in the air, his vibrating tongue, and the unpredictability of his moves, I am feeling close to an orgasm, something I have never experienced though playing with my breasts alone. I gasp and sigh and mewl in pleasure, euphoric little lightning shocks dancing through my veins. I want to grab his head and pull it closer, keep him where he is as I ride closer and closer to climax, but through a great exercise of will I keep my hands above my head, knowing he’ll stop if I disobey. And I’m so, so close to my peak. I chase the sensation, but almost like he can read my mind, right when I’m about to come, Urim stops his attentions on my breasts, keeping me right on the edge.

I let out a frustrated groan. “Let me come!” I try to demand, but it sounds suspiciously like a plea.

“Patience makes the fruit of pleasure sweeter,” the orc comments, before taking his hands and moving my hips so that my clit is rubbing against his thigh again. I gasp at the sudden movement, my climax nearing again, but then when I’m about to crest the peak he stops again and moves back to my breasts. Again and again, he takes me almost to the point of climax, only to stop when I’m about to finally achieve satisfaction.

I feel like a raw bundle of nerves, my arms shaking with the effort it takes to keep them above my head, my body wound tight with frustrated anticipation.

“This is too much!” I gasp out. “Let me come!”

“If it ever is too much and you want me to stop, merely say, ‘surrender’ and I’ll stop immediately,” he says. “But I think you can take more.”

Bastard . He knows that I'll never say “surrender.” Not to him , at any rate. But I want to come, every muscle in my body wound tight and begging for release.

“Please, commander,” I finally beg breathlessly, not caring about my pride, “let me come.”

Urim’s eyes darken as I call him commander , my secret weapon to taunt him past the edge of his control. When I’m challenging and defying him, he can deny me all night, but when I finally break down and beg him sweetly, submitting to him, he has no defense against that.

I feel his hands leave my hips, going to the buckle at his warkilt. Yes. Yes! I almost sob with relief as he takes his cock out. It looks like a human’s, albeit green and larger than any of my past male bed partner’s cocks I’ve ever seen. It looks like it’ll feel so good, especially worked up the way that I am.

“Is this what you want, hellion?” Urim asks, though there’s no insult in his voice.

“Yes, commander,” I respond, my pussy getting even more slick as I look at his malehood.

“Then you may ride it,” he says, like he's doing me a favor. “But remember, do not come until I tell you that you may.”

I have no idea how I’m going to keep from coming. I’m so close to the edge that I feel like I’ll come if I get the slightest bit of friction. But I suppose I better try.

I attempt to shift on his lap so that my pussy is over his cock, but it’s difficult to maneuver with my arms above my head. After shuffling a bit and failing to get into position, I glance desperately at Urim, who just returns my gaze with a heavy lidded, unreadable look of his own.

“Please help me, commander,” I beg. “I can’t get into position without my arms.”

“Well, since you asked so prettily . . .” the orc returns, “you may take your arms down.”

I sigh in relief, taking my arms down and bracing them on his expansive chest. Once I’m steady, I slowly lower myself onto his ready hardness. I moan out loud, his cock splitting me open, filling me deliciously and pressing on all my sweet spots. Just like his tongue, it vibrates inside me. It takes me right back to the edge of climax and I can feel my senses teetering toward the peak.

“I’m going to come,” I groan.

“Not yet,” orders Urim firmly.

“I can’t help it,” I whine. “I don’t know how to stop it!”

“Picture the pleasure getting heavy,” the orc replies, his voice calm and hypnotic. “Picture it solidifying into a ball you can hold and keep from breaking.

I moan again, but I do as he says, picturing the feelings within me getting heavy and solid. My climax holds off, held at bay by the image, but a strange almost-euphoria spreads through my body, all the way down to the ends of my limbs, my whole body becoming an erogenous zone for the moment. A startled cry of confused pleasure spills over my lips and I feel a sense of satisfied amusement in our bond from Urim.

“Good, isn’t it?” he asks. “Now, ride me and keep your climax at bay. I’ll tell you when to release it.”

With great effort, I start to thrust my hips, riding his hard cock like a mount, twisting and flexing so that he hits my sweet spots as I go up and down. All the while, I hold onto the image of my heavy climax, holding it down and not letting myself sail over the peak of my pleasure, but it gets more and more difficult the more that I move. Soon I’m whining and gasping, barely coherent as pleasure so sharp it’s almost painful overtakes my senses, unable to think of anything but release.

Just when it seems like it’ll be too much and I won’t be able to hang on any longer, Urim growls out, “Now, hellion. Come for your commander.”

With something like a relieved sob, I let go, letting myself fly with euphoria as I orgasm. It is like I’m being shattered and remade all at once, it’s so intense. I’ve never experienced a climax as forceful as this, my mind almost whiting out in sensation.

I fall forward, catching myself on Urim’s chest, heaving heavy breaths. Slowly, I come back to myself and find that I want soothing. After such intensity, I want soft touches, stroking fingers, murmured praise. But nothing is forthcoming. The orc beneath me might as well be a statue for all that he is moving. If I couldn’t hear his steady heartbeat under my ear, I would think that he was a statue.

Slowly, with some difficulty, I lift my head, pulling myself up straight. Urim is looking at me impassively, his face unreadable and unmoving, though his eyes glitter darkly in the low light. What is he thinking? I search our mate bond and come up with that emotionless, calm feeling. But I know that is a mask he puts on his real feelings.

“What are you thinking right now?” I ask boldly, holding his gaze.

Urim doesn’t answer for a bit, before pivoting and asking back, “Are you satisfied? Are your appetites sated now?”

His words are like a slap in the face after the submission that I granted him, the trust that I placed in him. His cock is still inside me, still connecting us, but I have never felt further away from a sentient creature than I feel from him at this moment. A surprising amount of hurt wells up in me, but I quickly smother it under a veneer of indifference. I don’t want him feeling how his words affect me in the bond.

So, instead, I climb off of him, letting my skirt fall and cover the evidence of our tryst and pull my underdress back up over my breasts.

“Yep,” I reply carelessly. “I got mine. You were an adequate partner, orc.”

Urim regards me for a long moment, then he stands, doing up his belt on his warkilt, which is slung low on his hips. “Good. But we should probably not indulge like this again. It’ll complicate matters on the mission.”

“Complicate what matters?” I ask dismissively. “Like you said, this was a sating of appetites and now it's done. There’s no reason for it to happen again.”

The orc just nods at my words, turning away from me so that I can’t see his face. The bond still holds strong with that calmness I am growing to hate. “Goodnight, Adara,” Urim says, his voice totally even, like nothing intense just happened between us. Then, before I can say anything back, he exits the captain's cabin and leaves me alone.

I feel vulnerable and angry as he leaves, but I struggle to push those feelings away so that they won’t travel along the bond. He said that he could sate us both without losing control, so I guess he wasn’t lying, but it feels wrong, like something’s missing from this dynamic. Our compatibility is undeniable, but something is broken between us just the same, even if I can’t put into words what that is.

Urim is right. Best that this never happens again. For my own sanity’s sake.