Page 32 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

Iam no witch, wizard, or magical creature, but I swear I can feel Halvard’s pining through the door. His adoration should be off-putting, right? But it isn’t. I wish his longing dampened my body’s desire for the orc, but his dedication is doing the opposite. Big time.

The bath that Aila filled for me was amazing, and I feel almost too refreshed to sleep. I turn over in Aila and Magnus’s ocean-themed guest room for the thousandth time. My body is simply humming with excitement that Halvard is so close and willing. I take a slow, deep breath. The blanket is made of the softest wool, the sheets are smooth and clean-smelling, and the fire crackles from the little hearth. It’s perfect here. Cozy. Ideal for sleep.

But I’m getting exactly zero winks.

All right. I’m going to have to take care of this myself. It’s pathetic. I made this decision: to be done with any type of romance. I should be able to deal with the lack of physical pleasure. After all, I’ve never had a rampant type of libido. Not until the last few days, anyway.

I slide my hand down and ruck up my sleeping shift. Easing my hand between my thighs, I shut my eyes and imagineHalvard lying on top of me, his weight half-propped up on one elbow. His copper eyes flash with want. He drags his tusks down my neck and over my breasts. His tongue flicks out and dances over my nipple. I suck in a breath and press my hand against myself, working my fingers in the way I like, pretending they belong to a very large, very dedicated orc. His fingers would be so much larger. I swallow, and pleasure tingles up and down my body. I’m panting and wishing Halvard’s hips were pressed to mine and that his length was easing into me. I roll a knuckle over my clit and gasp.

There’s a bump at the door.

I freeze.

“Wh-what is it?” I ask, my voice thready.

A shuffling sounds and then Halvard is answering, his voice too low and deep for me to understand.

“What?”

“I said,Do you need some help in there?” Halvard’s tone is unreadable.

Does he know what I’m doing? My face flushes hot as a field in high summer. “No!”

Something that sounds hard scrapes the door from his side.

“What is that?” I ask, my heart beating madly.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry. Good night.”

What is happening out there? It sounded like a rock or a nail being scraped along the doorframe. But the sound is gone now, so I return to my imaginings. I can’t possibly go to sleep now anyway. Maybe he heard my gasp or the squeak of the bed. If he had, what would he do? What would have happened if I’d let him in?

I press my fingers into myself and lift my hips against the heel of my hand. My mind shows me Halvard standing outside the door, his head leaning on the oak wood and his hand in his trousers. I imagine another bump on the door, and this time, inmy mind, it’s his hand hitting the wood as he strokes himself. I can imagine his eyes shutting and him whispering my name, can feel the heat of him like he’s a great bonfire warming me from afar. I move faster, my pleasure mounting, and I gasp and don’t have it in me to stifle the sound. I feel so good. So, so good. Images of Halvard breaking apart with his own pleasure invade my head, and I let them drive all other thoughts and worries away. It’s safe with the door between us. He doesn’t know.

My climax shatters me, and I whimper and fall, spent, back onto the bedclothes.

A tiny voice inside my head whispersYou wanted him to know what you were doing.

I set my jaw and shake my head, rolling over. No, of course not. That would be mean to him. If I let him know he arouses me like that, to that degree—that would be wrong of me. It would be leading him on.

He knows anyway,the same little voice says.

Wait. That isn’t a voice in my head. That’s an actual little voice.

I sit up, heart pounding again, and a tiny light zips away from my head and into the rafters. I squint.

It’s a cherub faerie.

The female fairy flits down again and hovers in front of my nose. She’s no bigger than a barley seed. The light of the hearth glows through her semi-transparent form. I’d miss her if I weren’t staring right at her.

“I’ve never seen one of you,” I whisper.

“I’m Fiorella.”

Her fluffy white antennae flicker back and forth as she considers me. Most of her wings, her hair, and her body glimmer like a silver coin. The bottoms of her wings are an iridescent blue-purple with a white stripe. She’s lovely. Annoying, but lovely.

I eye the door, wondering if Halvard is listening, but it’s quiet now. Perhaps he had to visit the kitchen for water or the privy. I refuse to think about whether he needs to tidy himself after…

“Sorry if I scared you.” Fiorella’s voice is so quiet I have to stop breathing to hear it. “But you can’t expect me to ignore a passion like this.” The cherub fairy spins in the air, and sparkles burst from her like she’s a little star. “It’s delicious!”