Her Orc Protector: A Monster Fantasy Romance (Black Bear Clan Book 4)
Her Orc Protector: Chapter 5

Inside the hut, Korr puts more wood on the fire to offset the cold air we’d let in and helps me settle on his sleeping pallet. In the faint orange glow emanating from the stove, I watch him get ready for bed.

Then it occurs to me that he has nowhere else to sleep. There’s very little room on the floor that’s not taken up by the stove and the furniture, and besides, the rough boards are cold, too cold to be comfortable for anyone, even an orc warrior.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I push myself to a seated position and put my sock-clad feet on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Korr demands.

With effort, I shuffle over to the stool and sit heavily on it. “I’ve rested enough for now. You can take the bed, and I’ll wait until later. We can take turns sleeping.”

Korr stares at me for a moment, then lets out a snort. It’s not a laugh, more a sound of derision, and my stomach flips over at the realization that he’s quite content with there being just the one bed.

No.

Surely not…

Not tonight. I can’t fight him off, not after everything that’s happened. I can’t even grit my teeth and bear it, like I’d done so many times with my late husband, who wasn’t a gentle man. The orc is huge, and if his…anatomy is proportionate to the rest of his body, he’d rip me apart.

He sniffs—I don’t see his face, but I hear the deep inhale well enough to know he has closed the distance between us. He crouches in front of me and puts his warm hands on my knees.

I swallow, forcing down the scream that’s building in my throat. Who would hear me if I cried for help? We are miles from civilization.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice urgent. “I will not touch you like that. I swear it on my father’s grave.”

A shiver runs up my back, so I wrap my arms around myself for warmth and lean closer to the stove. Gods, how I wish I could believe him. But the chances that I’d stumbled on the one decent person in all the land who would not take advantage of the situation are slim.

“Come to bed, little witch,” he coaxes. “I will only lie there to share my warmth with you. You need rest.”

When I don’t reply, he sighs and lets go of me. He stands and offers me his hand.

“All right,” he says. “You can take that first shift. I will rest later. You need it more than me.”

My lip trembles, but I take his hand. He pulls me to my feet, but once there, enveloped by his fresh scent, I can’t make myself move to sit on the bed. Staring resolutely at his chest, I keep a hold of him, trying not to wobble on my feet.

“Why?” I ask.

He remains quiet, though he lets out a long exhale. I lift my chin to look him in the eyes. They’re twin pools of darkness, focused on me.

“Why are you helping me?” I demand. “Being nice to me? What will you gain from it? I told you I have nothing to give you. Apart from my body, but you say you don’t want that either.”

I shut my mouth to keep the rest of my outburst to myself. I’ve said enough.

He doesn’t answer for a long time. My mind supplies the answer, of course, which is that he has an ulterior motive even more horrible than forcing himself on me.

Then he says, “I couldn’t not help.”

He clamps his mouth shut after this declaration and frowns down at me as if it’s all the explanation I need, and certainly all I’m ever going to get.

And then it hits me.

I’m a nuisance.

Somewhere along his upbringing, someone hammered into his skull the idea that you simply do not leave a woman strapped to a tree in the middle of winter, especially if she’s about to be eaten by a pack of wolves. He has rescued me, and now he’s paying for his choices. He never wanted this to happen. Never wanted to be stuck during a snowstorm with a strange, bedraggled woman—one of a different species, no less.

Apparently, his chivalry also prevents him from simply taking my suggestion and sleeping first. He must be exhausted after running around with me in his arms, and gods know what he was doing all day before he stumbled onto me. All he wants is to get some sleep, and I’m preventing him from doing that by being so damn untrusting.

Korr sniffs at me again. His grip on my hand tightens, then he sighs and starts to draw away. But I squeeze my fingers around his, my decision made.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s go to bed.”

To his credit, he doesn’t comment on my sudden change of heart. Instead, he guides me to bed and helps me sit, then waits until I arrange myself on the far side of it, my back to him. He shucks his wool jacket and leather vest and goes to pull his linen tunic over his head, then stops midway, stares at me for a moment, and tugs it back down.

I hold my breath as he carefully lowers himself on the pallet behind me. He unfolds his large body and draws the covers up and over us both.

A deep sigh and some more sniffing later, he seems to relax. “Sleep well, little witch.”

I lie still for a long while, waiting for him to break his word. It would be so easy for him to do, after all. But with every passing minute, the chances of that happening seem to diminish. His breathing levels out, and a loud snore rends the silence. He’s asleep, truly asleep. I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a sudden, unexpected giggle that bubbles up my throat, and carefully nudge Korr in the ribs with my elbow to get him to roll to his side.

My exhaustion wins in the end. The wounds and the cold and the mad flight for our lives all took their toll on me, and finally, I can’t hold my eyes open anymore. For now, I must trust this orc whether I like it or not.

I wake to soft light filtering in from behind the window coverings. The world is silent, and when I breathe, my breath fogs in front of my face, yet I’m warm from head to toe, cozy under the thick covers.

Then an exhale ruffles the nape of my neck, and my body stiffens all over as I suddenly become aware of where I am.

That’s Korr’s large body pressed up against my back. His heavy arm slung over my waist, anchoring me to him. His heat that’s kept me toasty warm through the night.

Gods, I’ve been so stupid. Of course he made a move on me when I was at my weakest. I could blame my exhaustion, but I knew this would happen.

Then the last cobwebs of my dreams clear away, and I realize he’s still asleep. His arm is slung over me, yes, but he’s not grabbing me or holding me down. His steady breaths are slow and deep.

He’s not attacking me at all.

I note with some alarm that not only did he wrap himself around me—I apparently migrated to his half of the bed. Maybe self-preservation had kicked in during the night, and I’d instinctively sought out the living, breathing source of heat right next to me.

Yes, that would explain this embarrassing situation.

Now I only need to slip from under his arm and back to my side, then pretend I’m waking up right where he left me. Hopefully, he hadn’t woken up during the night to replace me plastered to his chest. And luckily, I’m facing away from him, so he wouldn’t have been able to see my tightened nipples.

The reaction of my body is a surprise, especially as my various injuries are making themselves known again. The magic ointment must have worn off overnight, but my insides feel soft and liquid, my core slick with arousal.

This won’t do. Bracing myself for the pain, I carefully shuffle an inch away from Korr.

His hand twitches on my hip, and he rumbles in his sleep, pulling me back against his front. I freeze, wait for his breathing to level out again, and try again, but it’s no use. Every time I gain so much as a hand’s breadth of distance, the sleeping orc resolutely drags me back in. He buries his face in my auburn hair, sniffs, and drifts off again, his hand still clutching at my hip firmly.

There’s nothing for it.

“Korr.”

I nudge him with my elbow, only this time, he doesn’t roll the other way but instead closer to me, curling his body around mine. He inhales deeply and groans, as if he’s in pain. Then he rolls his hips forward, and the front of his leather pants touches my bottom, barely covered with my thin shift. The hardness of his cock drags over my ass, and my core ignites with want.

It’s an involuntary, instinctual reaction, yet I’m helpless to stop it. My cheeks flaming, I let out a surprised yelp at how much this is affecting me.

Korr wrenches himself away from me and jumps to his feet in one smooth movement. “What is it?” he barks, whipping his gaze from side to side. “What’s wrong?”

I bury my face in the blanket, embarrassed beyond belief. “Nothing,” I squeak. “Go back to sleep.”

Korr is silent for so long, I finally peer up at him. He’s standing in the middle of the small room, taking up so much space, but what he’s doing is strange. He sniffs at the sleeves of his tunic, then closes his eyes, a pained grimace on his face.

“Did I try to hold you in the night?” he asks. “I’m sorry, it’s just that—”

“No.” I realize he must scent me all over himself. “It was, um, it was me. I think I must have rolled over in my sleep. I’m sorry. I can wash your shirt if it smells. Here, give it to me.”

I stand and reach for it, cheeks flooding with warmth. The last thing I want is to make Korr uncomfortable in his own house. Or hut.

He takes a step forward and inhales again, and this time, his gaze falls on my sensitive breasts, hidden under his linen tunic, then on my bare legs. He groans and raises his hand to cup my face, and I lean into his touch, drawn in by his scent, his warmth. He slides his fingers into my hair, his nails scratching lightly over my scalp. I gasp at the intimate touch. My skin feels too tight, and I need something, immediately.

He crowds me against the wall, and my hands fall to his chest. He’s breathing hard, his heartbeat pounding under my palm. Then he leans down over me, touching his forehead to mine.

“Ow,” I yelp.

He jumps back as if stung, and stares at me, horrified. “I’m sorry, Ivy.”

“No, it’s fine.” I gingerly touch the bandage on my forehead, forgotten in the heat of the moment. “I’m all right.”

He scrubs his fingers through his long hair. “I forgot… Fuck, you smell so good.”

I squeeze my thighs together, but I don’t think that helps much. Korr doesn’t seem any calmer than before. My gaze slips down to where his cock is straining against the front of his leather pants. I look away immediately, but he notices anyway and hunches his broad shoulders.

“It is nothing for you to worry about,” he says, already moving backward toward the door. “I will take care of it myself. As I always do.”

With those words, he’s gone, and I’m left standing by the wall, confused and still warm all over. He’s going to take care of it? Right now?

I don’t dare open the window covering to see what he’s doing, but I do leave the comfortable bed and tiptoe to the door to press my ear against the cool wood. There’s nothing at first but the creak of the trees in the wind and the sound of my own quickened breaths, but several minutes later, a low groan breaks the silence, the sound guttural and almost pained.

I leap back from the door, and by the time Korr walks back into the room, his face and hands damp from the snow, I’m sitting on the stool by the stove, trying to coax the glowing embers from last night back to life. I’m sure I can pretend I didn’t just try to spy on my savior until he sniffs the air in my direction and curls his lips up in a knowing grin.

Instead of admitting that I found what he did very intriguing, I go on the offensive. “You said you always take care of yourself.” I try to keep my voice level. “What did you mean by that?”

Korr brings out a tin bowl and a linen bag, tugs open the drawstring, and pours some dry oatmeal into the bowl. He adds some hot water from the stove, sets the bowl on the hot stovetop to cook, and busies himself with cutting up several small, red apples. He hands me a slice, and I tentatively chew on it, still careful of my bruised jaw and cut lip.

He’s silent for so long, I start to believe he won’t answer. It’s an awfully intimate question, after all, and I shouldn’t have demanded that from him anyway. But just when I decide that I should probably apologize for being too forward, Korr speaks.

“I have never lain with a woman,” he admits. His dark gaze darts toward me and down again as he focuses on coring another apple.

That’s surprising. I can’t tell for sure how old he is, but he’s definitely a grown adult, older than me perhaps, with thin lines radiating from the corners of his eyes when he smiles.

“Oh?” Now that I have this knowledge, I don’t know what to do with it. How does one comment on such a revelation? “That’s… How come? You’re attractive,” I blurt, unable to hold my tongue. Then I flush, realizing what I just said. “I mean, for an orc! No—that’s not—I just meant—”

Korr grins at me, his teeth white against the rich green of his skin. “You are attractive, too, little witch.”

Now my face is flaming hot, and I press my hands to my cheeks, which sends a spike of pain through me, reminding me of what I must look like at the moment. “I’m a mess,” I whisper.

In a blur of motion, Korr is crouched in front of me. “You are beautiful. And strong. You survived.”

I barely hold back a sniffle, but I cried enough yesterday. Today, I let Korr bandage my wounds with fresh linen strips and more of that ointment, which has done wonders for me. The healing process has been sped up considerably, including my feet, and I hope I’ll be able to walk around alone soon. As I wash the used bandages in hot water, Korr finishes up breakfast and brings it to me in bed, then takes a seat on the stool next to me. We share this meal, and a comfortable silence descends on the room, until I think of something that has the next mouthful of oatmeal sticking in my throat.

“How much food do we have?” I ask.

Korr’s mouth pulls to the side. “Enough for a couple more days if we ration it well.”

“And then?” I prompt, worry rising in me.

“And then I’ll have to hunt,” he says. “We won’t move from here until the weather clears. As long as it’s snowing like this, it would be too dangerous for you to be out there.”

I chew over that for a while. “If you were on your own,” I begin, “could you get to safety in this blizzard? Return to your…wherever your home is?”

“The Hill,” he says. “Aye, I could have made the trip. It would be cold and miserable, but I told you, orcs are hardier.”

He doesn’t seem happy about it, but neither am I.

“You should go,” I say immediately. “I don’t want you to starve here because of me.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Korr.” I lean forward and put my hand on his knee. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died after saving me. If we only…”

“No,” he repeats, the word sharper this time. “Do not suggest it again, Ivy. I will not leave you. Not ever.”

That has me drawing away from him again. “What?”

He scrubs his hands over his face. “Forget I said that.”

“Uh,” I say, “why did you say it?”

My heart thumps against my ribs. This is it. The moment where it all comes to light, his reason for having saved me and cared for me like this. I look down at the half-eaten breakfast of oatmeal and apples and feel my throat closing up. Of course a male like him wouldn’t have taken such pains to provide for me without some ulterior motive.

Stupid, stupid.

“Ivy,” Korr pleads. “Do not think like that.”

“Like what?” I ask, my voice higher than before.

He takes my hand and presses it lightly between his palms. “I can see you are distressed. And sad. I promise you, I won’t hurt you.”

I swallow thickly. “But why?” I insist. “What is going on?”

Korr’s expression closes off. “You are my mate.”