Her Rugged Orcs

28. Grash

28

GRASH

T he mountain path twists ahead like a serpent, forcing us to take yet another detour. My muscles burn with frustration. We could reach the settlement in half the time if we took the direct route, but the dark elves' pursuit leaves us no choice.

"I can walk," Eira says, her voice carrying that edge of pride I've come to know. "You don't need to keep offering to carry me."

My hands itch to lift her anyway, to feel her warmth against my chest. The memory of her scent – wild earth and rain – makes my throat tight. But I grunt in acknowledgment, keeping my distance even as my instinct screams to hold her close.

Murok leads the way, his braids swaying as he picks our route. Dren brings up the rear, silent as always. The doubt between us still hangs thick as mountain fog. Did she really betray us to the dark elves? My mind says maybe, but my blood says she's mine to protect regardless.

She stumbles, catching herself on a boulder. I reach for her automatically, but she flinches away. The gesture cuts deeply.

"I said I can manage," she snaps, but her voice breaks on the last word.

I watch her straighten her shoulders, noticing how she keeps her gaze fixed on the ground. She hasn't met my eyes since dawn, and each averted glance feels like another crack in whatever we were building between us. Something's breaking inside her – I can see it in the tight line of her jaw, the way her fingers tremble before she clenches them into fists.

"Eira-" I start, but she quickens her pace, putting more distance between us.

My muscles tighten. I want to grab her, make her look at me, tell her... what? That I trust her when I'm not completely sure myself? That I want her even with this shadow between us?

Instead, I follow in silence, watching her pale hair catch the sunlight, remembering how it felt twisted in my fingers during our passionate kiss in the ruins.

The fire burns low, casting flickering shadows across the camp. Eira lies on her side, her back to me, her breathing steady but shallow. Murok and Dren are already asleep, their deep breaths blending with the night sounds. I should sleep too, but the ache in my groin won’t let me. It’s been building since the ruins, since I first tasted her, since I felt her body arch into mine. I’ve tried to keep my distance, tried to respect the tension between us, but tonight, the primal part of me wins.

I shift closer, my body pressing against hers, my chest against her back. She doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away. Her warmth seeps into me, and I can’t stop myself from sliding an arm around her waist. She’s so small, so soft, and yet there’s a strength in her that drives me wild. My hand trails up her side, feeling the curve of her ribs, the swell of her breast. She doesn’t stop me, doesn’t say a word, but I hear her breath hitch, feel her body tense ever so slightly.

"Eira," I murmur, my voice rough with need. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t push me away either. My fingers brush over her nipple through the fabric of her dress, and I feel it harden under my touch. A low groan escapes me, and I press myself harder against her backside, my cock straining against the confines of my pants.

I kiss the back of her neck, my lips trailing down to her shoulder. She shivers, and I can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from me. My hand slips under her dress, cupping her breast, my thumb circling her nipple. She lets out a soft moan, and it’s like a spark to kindling. I grind against her, my hips moving of their own accord, and she arches into me, her body responding even if her mind is elsewhere.

"Mine," I growl into her ear, my voice low and possessive. She doesn’t argue, doesn’t fight me. My fingers trail down her stomach, slipping between her thighs. She’s wet, so wet, and I can’t hold back the groan that escapes me as I slide a finger inside her. She gasps softly, her body tightening around me, and I can feel her pulse quicken.

I kiss her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, marking her as mine. She lets out a stifled moan, her hips rocking against my hand. I add another finger, stretching her, feeling her clench around me. My cock throbs, desperate for release, but I don’t want this to end. I want to feel her come undone in my arms.

But she doesn't. She lets me touch her, lets me pleasure her, but she doesn’t reach back for me, doesn’t beg for more. It’s maddening, this control she has over me, this power she wields without even trying. I grind against her, my hips moving in time with my fingers, and I feel the pressure building, the heat pooling in my groin.

"Eira," I growl low, my voice strained. She doesn’t respond, but her body does, her backside rocking against me, her breath coming in short gasps. I can’t hold back any longer. With a low groan, I come, my release soaking through my pants, my body shuddering against hers.

I collapse into her, my breath ragged, my heart pounding. She’s still pressed up against me, her body tense, her breathing uneven. I want to ask her what she’s thinking, want to know why she let me touch her but didn’t reach for me in return. But I don’t. Instead, I pull her closer, my arm tightening around her waist, and press a kiss to the back of her neck.

"Mine," I whisper again, my voice softer this time. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t pull away either. And for now, that’s enough.

The morning sun filters through the trees, but its warmth doesn't reach me. I watch Eira gather her things, her movements mechanical, distant. The memory of last night burns in my blood - her soft skin under my fingers, the way she arched against me. But now she won't even look at me.

"We should move," she says, her voice flat, empty. Like we're strangers. Like I didn't just hold her, taste her, claim her as mine.

My jaw clenches. "Eira." I reach for her arm, needing to touch her, to break through whatever wall she's building.

She steps away, keeping that careful distance between us. "Don't."

The word hits like a blade to the gut. Rage bubbles up inside me - not at her, but at myself, at all of us. We did this. Our doubt poisoned whatever was growing between us.

"Last night-" I start, my voice rough.

"Was nothing," she cuts me off, still not meeting my eyes. "Just bodies in the dark. That's all it ever is, isn't it?"

The hollow tone in her voice scares me more than any battle cry. She's slipping away, becoming that empty shell I first saw in the pits. My hands clamp into fists at my sides, fighting the urge to grab her, shake her, make her see what she means to me.

"Look at me," I growl, but she turns away.

"We should go," she says again, like I'm nothing.

My chest aches. I'm losing her. With every word unsaid, every touch avoided, she's drifting further away. And I don't know how to hold on without breaking her further.