Chapter 33
THREK
My words, "Now, you are truly mine," hang in the sacred, silent air of the salt circle.
The magic hums in our joined, bound wrists, a warm, invisible chain that connects my blood to hers. I lean down and kiss her. It is a slow, deep, final sealing of the vow, a taste of her lips and my promise.
I pull back, and my new, hazel eyes are filled with a hunger that is deeper than the Urog's rage, a hunger that has been buried and starving for a lifetime. It is a hunger of the soul, and it is mixed with a love so bright and sharp it hurts.
I look at my mate. My mate.
Her blue eyes are shining with tears and a trust so absolute it humbles me. She is everything.
"Betty," I say, my voice a hoarse, reverent rumble, thick with an emotion I am still learning to name. "My wife."
I bend, sliding one massive, green arm under her knees and the other behind her back. I lift her from the circle. She is nothing in my arms, a leaf, a tiny, precious weight that I could crush, but never will. I carry her from the sacred space of the salt to the new, large bed of furs I prepared.
I lay her down, and our bound hands rest between us on the dark fur, the twine a physical reminder of our souls' chain. She is still in her simple, human clothes, and I kneel beside the furs, a warrior prostrate before his queen.
"Betty. My mate," I say again, my voice shaking with the force of my need and my love. "You are so beautiful. But you are wearing too much. Let me see my wife."
Unlike the Urog, I do not rip. Unlike the animal, I do not tear. My hands, which remember only breaking things, are shaking with the agonizing need to be gentle. I slowly untie the crude laces of her tunic, my large, green fingers fumbling with the small knots.
"So slow," I groan, a sound of frustration.
She laughs, a small, breathless sound, and lifts her free hand to help me.
"No," I command, my voice gentle but firm. I catch her hand and kiss her palm. "I will do this. I will undress you. I will see every part of my mate."
“Threk…” she moans, nodding and gazing at me with so much love it almost brings me to my knees.
I peel the layers of wool and linen from her small, pale body, my gaze feasting on every inch of skin I uncover. The firelight kisses her skin, making her glow. She shivers under my gaze, and I know it has nothing to do with the cold.
I have her naked.
She lies open to me on the dark furs, a pale star in my den. My mind can finally process her beauty without the red haze, and it is overwhelming.
"Gods, Betty..." I breathe, my hand hovering over her stomach, afraid to touch without permission. "You are perfect. So small. So white. My star. You are built so perfectly for me."
She nods, her eyes heavy-lidded with need. Yes.
That is all the permission I need.
I start my worship. I kiss her mouth, slowly. Then, I map her. I kiss her jaw. I taste the salt on her throat. I suck on her earlobe, my hot breath making her gasp and arch against the furs.
"I am going to taste all of you, Betty," I whisper against her skin, my voice thick and filthy with promise. "I am going to learn every part of my mate. I have wanted this since I was a beast, locked in my head. Now... I can tell you how good you taste."
I move down. My mouth closes over her nipple. It beads instantly, a hard, tight point. I suck it deep into my mouth, laving it with my tongue, flicking it with the memory of Namir's skill.
I growl my appreciation. "You taste like fialon berries and hope, Betty. So sweet. Does my mouth feel good on your breast? Tell me."
"Yes," she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulder. "Gods, Threk, yes..."
I move lower, licking a hot path down her stomach, dipping my tongue into her navel.
She shrieks at the sensation. I move all the way down her small, perfect body.
I take her foot in my massive hand. It is tiny.
I kiss her ankle. Then, looking up her body, watching her writhe in the furs, I suck each of her toes, one by one, a primal, possessive act of total devotion.
This slow, worshipful torture drives her wild. She is arching off the furs, her bound hand pulling at my own bound wrist, the twine connecting us.
"Threk... Gods, Threk... please," she sobs, her voice desperate. "I need you. I need you inside me. Please stop playing and fuck me."
I laugh. A deep, rumbling, joyful sound erupts from my chest. I finally can. "Not yet, my mate," I growl, crawling up her body. "I have dreamed of this night. I dreamed of tasting you properly."
I settle between her legs, nudging them wider with my shoulders. I look at her. At her center.
She is pink and slick and beautiful, gushing for me.
"My Gods, Betty," I groan, my own cock leaping painfully in response. "You are so wet. My perfect, beautiful cunt. Look at you, so ready for me. Open for me. Mine."
I lower my head. This is not the Urog's curious taste. This is the Orc's knowing feast. My tongue, rough and skilled from memories I did not know I had, finds her. I devour her. I suck her clit into my mouth, pulling gently with my lips as my tongue plunges deep inside her heat, learning her taste.
She screams my name, her hips bucking off the furs. "Threk! Threk! I'm so close! Please, don't—"
I pull away at the last second. She cries out in protest, a high, wounded sound.
I move up, positioning myself over her, a green-skinned giant. I take our joined, bound hands and pin them gently in the furs above her head.
I am still monstrous even if I’m no longer an Urog. My cock is massive, thicker than her arm, heavy and dark with need.
Then, I rub myself against her. I press the thick, heavy head of my cock against her slick, wet pussy, just a tease of pressure.
A groan tears from my throat at the contact.
She is so hot. Her scent—of sex and her and mine—is overwhelming, and she whimpers, pushing her hips up against me, begging without words.
"You want this, Betty?" I pant, my voice raw and filthy with need. "You want all of my cock? Tell me you want it inside your perfect, tight pussy. Say it."
"I want it!" she sobs, thrashing beneath me. "Yes! Please, Threk! Now!"
I align at her entrance. I push.
My Gods.
I sink into her, inch by agonizing inch.
She is unbelievably tight. So impossibly small and hot.
Her body takes me, stretching to fit me, and her inner muscles clutch at me, squeezing me from the inside, milking me before I even move fully inside her.
It is better than my memories. It is better than the hot spring.
This is home.
I groan loudly as I seat my cock fully to the hilt, burying myself deep inside her. My body shudders with the perfect, agonizing fit of it, my hips fusing with hers. "Betty... gods... you feel... perfect," I pant, my voice shaking. "You fit me like no other."
I move. Slowly at first, just rocking my hips, letting her body learn the size and weight of me. It is a deep, worshipful plundering. I pull almost all the way out, just to feel her pussy clutch at me, begging me not to leave, and then I push back in, stretching her as I gasp.
"I love you..." I whisper, my voice raw against her ear, the thrust emphasizing the word.
I pull back again, watching her face twist in ecstasy. "...so much..."
Her body lifts off the furs to follow me, demanding more. "My star..." I thrust again, deeper this time, my muscles burning with control. "...my savior. My life."
She cannot take the slow worship. Her legs wrap high around my waist, locking her ankles, taking me as deep as I can go. She claws at the furs beside my head.
"Threk... Threk... faster!" she screams, her head thrashing on the furs. "Please, fuck me! Make me come! Show me! Show me you love me! Fuck me, my mate!"
Her begging shatters my control. The slow, reverent worship is over. The savage she called for is here, but this time it is a shared frenzy.
I roar, a deep, guttural sound of pure dominance, and slam my hips down. The sound of our bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin, echoes in our den.
My thrusts become deep, hard, and animalistic. I am branding her. I am claiming her. I am showing her everything I could not say as a beast. I groan her name, a pounding, rhythmic chant in time with my thrusts. "Betty! Betty! Mine!"
She screams as her body shatters, her inner muscles convulsing around my cock in waves of white-hot fire, squeezing me tighter than I thought possible. "THREK!"
That feeling—her pussy milking me, pulling me deeper—sends me over. I roar her name back, my back arching off the furs, and spill my release deep inside her, a hot, heavy flood that I feel pulse into her womb, sealing our bond forever.
I collapse, my body shaking with a power I have never felt. I stay buried inside her, pulsing, until my breath returns. I pull out slowly, the sound of it wet and final, leaving her gasping and empty.
I immediately gather her limp, boneless form against my chest. I wrap her in the furs, pulling her on top of me, skin to skin. I hold her, our bound hands resting together on her stomach. My heart is full to bursting.
"Home," I whisper, kissing her damp hair. "Forever, Betty. Always."
She whispers back, her voice spent and broken. "Forever."