Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Dakvaar
I must have slept at some point on Friday night, but I couldn’t tell you when.
I lost count of the number of times Sofia orgasmed around my tongue, with me sucking her arousal from her like a starving male.
Eventually she fell asleep between one climax and the next, and I had to force myself to roll away, to go get cleaned up, to change into something else.
When was the last time I’d spilled in my underwear?
Likely back before I was wearing underwear, in my own world, as a young male too eager to learn control.
But I had learned control, and I would exercise that now…
I’d told myself that as I climbed back into the bed, gathering a slack Sofia in my arms. And maybe I would’ve been able to hold on to that control, had the scent of her pussy not continually caressed my nostrils and tusks…
I was addicted. Addicted to the taste of her, the feel of her. I told myself I just needed to have my hand on her to quiet my Kteer, but the hand turned to stroking, which turned to cupping, which then turned to kissing…
And before I knew it, my hand or my face would be buried in that delicious cunt, and she’d be coming again with a soft—or loud—cry.
My cock had forgotten what it was like to be soft, and I didn’t give a fuck. Yes, it ached for release; yes, my Kteer howled for me to claim my Mate, make her mine.
But I wasn’t going to have sex with Sofia Lopez as long as she thought I owed her. I wasn’t going to bury my cock in her tightness until she understood we were Mates.
And she wasn’t ready for that.
Not until she was ready to explain her past to me, explain Anthony’s violence to me.
On Saturday morning, Rosa was in a grumpy mood, demanding I play with her, since she didn’t have any real toys. I did the best I could while Sofia napped on the couch—my Kteer preened, knowing I’d worn her out—and managed a text conversation with Torrk in between piggyback rides.
Hey, I need a favor.
Anything.
Not even going to ask what it is before you agree?
Dakvaar, you’ve never asked ME for anything. Hells yes I’ll drop everything to help. What do you need?
I mentally shrugged, realizing he’d always been the one to come to me for advice. Had I truly never asked him for anything? Had I never relied on my goalie—on any of my teammates—for anything?
They helped you with Sofia.
That was right. On the day I’d brought her, broken and bleeding, into the ice complex, Kardok and Torrk were there. They’d had my back then, and the younger male would have my back now.
I need you to go shopping for me. Then bring it over here ASAP.
Sure. What do you need?
Dolls.
…
Dolls?
Dolls. Like the kind little girls play with. Go buy a few of every type, with accessories or whatever. Or anything else the people at the store say would be good for her.
Ah, for Rosa. You were worrying me a little there for a hot second. ?? Everything going okay with your new family?
I hesitated, looking over at Sofia’s long lashes resting against her cheeks. Then I carefully typed, “We’re getting there. Thanks, Torrk.”
He just sent another trio of winking emojis back at me, which made me roll my eyes and scoff.
But later that morning when he dropped off the packages—didn’t even stay long enough to receive Rosa’s adoration—I realized how much I owed him. As a friend.
Rosa spent the rest of the day surrounded by the detritus of the doll packages, exclaiming over each new toy, while her mother blushed each time she looked at me. But I could smell the faint scent of Sofia’s arousal, and I knew she was thinking about last night.
Saturday night, after we both put Rosa to sleep, Sofia took my hand, led me to my bedroom, and blushed hard as she stared at my chest. As if it were some sort of code word, she murmured hesitantly, “I want to make you feel good, Dakvaar.”
And I reacted the way she’d known I would, by stripping her naked and lashing her sweet cunt with my tongue. I came in my pants again, which drove her mad with need.
My control was quickly fraying around this female.
Sunday morning I slept in—I needed it—and woke to a full breakfast Sofia and Rosa had made for me. When the kitling learned about the plan to travel to Denver with the team, she was thrilled, bouncing around the house and having a whole conversation with Veth’kar about which dolls to bring.
The next hour was occupied with packing necessities for the day, and I began to sense Sofia’s worry. As she hurried past with yet another pair of jeans for Rosa, I snagged her hand, swinging her to a stop in the hall.
“What is it, dkaar?” I murmured, drawing her close, inhaling her scent.
“In case she has an accident.” She waved the trousers.
“Although why I would be worried about that, I don’t know, she hasn’t peed herself in a year.
I’m just—Dios, Dakvaar, we’re going to be with your friends for hours and hours, and she’s going to get rowdy, and I’m not going to know what to say, and I don’t know anything about hockey, and I don’t want them to think you’re an idiot for saving me and—”
I stopped her panic with a kiss. When she hummed and melted against me, I deepened the kiss, feeling my lips curl beneath hers.
When I finally straightened, she was breathing more evenly.
“They will love you, Sofia, because I do.”
It wasn’t until I walked away, her staring shocked after me, that I realized what I’d said.
And I couldn’t regret it.
She’d been in my home for a week, but in my life for so much longer. She was my Mate, even if she didn’t know it yet…and we were fast approaching the point at which she needed to know.
To understand.
But today I had a game to focus on.
The Amber Avengers were one of the oldest teams in the Orc Hockey League, and some of the best-funded.
The Terrors were the youngest—we didn’t even have our own arena, which is why we practiced at the ice complex—but we were good.
The Avengers were generally thought to be the better team, but we were going to prove them wrong tonight.
How could I not, with my Mate with me?
The team bus was parked outside the ice complex when we arrived, engine already rumbling, and I felt Sofia’s hand tighten in mine as we approached the door.
Normally, this bus was a place of both ritual silence and controlled chaos.
Bardon would take the front seat behind the driver, tablet already open to whatever footage he thought would be most useful to study.
Coach Ellis and the other coaches would spread out around him, talking strategy in a low murmur.
Jord would have his earbuds in, bouncing his knee, too much energy in too young a body.
Torrk would fold his massive frame into a window seat and be asleep before we cleared town limits—goalies possessed a talent for sleep I’d never understood, as if hours of motionless focus in the crease taught the body to conserve itself whenever possible.
And it was ridiculous how he could sleep sitting up—hells, I’d seen him fall asleep in the locker room, listening to coach’s post-game rundown, standing upright.
Kardok would complain—about the seats, about the schedule, about whatever petty indignity had caught his attention that day—until someone told him to shut up, at which point he’d jump on the offender and there’d be a tussle I or one of the other older players would have to break up.
Away games had a familiar rhythm; males readying themselves to be violent for money.
I had warned Sofia it might be boring.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The doors hissed open, and Rosa went up the steps first, one hand in her mother’s, the other clutched around a doll Torrk had provided with a fluffy white wedding dress.
She stopped at the top and surveyed the bus the way a general might survey new territory.
“Kitling!” Jord was on his feet before I’d even climbed the steps behind them, already pulling out his earbuds. “You’re coming to the game?”
Rosa nodded solemnly. “I’m gonna watch Dak hit people.”
A wave of laughter—guffaws, really—went down the bus. Bardon, tablet still open on his lap, looked up and actually smiled—an expression I didn’t often see on him before a game.
I didn’t get the chance to guide my Mate and kitling to seats, because Torrk—Torrk, who once slept through a whole time zone without stirring—was already rearranging himself, sliding toward the aisle to open up the window seat.
“She’ll want to see the mountains,” he announced confidently, clearly abandoning his plans to nap.
Rosa climbed in beside him without hesitation, already deep in negotiation about the names of her dolls, and Torrk listened to all of it with the same intensity he gave a shootout. As if her dolls’ names mattered to him. As if she mattered to him, simply because she mattered to me.
Kardok, three rows back, had abandoned his complaints entirely. “Sofia.” He nodded at her, and there was something almost gentle under the gruffness. “Good to see you standing.”
Her breath caught—I felt it more than heard it, my hand still at the small of her back—and I understood.
She hadn’t seen most of these males since the worst day of her life. They remembered her broken. They remembered the blood.
“Thank you,” she said, quiet. “For everything you did that day.”
Kardok’s smile flattened, orc discomfort with sincerity.
He grunted something and produced, from nowhere I could see, a bag of dried fruit, which he tossed to Rosa without comment.
She caught it with both hands and declared him her favorite, which made Torrk mutter something in our tongue that was uncomplimentary about being usurped as the kitling’s favorite.
My team—my friends—were vying for her affection the way I desperately wanted to claim her mother’s.
By the time the bus pulled out of the lot, Rosa had been claimed by no fewer than four grown males as some combination of mascot, judge, and honored guest. Torrk was teaching her a handshake while Bardon had produced chocolate I didn’t know he carried.