18. Lily
The screech of tortured metal splits the gloom of my cell as the door bursts open with a deafening clang. I”m on my feet in an instant, pressing back against the damp stone wall, blinking against the sudden flare of torchlight silhouetting the massive figure in the doorway. Every instinct screams danger, urges me to lunge for my captor”s throat, to fight my way free or die in the trying...
But then he steps forward into the guttering light and my heart seizes. Not with fear, but a sweet, disbelieving relief that steals my breath and brings a fierce smile to my cracked lips.
”Took you long enough.” As soon as I say it, tears well in my eyes. “Grok... you came for me.”
His eyes find mine across the shadowed space, molten amber crackling with emotions I can”t even begin to parse—fury, relief, tenderness, and something wilder, more intense, that sets my blood alight. In two strides he”s across the cell and I”m in his arms, crushed against the hard, hot wall of his chest as he buries his face in my hair.
”Lily,” he rumbles, and the raw ache in his deep voice, the way it breaks on my name, undoes me. ”Of course I came. I”ll always come for you. Always.” His hands are everywhere, roaming over my back, my arms, my face, as if reassuring himself I”m real, I”m whole. ”When I heard you”d been taken, I thought...gods, I was so afraid I”d lost you...”
I fist my hands in his tunic, pressing as close as I can, breathing in the wild, woodsy scent of him. ”I knew you”d find me,” I whisper fiercely. ”I never doubted it, not for a second. You”re my heart, Grok. My home. And I will always, always find my way back to you.”
He makes a rough sound low in his throat and then his mouth is on mine, hot and hard and hungry. I open for him with a gasp and he surges in, his tongue tangling with mine in a slick, scorching dance that sends fire licking through my veins. It”s a claiming, a communion, pouring every ounce of fear and longing, relief and love, into the desperate slide and tangle of lips and tongues and teeth.
By the time we break apart, I”m breathless and trembling, my lips bee-stung and tingling. Grok rests his forehead against mine, his chest heaving as he struggles for control.
”I want you,” he rasps, his big hands flexing on my hips. ”Gods, Lily, I want you so badly I can barely think straight. But we don”t have time. The guards I knocked out won”t stay that way forever, and once the alarm is raised...”
I nod, forcing my desire-drugged mind to focus. He”s right. As much as I long to lose myself in him, to affirm our bond in the most primal way possible, we need to move. To get out of this accursed place before Varkos and his men regroup.
Grok must see the understanding in my eyes because he gives a sharp nod and steps back, though his hand finds mine and twines our fingers together. ”I”ve got a small force holding the entrance,” he says briskly, all business now. ”But we”ll need to move fast and quiet to make it out of the dungeons. Do you know these tunnels at all?”
I shake my head ruefully. ”They didn”t exactly give me the grand tour. But wait...” I close my eyes, picturing the twists and turns as the guards dragged me to this cell, the pattern of the torches on the walls. ”I think I remember the way I was brought in. And if we can get to the guards” quarters, some of them might be sympathetic. They”re not all loyal to Varkos.”
Grok”s eyes gleam, fierce and proud. ”That”s my smart, stubborn mate,” he praises, the words sending a surge of warmth through me. ”Lead the way, then. I”ve got your back.”
And just like that, we”re moving, slipping out into the torchlit corridor with Grok a silent, lethal shadow at my heels. My heart pounds and my senses strain as we navigate the labyrinthine tunnels, every splash and skitter from the dark setting my nerves alight. But through it all, the steady heat of Grok”s presence grounds me, a reminder that whatever else is taken from me, I”ll always have him.
I lead us up and up, taking turn after turn, trying to retrace my steps as best I can. More than once we have to duck into shadowed alcoves to avoid patrolling guards, huddling together in the darkness, barely daring to breathe. Each time, Grok”s arms come around me, his big body curling protectively around mine. I melt into him, taking comfort in his strength, and he nuzzles his face into my hair, breathing me in like he”s starving for the scent of me.
When the coast is clear, we move on, up another staircase and down a narrow corridor that I recognize. The door to the guards” quarters looms ahead, muffled voices and the clink of cutlery from the other side a welcome slice of normalcy. I motion Grok to wait and rap quietly on the door.
After a long, heart-palpitating moment, the door cracks open and a grizzled face peers out. It”s Finn, one of the older guards who always snuck me extra rations, his eyes widening when he sees me.
”Lily, what are you?—?”
”No time,” I hiss urgently. ”Just tell me—are you with me? Can we trust you?”
He glances from me to the towering ogre warlord looming behind me and back, indecision warring across his lined face. Then, jaw firming, he nods. ”Aye, lass. You”ve got friends here. What do you need?”
Relief rushes through me and I squeeze his arm gratefully. ”Just buy us some time, and don”t raise the alarm. Do that, and you won”t be forgotten when this is over.”
Finn wavers for the barest second but then nods resolutely. ”For you, Red Blade? Anything.” With a quick salute, he melts back into the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Grok makes a low sound of approval as we hurry on, finding a side staircase and spiraling upwards. ”Friends in low places,” he rumbles appreciatively. ”Not bad for a human.”
I snort softly. ”You say that now. Just wait until your turn comes to haggle with the grunts. We common folk have to stick together.”
He huffs a quiet laugh and squeezes my hand, his calloused thumb sweeping over my knuckles in a way that makes me shiver. ”I”ll keep it in mind,” he murmurs wryly. ”Now, unless I miss my guess, that door up ahead should take us out onto the battlements. From there we can find a way down to the outer ward.”
My heart leaps and I pick up the pace, all but dragging Grok up the last few steps. We spill out into crisp night air and I nearly sob in relief, the sky an inky dome spangled with stars. A brisk wind whips my hair around my face and I gulp down deep lungfuls of it, savoring the freshness after so long in dank, fetid cells.
But my relief quickly turns to alarm as I look around, taking in the height of the stone crenellations, the sheer drop down into the castle”s outer bailey. Where torches bob and glint off helms and spear-points as Varkos”s men swarm below.
Beside me, Grok growls. ”So much for stealth. They must have found my men at the entrance.” He glances left and right, sharp gaze assessing. ”No obvious way down, but if we can cross the wall there, we might be able to climb down the other side while they”re distracted...”
My pulse kicks up but I nod, jaw setting with grim determination. Together, we sprint down the wall, feet pounding on ancient stone.
A guard pops up on the path in front of us, and Grok takes him down with a roar, fiercely punching him in the head. I pause to sweep the guard”s blade up into my hand, its weight a familiar comfort. Behind us, a shout goes up and I risk a glance over my shoulder to see soldiers pouring onto the battlements, steel glinting in the moonlight.
”Go!” Grok roars, whirling to put his bulk between me and our pursuers. ”I”ll hold them off!”
”Like hell you will!” I snarl back, dropping into a fighting stance at his side. ”We do this together or not at all!”
He bares his teeth in a fierce, feral grin, eyes alight with savage joy. This, right here, is the male I love—the warrior, the warlord, exulting in the chance to fight at my side. ”Then let”s show these bastards what it means to face a mated pair,” he rumbles, and charges forward with a mighty bellow.
I”m half a heartbeat behind, swinging the sword I snatched. We crash into their front line like a force of nature, all whirling steel and stunning brutality. Back to back, we fight, Grok”s massive axe cleaving the space, each mighty swing finding flesh and bone. I dart between, fast and vicious as a viper, striking at throats and piercing hearts with ruthless precision.
We are death, destruction; poetry in motion. Mates. Ogre and human, differences seared away in the crucible of combat until we move as one lethal entity. It”s glorious, exultant, and for a breathless span of moments I forget about escape, about anything but the next target, the next kill.
But there are so many of them, a flood of crimson and steel with no end in sight. And for every one we fell, a dozen more swarm in to fill the gap. Even Grok”s massive strength and my human speed can”t hold out forever against such odds.
Slowly, steadily, we”re forced back, hemmed in on both sides until our backs press against the unyielding stone of the wall. Gasping for breath, bleeding from a dozen shallow cuts, I chance a desperate look around. It”s a twenty foot drop on the other side, nothing but the thin spars of scaffolding clinging to the sheer face. Certain death if we”re lucky. If not...a messy, lingering end.
But a quick end is better than capture, better than giving Varkos the satisfaction of breaking us. And gods help me, I want one more chance to hold Grok, to feel his arms around me before the darkness takes us. Better that than the thought of him watching me die at a torturer”s hands.
I risk a quick glance up at my mate, my heart, and find his eyes already on me, wide and fierce and shot through with an aching tenderness. ”Together?” I gasp out, the word mangled to near unintelligibility. But he understands. Of course he does.
”Always,” he replies, just as raggedly. And wrapping one massive arm around my waist, he launches us over the edge into empty space.
Time seems to slow, stretch, the stars wheeling above us as we plummet earthward. The wind howls past, snatching away Grok”s roar and my scream as I cling to him, hands fisted in his tattered tunic. I bury my face in the corded column of his throat, breathing him in like he”s the last good thing in the world. Maybe he is.
I brace for impact, for pain and the sudden blotting dark...but shockingly, it never comes. Instead, with a bone-rattling jolt, we crash through wood and rope, spars and scaffolding cracking and giving way around us. We hit in a tangle of limbs and curses, tumbling across the muck of the outer ward in a hail of shattered timber.
For a terrifying instant, I think the fall has killed Grok. He lies so still beneath me, eyes closed and face lax. But then he groans, a deep, pained sound, and coughs wetly. ”Gods damn,” he rasps, one eye cracking open. ”Remind me...to never do that again.”
A choked, semi-hysterical laugh punches out of me and I pepper feverish kisses over every bit of his dear, dazed face I can reach. ”No,” I agree wildly. ”Next time, we take the stairs.”
Gingerly, wincing at every twinge and strain, we untangle ourselves and stagger to our feet amid the ruins of the collapsed scaffolding. By some mercy of fate, the ward is empty, the guards drawn off by the disturbance on the battlements. But it won”t last. Already, running steps and shouted orders echo from the keep.
”The gates,” Grok says urgently, jerking his chin across the ward.
Following his gaze, my heart leaps to see the dark bulk of the gatehouse looming in the distance, portcullis raised and heavy oaken doors standing open. If we can just make it across the ward before they get organized enough to lower it...
I nod sharply and grab his hand, adrenaline steadying my wobbling legs. ”Let”s go.”
We take off at a dead sprint, leaping debris and darting down narrow passages between buildings. It feels like miles, an eternity of gasping breaths and the slap of feet on cobbles, but I know it”s only moments before we burst out into the open space before the gates. I chance a look behind, dismay spearing through me at the sight of armed men pouring out of the keep, fanning out in pursuit.
”Faster!” I hiss, but Grok”s already driving forward, hand like a vice on mine. Above us, along the battlements, archers assemble with the sharp slither of arrows nocked to bowstrings. My guts turn to ice. We”ll never make it.
But then Grok roars a command, the words lost to the blood thunder in my ears. And like an answer to a prayer, from outside the gate comes an answering bellow, a rumble of hoofbeats and a thicket of bristling spears as a wedge of ogre warriors charge into view.
My galloping heart fairly stutters with relief and hope. Grok”s men! They came for him, for us. Some still cling to their mounts while others race forward on foot, and as they flood into the ward with weapons swinging, the archers” focus shifts, giving us the opening we need.
With a last gasping effort, numb legs churning, we hurl ourselves through the gate, across the lowered drawbridge and out into clear air beyond the walls. As my feet hit thick green turf I nearly stumble, pain and elation and exhaustion crashing over me in an overwhelming wave. But Grok”s arm locks around my waist, keeping me upright as he half-carries me onward, calling out to his warriors to fall back, to cover our retreat.
Somehow, impossibly, no arrows perforate my back as we stagger into the sheltering darkness of the forest verge. No charging hoofbeats of pursuit, no whoosh of a sling stone ending our flight with blunt finality. It seems unreal, unbelievable, that after so much fear and fighting we could just...get away.
We trek through the woods until the sounds of pursuit fade to silence, until the adrenaline starts to ebb and the pain of abused muscles makes itself known. Finally, when it feels like I can”t take another step, Grok guides us into a small, well-hidden cave.
The moment we”re out of sight, he hauls me back into his arms with a low, desperate sound. His mouth crashes over mine, hard and hungry, and I open for him with a needy whimper. We cling to each other in the darkness, hands roaming, relearning the shape and feel of the beloved body we”d each feared lost forever.
”I need you,” Grok rasps against my lips, his deep voice cracked and raw with a vulnerable ache that takes my breath. ”I need to feel you, taste you, breathe you in.” His massive hands tremble as he frames my face, calloused thumbs brushing my cheekbones with infinite care, like I”m something precious, cherished. ”I was so afraid, Lily. So afraid I”d lost you before I ever really had you.”
My heart clenches at the naked emotion in his eyes, the gleam of unshed tears. How long has this powerful male, this fierce ogre warlord, hidden such tenderness inside him? How badly have I misjudged him, misjudged my own heart?
”I”m here,” I whisper fiercely, surging up to press a fervent kiss to his lips. ”I”m here, Grok, and I”m not going anywhere. Not without you. Not ever again.”
He growls into my mouth, a low, needy sound that vibrates through me like a second heartbeat. Those big hands skim down my neck, over my shoulders, mapping every dip and curve until he reaches the tattered hem of my shirt. With a swift, impatient tug, he rips the flimsy fabric away, baring me to his avid gaze.
”Beautiful,” he rumbles, voice gone hoarse and ragged as he drinks me in. ”So damned beautiful, my Lily, my heart.”
Oh gods, the heat in his eyes, the raw reverence and aching hunger, steals my breath and sets my blood to boiling. I”ve seen Grok in the throes of battle-fever, lost to the berserk fury of his kind...but it”s nothing compared to the intensity, the immensity, of his passion now, focused solely on me.
It”s humbling, exhilarating, and I arch into his touch like a flower seeking the sun as his huge, warm hands mold over my breasts. He groans as if in pain when my nipples peak under his palms, the dusky tips hardening to aching sensitivity from the lightest brush of his skin on mine.
”Always yours,” I breathe, the words tearing from my throat on a ragged gasp as he dips his head to take one straining bud into the searing heat of his mouth. His tongue swirls and flicks, sending lightning streaking through my veins, gathering in a molten pool low in my belly. ”As you”re mine, Grok, my heart, my—oh!”
He nips gently and pleasure spirals tighter, hotter, whiting out my vision. But the, the words, the truth I”ve held back for so long, wells up inside me, fighting free of fear and insecurity.
”I love you,” I gasp out, tears springing to my eyes, my hands fisting in his wild mane of hair. ”I love you so much, Grok, so much it terrifies me.”
He goes still, so still that for a breathless, brittle second I”m sure I”ve ruined everything. That I”ve scared him, repulsed him, with the depth of my wanting, my weakness. The forbidden yearning of a human girl for a beast, a brute.
But then he surges up to capture my lips again, kissing me with a desperate ferocity that sears my soul. ”Lily,” he rumbles against my mouth, and his voice cracks on my name like it”s a prayer, a plea. ”My Lily, my beloved. I love you too, gods, I love you so much it unmakes me.”
Joy, sharp and bright as a blade, pierces my heart, shatters the last of my defenses. I kiss him back with equal abandon, winding my arms around his neck as if I can anchor him to me by sheer force of will.
We shed the rest of our clothes clumsily, impatiently, too desperate for the slide of skin against skin to bother with finesse. And then I”m straddling his lap, sinking down onto the thick, throbbing heat of him with a shuddering gasp. He fills me, stretches me, the slight edge of pain only sharpening my pleasure as I take him into my body as deeply as he”s invaded my heart.
”Grok,” I moan, head falling back on a ragged exhale as he hilts inside me, so hard and huge, the most delicious ache. ”Oh gods, Grok, yes...”
He snarls, a guttural sound of possession and savage pleasure, fingers biting into my hips as he rocks me on his length. The drag and glide of him, slick and searingly intimate, sends starbursts exploding behind my eyes, my inner muscles clenching greedily, hungry for more of the sweet, exquisite friction.
The pace he sets is slow but intense, rolling thrusts that spear me open, wind me tighter with every deliberate stroke. I meet his rhythm instinctively, rising and falling over him, nails scoring his shoulders as his teeth graze the column of my throat. Each brush of his tusks, blunt and dangerous, against my vulnerable skin sends a dart of heat arrowing to my core, a visceral reminder of the wildness, the otherness of my mate, my love.
My ogre, my everything.
The pressure builds, a sweet agony coiling tighter and tighter in my belly, my blood. Grok feels it, knows how close I am by the desperate pitch of my cries, the convulsive flutter of my sheath around him. His massive hand slides between our sweat-slick bodies, two thick fingers finding my aching clit and rubbing in slow, deliberate circles.
I keen high and sharp, icy, synapses firing, back bowing as the tension reaches a razor, excruciating pitch inside me. ”Come for me, little blade,” Grok rasps, his deep voice a lash of heat across my senses. ”Let me feel you, let me see you. My Lily, my love, my forever.”
As if his words are a key in a lock, my climax crashes over me, shattering me into a million molten pieces. I cry out his name as I come undone, spasming around his pistoning length, wave after wave of ecstasy whiting out my vision, my thoughts, my very self.
Dimly, distantly, I feel Grok stiffen, a rumbling growl tearing from his chest as his own end finds him, swift and inexorable in the rippling clasp of my body. Wet heat floods me, his thick ogre seed a pulsing claim, marking me as his inside and out.
We cling to each other as we come down, trembling, gasping. Grok presses his face into the crook of my neck, his breath scalding and ragged against my skin. I card my fingers through his hair, croon nonsense endearments as the aftershocks shiver through us both.
At last, when the sweat has begun to cool and our desperate grip on each other has gentled, he pulls back far enough to rest his forehead against mine. Amber eyes glowing in the dark cave meet my own, softened with wonder and the staggering weight of feelings too vast to be contained.
”I love you,” he says again, a solemn and sacred vow. ”Always and only, Lily, from this breath to my last. My woman, my mate, my miracle.” He tightens his arms around me like he”s afraid I”ll disappear if he lets go. ”When you were taken, it was like the world went gray. Like my soul got snuffed out with you gone.”
I shudder at the raw anguish in his voice, the remembered terror and helplessness. Catching his face in my hands, I lean in until our lips brush in the barest caress. ”I”m here,” I tell him fiercely. ”I will always fight my way back to you, Grok, always. You”re my heart, my home—there”s not a force in this world or any other that can keep me from you.”
Tears glimmer in his eyes and he crushes me closer, sealing that vow with a searing, sweetly desperate kiss that stakes his claim, his need, even as it pours out his devotion.
There in the dark, in the shelter of my beloved”s body, his heart, I know a peace, a rightness I”ve never felt before. Human and ogre, fragile flesh and steely strength, two halves of a whole, a mate bond that transcends the barriers of race and reason.
Bound by love.