Chapter Six
Beatrice
The path grows steeper after the ridge. My legs are screaming, my boots are soaked through, and I’m pretty sure I’ve been bitten by at least three different kinds of bugs. The sun’s gone, the sky is lavender and bruised, and my thighs are chafing like hell.
But I’m free.
I slipped out while everyone was in the great hall and guards were switching posts for the dinner shift.
It was even easier than I anticipated. No one glanced my way, and though I kept expecting someone to stop me or come looking, I’d spent so many nights eating supper alone in my rooms that missing dinner wasn’t unusual for me.
Every miserable step is one more away from that stinkhole of sweat, testosterone, and overgrown Bull egos.
And him. Good riddance.
I grit my teeth and push harder up the incline, boots sliding on slick leaves. I definitely won’t miss him.
Especially not the arms.
Or his deep, smoky voice.
Ugh! I shove the thought away. My traitorous brain never did know when to shut up.
The stream appears between the trees like a miracle, glittering silver under the dusk.
I nearly collapse beside it, dropping my satchel and cloak in a heap.
My whole body sags, trembling, aching. I’m soaked in sweat.
Dust clings to every inch of me like a second skin, but it’s not just my legs or back that hurt.
My breasts ache. They’re heavy and full.
Throbbing with each breath. I wince as I shift, crossing my arms over my chest, as if pressure alone could dull the pain.
But it doesn’t help. The fabric of my shirt scrapes against my nipples, each movement a low, dragging pulse of discomfort that refuses to be ignored.
I should’ve taken the herbs.
Annie offered them more than once, but no, I had to be stubborn and prove I didn’t need anything from anyone. Not even relief from my own pain. And now, I’m paying for it.
The weight in my chest pulses again, hot and tight, like something might split if I don’t ease it soon. I glance around, making sure I’m well and truly alone.
Kneeling beside the water, rolling up my sleeves with trembling fingers, I splash cool handfuls over my flushed skin, gasping as it hits my neck, my face, the inside of my arms. Then, with a frustrated sigh, I tug at the laces of my shirt and I pull it open.
The cool air kisses my skin, and a shiver rolls through me, goosebumps blooming in its wake. I inhale sharply, not because of the cold, but because of the sweet, aching relief.
My breasts are taut, nipples dark and swollen, the skin hot to the touch. I cradle one gently, cupping both hands beneath the weight of it, then settle into the rhythm.
It hurts at first. It always does. A deep, dragging sort of pain that shoots straight through me. But slowly, the pressure begins to fade. The fullness starts to ease.
And of course, that’s when he slips into my mind.
Silas.
The heat between my thighs pulses in time with each slow, deliberate pull, and I bite my lip.
I finish one side then move to the other, closing my eyes.
I should think about anything else, but the darkness behind my lids conjures him again.
That serious mouth, those broad shoulders, I wonder if his stoic demeanor would shatter if I ever let him close enough to touch me.
My breath hitches as I imagine his low growl in my ear, the weight of him pressing me down, the thick, heavy length of him—
I breathe through it.
When I’m done, I rinse off again, tie my shirt closed, and wipe my face on the edge of my cloak. I lay out my bedroll on a patch of moss beneath a cedar and shove some bread in my mouth like it might muffle the thoughts I don’t want. The stars blink above me as I stare up at the sky.
I don’t miss him, or wonder what might’ve happened if I’d just let him touch me….
I shift under the blanket, curling into myself, arms over my chest. The night sounds settle around me: crickets, wind through the trees, the stream whispering nearby.
…Is that a wolf howling?
Gods Beatrice, get it together.
You’re safe. You’re free.
I tell myself that another three times, just to make it sink in. Then I close my eyes, letting the ache in my chest and between my thighs drag me into sleep.
I don’t even know what wakes me at first. One second, I’m dreaming of a blue door, the next, rough hands are on me, yanking the blanket away like they mean to tear me straight out of my skin.
“Hey! What the hells?!” I snap, thrashing like a wildcat in a trap, and then the moonlight hits their faces…green skin, tusks. These are Orcs. Real, live, actual Orcs.
The tallest one crouches down, tilting his head as he studies me. There’s something calculating in his golden eyes. “She’s not human,” he says, almost to himself.
“What?” another grunts.
The leader grins. “You smell it, don’t you? Sweet milk.” His nostrils flare as he leans close. “A Hucow.”
The others mutter in surprise.
“They start producing when they come of age, even without bearing young,” the leader continues. “The human nobles pay silver by the ounce for one of their kind. Even the Minotaurs keep them locked away like treasure.”
I spit in his face. “I’m not your prize, you filthy beast.”
He wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, still grinning. “You’ll be whatever I decide you are.” He looks over his shoulder at the others. “Take her. The chief will want to see this one.”
A scream claws up my throat, but it barely gets out before one of them clamps a hand over my mouth. Another grabs my legs. I fight harder, harder—kicking, scratching, doing anything—but they lift me like I weigh nothing.
My chest aches, and my breasts leak painfully as they jostle me in their grip. They carry me off while I struggle against their hold, twisting and writhing as best I can. Every time they shift me, the ache in my chest flares worse.
After a while, the hand over my mouth slips just enough, and I bite down hard. He howls, jerking his hand back. “She bit me!”
“Put me down, you over-sized lizards!” I snarl, “I swear, I’ll rip your tusks out and stuff ‘em where the sun don’t shine!”
The three of them exchange grins, sharp tusks gleaming as they chuckle.
“She’s got spirit,” the tallest one rumbles. “Good. We like that.”
“Relax,” says the one carrying me, his voice almost gentle despite his hulking frame. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“You should be more worried about me hurting you!”
All three burst into laughter again.