8 #3
He had a soul as black as the night sky.
She would do well to remember that, no matter how it was that he had been hurt, no matter how badly others had treated him, he was a monster.
Not because he was an orc, but because of the things he did.
“I would not have galloped off with you, anyway. I couldn’t have left my sister here with Celedin. ”
“I would have taken your sister,” he muttered.
“Oh, where is she while you’re deflowering me in front of the fire, then?”
“I don’t know. This did not really happen.”
“No, I know that, because it never would,” she said. “You could have tried to carry me off before, and you never did.”
“Certainly, I did. You could not jump the train!”
She had forgotten about that.
“You agreed to marry him,” he muttered. “You were going to give yourself to him and—”
“You went and lay with Nathre!” The rays of dawn smite her, her voice cracked.
“You know that Nathre meant nothing to me.” His voice was dull.
“Yes, nothing, and that is why you went across that pass after her when you knew you could not come back!”
He slid his thick gray-green fingers over his massive jaw. “She was carrying my child, what was I supposed to do?”
“Funny time for you to develop some sense of honor, that is all I am saying,” she said. “And I didn’t go to bed with anyone else, you know?” She slapped her palm against her chest. “I sat here and waited until you came and raped me in front of everyone.”
“Waited?” He was incredulous. “You were going to let Celedin have you tonight.”
“Well, I had no choice,” she said. “And you didn’t give me a choice either, not today. You just did it. And now I can never give that to anyone, because you’ve taken it, once and for all, forever. That was my maidenhead. That was that. It’s over now, and I’m worthless.”
He groaned. “Oh, shadows of the forest preserve us, you are overreacting about all of this, because none of it matters. The orcs are invading. Every single high-ranking elf woman—stewardess and wardenness and elf lord’s daughter—from here to Renegahan is going to be taken by some orc or other.
And the entire country is going to fall.
And it won’t matter whether you’re worthless or not, because there won’t be anything left.
This is what I’m trying to talk about, and you keep making it about you. ”
“Oh, how deeply self-absorbed of me to be angry about this!” She advanced on him and shoved him.
He seized her hands. “Don’t do that.”
“I hate you,” she said. It had been a bad idea to touch him at all, a bad idea because being close made things inside her lurch.
“I know. I hate you, too.” He swallowed, looking at her lips. “Anyway, who cares if you’re worthless to elf men?”
“Don’t you think about kissing me, you fiend,” she growled.
Because she was thinking about kissing him, thinking about all the times she had kissed him, thinking about the sheer size of his shoulders, the way his black hair fell carelessly around his fine features, the dark gleam in his expressive eyes.
Her body was reacting in awful, awful ways.
She should not feel this way about him, no matter if she had before. It should not happen again.
“Because you’re mine,” he said.
“I am not.” No, no, no.
“And I’ll kiss you if I want to—”
“You will not, because I will bite your lips off and then I will push you right off this turret to your death.” She was out of breath. Her dress was too tight.
“Oh, yes, you’re going to kill me.” He snorted. “I’m sure that’s going to happen.”
“You do not think I would?” she said, and her whole body felt as if it was going to explode. That was what this man did to her.
He seized her face in one hand, much like he’d done earlier that day, when he’d told her that he hated her. He held her in place.
She hit him, beat her fists against his chest, and it was just like earlier, just like when he’d forced himself on her.
“If you force me to kiss you now, I will kill you. It might not be now, and it might not be anytime soon, but someday, you will let down your guard and you will think that I have forgiven you, because you think I will forgive you anything, and I will kill you.”
“Will you?” His face loomed close, his lips inches from her. “How will you do it?” His voice was rough.
She could not catch her breath. “I’ll smother you with a pillow.”
“We’ll be sharing a bed, I suppose?”
“Curse you to the orc underworld itself.”
“Nilhaem,” he supplied. “It’s called Nil—”
And she moved forward and captured his lips with hers, and he let go of her face and enfolded her into an embrace, and his tongue moved slippery against hers, and he still tasted the same, still tasted like he belonged to her, and—
She shoved him.
He staggered backward, colliding with the turret.
For one awful moment, she thought he was going to lose his balance and tip backward, but he clutched at the stone and righted himself.
They just stared at each other for several moments.
He ran a hand through his long black hair. “You’ll kill me or I’ll kill myself, but one way or the other, you are going to be the death of me.” He stalked past her, off the turret, leaving her alone up there.
She touched her lips, shaking her head, scolding herself for her weakness.
That man.