He didn’t stand a chance.
Kaz’s back arched as the flat of his abdomen brushed the tip of her nose. By the time he’d pulled his hips back, he was already coming, painting her tongue, lips, and chin with pearly release.
Spots exploded in front of his eyes, but he still managed to watch her lick her swollen lips just fine.
Lightheaded, blissed out, and ravenous, Kaz had her up and on her feet in a blink. Then it was his turn to get on his knees. Slinging one of her thighs over his shoulder, he feasted until she was boneless and her throat hoarse from more than just a life-changing blowjob.
And when she slumped against him, warm, sated, and at last content, he felt a satisfaction he’d never experienced before. Atria rested her cheek against his chest, her arms looped around him, and sighed like he’d taken the weight of the world off of her shoulders.
Arranging her under the warm spray at last, Kaz stared down at his little mate and murmured, “I’ve got you, princess.”
ChapterThirty-One
Montana was beautiful.In fact, the entirety of the Orclind was stunning.
The Iron Chain, the mainly orcish government that governed the north and midwestern chunk of the United Territories and Allies, staunchly refused to over-develop. Much of the land was left wild, protected by an impenetrable net of laws, park systems, and trained rangers. The rest was cultivated carefully, worked by those people who followed the migration and moved from one homestead to another year-round.
Only a tiny slice of the territory was claimed by industry, cities, and privately owned land. Towns tended to be small and remote. That didn’t mean the entire territory was a backwater, though. Intricate systems of communication and a highly mobile population meant that even the tiniest towns had access to luxuries, healthcare, and a thriving tourist trade.
Atria normally loved driving through the Orclind. She adored the lovingly adorned caravans, the families she met at rest stops and diners. She enjoyed rolling down her windows and letting the bracing mountain air sting her cheeks. She found endless entertainment in stopping at those tiny hamlets, where handcrafted goods and hot meals awaited.
Normally, that is.
Now,she felt none of her usual pleasure. In the two days it took them to travel north, winding around major population centers and only making the most necessary stops, the only joy she found was in Kaz.
He didn’t say much, but she didn’t really want him to. Her mind felt too full of grief and worry to handle much conversation. Instead, she clutched him in any way she could. While he drove, she remained tethered, letting herself get lost in his steady current, and at night, she curled her arms around his brawny chest and held on for dear life, anchoring herself in his touch, scent, and warmth.
He whispered things to her in the dark. His voice was a low, rumbly purr when he told her how everything would be all right, that he would protect her, that Ruby was going to be okay, that nothing Norman did was her fault. He wasn’t great with words, her Kaz, but he wasthere.He seemed to sense that she needed him every second of the day — and rather than belittle her for it, he seemed to relish the way she clung to him day and night.
Atria didn’t know if she believed his assurances, though. Despair was dogged. So was self-pity and recrimination. For two days, she could do little more than sit there and stew in her worry and her failures.
If she’d agreed to accompany Ruby to Las Vegas, she might not have been swept off of the street.
If she paid attention to Norman’s warning signs, she might have been able to stop him from making m-siphons.
If she helped him when he clearly needed it, she might have been able to stop him from making the choices that ended his life.
On top of everything, she now feltstupid.
Atria was choked by the feeling the entire ride. It was partly why she struggled to speak to Kaz about anything more than where they would stop, what they should eat, whether she needed his firm, possessive touch between her thighs again.
Atria was utterly overwhelmed with her own foolishness. She was humiliated by how insistent she had been about going to the conference. It seemed so petty now that Norman was dead and Ruby was missing.
What’s the harm in waiting another few years to reveal our work? Why did it have to be done at the conference, anyway? Why couldn’t I have just waited?
She wanted to save people. She wanted to help the world. She wanted to make good on her vow. But what fucking good had it done? Because of her, fey had been imprisoned, the man she once loved was dead, the woman she considered her family was gone, and her mate was on the run.
Though her reasons were still valid, when compared to Ruby’s life orKaz’s…Atria couldn’t make that choice. High Priestess Desdemona, her chronically disappointed mother, was right. She was selfish to her very marrow and always had been.
Kaz had accused her of wanting to present at the conference out of spite. At the time, she’d been deeply offended by his easy dismissal, but now she wondered if he was right all along. How much of this was because she made a vow, one that would conveniently put her work on the world’s stage, where her mother and her brother would see it?
She’d been so certain before, but now everything was suspect. Atria had been shaken to her core. Watching the bolt end Norman’s miserable life had shattered something inside of her — some rigid wall of ignorance that kept her free of guilt.
Now that it was gone, the guilt and shame rushed in to pull her under. The only thing that kept her head above water was clinging to her half-orc.
She felt guilty for not listening to him, for Ruby’s disappearance, for Norman’s crimes, and for what she had pushed Kaz to do. Her selfishness had wrecked the lives of the people she cared about most — just as her mother had always warned her.
Kaz defied hissovereignfor her. He’d been shot at. He’d rescued her again and again, even when she fought him. She was his mate, and what had she done? Dragged him into a mess and then insisted he destroy his life to help her.
