He lay back on the bed, guiding me over him—my body hovering above his mouth while he positioned me so my facealigned with his cock. A devilish smile curved across his lips, sending a thrill through me.
He lowered my hips until his mouth closed around my swollen clitoris, sucking with a hunger that made my back arch. My moan was muffled by his cock between my lips. The warm, salty taste of his skin urged me to take him deeper, until the tip brushed the back of my throat. We fell into a shared rhythm: his hands steady on my waist, holding me in place, while my arms braced above him.
The sensation of giving and receiving pleasure at the same time was overwhelming. Soon, I hovered on the edge of release, my core tightening. When he slid two fingers inside me, the tension snapped, and pleasure tore through me with a snarl.
Before I could bring him with me, Malek flipped me over and pressed me into the mattress, lifting my hips.
He thrust inside me in one powerful motion, the depth forcing a gasp from my lips.
"You were made for me," he growled before sinking his fangs into my shoulder.
The bite sent a shock through my body, triggering another orgasm before I could recover from the last. Malek’s rhythm grew relentless. He rolled me onto my stomach, never breaking our connection, driving into me with fierce intensity. The bed creaked beneath us, joining the raw sounds torn from our throats.
When my core clenched again, he gripped my hips tighter, thrusting faster, his breath hot against my ear. His body trembled, and then the knot at his base began to swell, locking him deep inside me. The climax crashed over us in a surge of sensation. My body shuddered violently, and the last thing I heard was Malek’s guttural roar as he spilled inside me.
We remained joined, breathless, hearts pounding in unison.
"My Ruk’hai," I whispered, turning my head to kiss him.
He said nothing. Instead, he tightened his arm around me and pulled the furs over us, shielding our bodies from the chill of the night.
???
In all my years, I had never imagined I would march to war beside my ancestors’ mortal enemies, toward a land that had stood as our ally for centuries.
As a child, I remembered hearing tales of warriors who fought for the supposed freedom of our people. They spoke of glorious invasions, of how they bravely advanced into orc territory and drove them from their ancestral homes, pushing them deeper into the heart of Marukoksha until nothing remained but forests to swallow them whole.
Hatred had been taught to us from birth, passed from parent to child as a bitter inheritance. No one questioned why the orcs never launched full assaults against us, why they fought only to defend what was already theirs.
I doubted I would ever stop feeling ashamed of that truth.
They had been painted as monsters to justify endless wars and constant militarization. Yet the reality was simple: the orcs lived upon land we had coveted for generations, and ambition—not survival—had driven our conflicts.
Now, beyond rescuing my father and restoring order in Ceilte, my mission carried another purpose: ensuring that Oksha and the other orc clans of Lyraen had their rights recognized. Enough senseless battles. Enough destruction without meaning.
The orc troop, led by Malek, moved with speed and discipline that impressed even me. Their thick leather armor and polished axes gleamed faintly in the darkness. Determination was etched into every face.
Malek walked at the front, his towering presence guiding the column. His war axe rested across his shoulder, ready for battle. Every line of his posture radiated authority—broad shoulders squared, jaw set, gaze fixed ahead. He never needed to look back to confirm that his warriors followed. He already knew they would.
That level of loyalty was something even my father had struggled to command among the High Fae.
My own double-handed axe—smaller than Malek’s but still heavy—rested against my shoulder. I wore Okshai war attire, my skin painted with protective runes meant to strengthen body and spirit. For the first time in my life, I felt like a true warrior.
We advanced through the night, the forest muffling the sound of our footsteps against damp earth. Hours passed without pause until Leone and the army of Ceilte came into view.
We met in a clearing near Ceilte’s western border. Compared to the orcs, the fae soldiers marched in disciplined formations, their movement precise and measured.
The guards wore golden armor marked with the crest of Ceilte. Tension rippled through their ranks when they saw the Okshai warriors—many faces recognizing enemies they had fought in years past. Malek lifted his chin, pride sharpening his stance.
Leone approached atop a towering white horse that stood out starkly against the dark forest. When he saw us, he dismounted with graceful ease and strode forward.
"Sister." He smiled, dropping the formal mask of the heir for a heartbeat. "Brother-in-law."
Malek raised an eyebrow at the title but offered no objection.
"Leone." I clasped his forearm in greeting.
"I see Malek wasted no time." His gaze swept over my leather armor and painted runes. "The braids suit you."
