“It’s for your own good.”
“Don’t even try to tell me what’s good for me.” Her chin thrust out. “I’m not going. I can fight. Get me a gun or a knife or something.”
“I don’t have guns. We don’t fight with guns. They wouldn’t do anything but kill humans. They’re useless on Orcs and dragons. No sense in having them.”
Her body shook. He had just told her that he loved her, that he didn’t care if she could have kids or not, and now he wanted to send her away. She knew, really, she did, that he was just trying to save her life. But her life was there now; there was no going back. She could not go back. She could not lose him, not like this. She knew to stay would be asking to die. They were probably, all of them, going to die or be gravely wounded. She was not long-lived like a dragon. She had no ability to fight like he did. She could not fly. Her skin was not armor.
But none of those things would be enough to protect him either. She had to be there. Had to. There was no way she could leave and never know, really never know, if he died, if the Orcs had won, and if he had died still loving her.
Blake reached for her. “Don’t do this, Christy. I can’t let you stay. I love you. I don’t want you to die here.”
Her lips shook. “I don’t want to die here either. I want…” Her eyes filled with tears. “I want to have your babies. I want to live with you, in this castle or in your parents’ house. I want to watch you be a father. I want all of that, and I know we may never get any of it now because of the Orcs. But I won’t leave here and you, not like this. I love you, and people who love each other don’t run away when things get hard.”
He shouted, “This isn’t hard! It’s war, and there’s a difference! You could die!”
“Then maybe we should agree to have each other’s backs. Or you should get me a knife. A big one. Because I’m staying. I can bet you Heather won’t go either. That’s not happening, and I damn sure am not running away from this, or from you—not anymore.”
Blake came toward her. His eyes shone. His hands caught her and pulled her close. She rested against his chest. Her breasts flattening against the wide and strong expanse of his chest. He said, “Why do you have to be so damn brave?”
“It’s just the way I am.”
He stroked a hand over her hair. “I know. Dammit, I know. I want you to go, I do. I’m scared I will lose you.”
“I’m scared I will lose you too. That’s why I can’t.”
“I know.” His hands kept smoothing her hair away from her face, but that didn’t soothe the agony in her heart. She was not going; she was not going anywhere. That she was willing to die for him said everything she had ever wanted to say and didn’t know how. “I wish you would, but I’m glad you’re going to stay.”
Tears ran down her face then. She was not even thirty years old. She was going to be in a war, and she had no words to say anything at that moment, so she just lifted her face. Their lips met, and she felt desire stroke its heat through her body, making her lean into that kiss.
His hands slid down her shoulders and then rested against the angles of her waist. The heat and weight of his hands felt so right, so perfect. Like they had been made to fit her body; like they had been carved from some magical form to fit her skin and hers alone.
His mouth was demanding that time, all heat and fire. Her whimper was one of desire and need, surrender and love. His fingers slid lower still and then he pulled her closer, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks just a little as he brought her pelvis against his. The feel of him, hard and hot and swollen with lust, made her whimper yet again. Wetness leaked from her core, spreading along her lower lips as he tugged at the gown, lifting it over her head and discarding it. His full lips moved along her neck and then fastened around one of her nipples. That flesh hardened in his mouth, and her hands went to his broad chest before moving upward so her fingers could curl over his broad shoulders.
She managed to tug his shirt over his head and feel his flesh against her fingertips and palms. Pure heat rose from his skin and seeped into hers, and she reveled in that heat, danced closer to it as he picked her up and carried her to the bed.
His hands moved along her body, spreading sensation as well as that heat and her legs parted as his hands delved between her thighs, spread them and sought out her wet and slippery lips and then moved inside her, two fingers opening her tight inner folds as his head ducked lower and his tongue found her tender spot.
She cried out, her words a plea to touch him, to taste him, and he slid his trousers off and reversed himself so that his flesh, that throbbing and hard flesh of his organ, was right above her lips. She took him in, her tongue licking at his head while she swallowed him.
His tongue moved back and forth across her, sending sensation lancing into her body. Her fingers clutched at him even as she let the slightly salty flavor of his member fill her throat and rest on her tongue. Her eyes closed and she shivered, her inner thighs quivering as his fingers and lips and tongue worked together to send her hurtling toward an orgasm.
He moved, changing his position right before she could come. His staff slid into her body, and his fingers went to her flesh as his mouth tasting of her sugary folds, came down on hers. Her groan was muffled by his mouth and her legs wrapped around his waist, her back arching upward and her ass jerking as the orgasm hit, sending spasms running through her as her walls clenched and opened around his pulsing rod.
He twitched, and hot, sticky seed splashed into her body. The feeling of it, so heated and thick as it mingled with her juices, made her cry out again. He braced himself above her and found her mouth a final time, but that time the kiss was soft, gentle, and spoke everything that they had yet to say.
He withdrew slowly and pulled her close. His lips found her forehead and his hands smoothed her hair. He said, “I don’t want you to die.”
She let her head turn so that she could see his face. “I don’t want you to die either. In fact, you better not die. If you die, I swear to God I will find someone who can do some spell that will resurrect you just so I can kick your ass for leaving me.”
His lips trembled. Then laughter poured from his mouth. “That’s…quite the incentive to stay alive.”
“I hope so.” She snuggled into his body. “I meant it when I said I love you. I never should have left the first time.”
He stroked a hand down the span of her ribs. “I was the one who sent you away. Max and I both thought, well, we thought that you and Heather didn’t want to be here.”
“How come you didn’t come to get me like he came to get her?”
“I was afraid you would say no. I could not take that. You have no idea how much of a coward I felt like when you showed back up. I felt like I had somehow let you down, like I should have done just that.”
