Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“My mate,” Mol says, his face growing serious. “I have mated you.”
“She stays,” Gathra says.
“No. You don’t get to decide for all of us. I say we—”
“She stays.” I glance to the side and see Tigor step out of the shadows. He winks at me, then settles himself beside us, staring them all down. “Raven is one of us now. Anyone who disagrees is welcome to leave, but this is Lakktra territory. You want it, you fight us for it.”
There are mutterings and grumbles, and a few of those standing with Oran and Rag’yah switch sides. Then Athaan arrives.
Her eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks heat. She’s judging me, I can feel it. And how can I blame her?
“Athaan, I—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Raven is my sister. None of this is her fault. She’s carrying the next generation. Any of you motherfuckers want to argue about that, here I am. I’ll rip your fucking eyes out, you so much as come near her or my fucking nephew or niece.”
Utter silence greets her words.
Oran averts his eyes, his tongue glancing across his tusks. Then he nods and steps away from Rag’yah, coming to our side. Behind him, the last few remaining stragglers also head our way, leaving Rag’yah on his own.
“Dickhead,” Athaan mutters as Oran steps in beside us, punching him on the arm. “What were you thinking? You know none of this was Raven’s fault.”
“Sorry.” He turns his head my way. “Sorry, Raven. I guess I just needed someone to blame. It’s not your fault. You’re one of us.”
“It’s okay, I get it, I—”
“Damn right she’s one of us. And don’t you start apologizing to him, sis,” Athaan says, grinning. “He’s feeling guilty. Milk it. Have a slave for a few weeks.”
“What about you, Rag’yah?” Mol’s voice booms, despite his injuries. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it. “You with us or what?”
His words are met with silence. The big orc looks across all the faces, then finally settles on Gathra’s before turning his eyes down. “I’m not clearing up that mess with the bus,” he murmurs, then turns and stalks off into the darkness, and I feel Mol chuckling beside me.
“He’ll lick his wounds then he’ll be back,” Mol says. “As for us, I’m growing tired.”
“God, of course, you must be exhausted,” I tell him, trying to extricate myself from his arms.
“You’re going nowhere.”
“But you said—”
“Tired of talking,” he clarifies. Then without another word he turns away from the rest of the group, and his mouth meets mine.
Chapter
Eleven
Mol
“You are more beautiful than yesterday.” I stroke my cock as I watch her back up, step by step, naked into the pond.
“This place is beautiful.” The river rushes in the distance as she rubs her growing belly. “I’m one week pregnant and I already look like I’m ready to blow.”
“Orcs grow quickly but do not like to leave the warmth of their mother’s womb too soon. It will be a year before you give birth. Your belly will not grow much more. I will enjoy you like this more than I imagined.”
“Fork me. Really? I’m going to be like this for a year?” She throws her head back then falls, arms out, into the water.
“You are a very dramatic baby brat,” I say as I gather her favorite lemon berry shampoo and conditioner and wade out to where she’s floating on her back, belly round, her little tits more swollen as well, nipples tight already and leaking white milk.
“Well, come on, Daddy. There are some things to get used to.”
I pull her along into the deeper part of the pond until I’m chest deep in the water, then gather her against me and squeeze the shampoo into her long, black hair.
“Mmmmmm,” she moans, and fuck that sound never gets old. I lather her hair, enjoying taking care of her in every way.
I still fill her with seed and have oral many times a day.
The clan is calm right now. The NHC keep their distance, but we must be ever vigilant especially now that a new orc will be joining the clan. There is excitement within our group, there are few who have not warmed to my Selthe with her quick humor and painting talents. She’s done portraits for almost everyone and her colorful and fun artwork has brightened the world for all of us.
When I finish, she swims around the pond, chattering and busting my balls at every opportunity.
She is a brat, but she is also my baby, my Selthe, my Raven and above all my mate.
“Come.” I wave her in as I walk to shore, picking up a folded blanket then wrapping it around her shoulders as goosebumps rise over her skin. “Sit.” I lift her onto a stone wall so she is face to face with me, dark lashes dotted with drops of water.