The Midwife and the Orc: A Monster Fantasy Romance (Orc Sworn) by Finley Fenn

Author:Finley Fenn [Fenn, Finley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-19T16:00:00+00:00

20

Gwyn awoke to a warm, reassuring brightness. Pooling soft across her face, flaring orange behind her eyelids.

She yawned and stretched, blinking her eyes open — and found bright blue sky above, scattered with puffy white clouds. And closer, the wizened branches of that old tree, stretching out high above her, and — she twitched, and huffed a laugh — dripping water down onto her bare belly, as if in some sort of backhanded morning greeting.

And wait. It was morning. Meaning that she’d slept all night on an altar, fully naked? While Joarr had gone — where?!

She sat up, her heart hammering, her eyes frantically searching — but no, wait, Joarr was there. Here. Rising up swift and smooth from where he’d been crouching, just at the edge of the clearing, his hands covered with fresh earth.

And when Gwyn peered closer, she realized he’d been planting something. Something that looked vaguely familiar, with its distinctive clusters of yellow flowers, and wait, wait —

“Is that a piece of my yarrow?!” she demanded, her voice shrill. “And my motherwort?”

Joarr flashed her an easy half-grin, his hands brushing off the dirt. “Ach,” he said lightly. “My scouts begin this, last eve. I tell them to take good care, and bring only two to start, so you can judge their work, ach? They water all the plants in your house, also. And leave new note on table, in close copy of your hand, saying of new job. And, they bring more clothes.”

With that, he nodded toward the north, to where Gwyn could just make out a few familiar-looking dresses, fluttering in the breeze. And a warm, convulsive shiver was whirling up her spine, and she felt herself slowly smiling back at him, her face heating. He was, once again, keeping his word. Keeping her safe. Bringing her plants here. Helping her.

And as she kept smiling at him, the memories of the night before seemed to swarm up in a rush, clenching deep and hard in her belly. He’d worshipped her on an ancient altar. He’d called her beautiful. He’d said he wanted to get to know her. Her.

And gods, Gwyn wanted to believe it. Wanted to trust him so hard it ached. And she still had twenty days before Roy came back, nearly a month, an eternity…

So she drew in breath, and twitched a little jerk of her head. Meaning, maybe, Come here? And in return Joarr’s grin instantly broadened, showing off all his sharp teeth. Not smug, not mocking, but… warm. Wicked.

And as she watched, he brushed the rest of the dirt off his hands, and then sauntered over toward her. His steps smooth and prowling, his clawed fingers blatantly adjusting the thick, already visible ridge beneath the front of his cropped trousers.

Gwyn’s gaze snapped to the sight, her breath catching in her throat. And in return, he breathed a low, knowing laugh, and then reached down inside the trousers, and smoothly drew himself out. And then began stroking that solid grey length as

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