Finding Her Heart (Orki War Bride #2)

by Isoellen

  The sound of his purr went louder in her ears, as loud as she had heard so far. He squeezed at her neck, gentle pressure holding her air. Increasing second by second, until the edges of her vision went black, her core rocking with spasms. Doku-ni didn't stop as the black creeped into her vision. Reflexes activate and she kicked, struggling until her oxygen supply dwindled to nothing. His hold prevented escape. Dark swallowed her up, and Annabell lost consciousness.

  *

  She awoke, disoriented, when Doku-ni splashed water on her cheeks and over her dry lips. Lukewarm, the stuff barely satisfied her thirst. She drank before fully conscious, wanting the flavor to change, expecting it to. She ached for the taste of her Orki on her tongue, for his smell in her mouth and down her to her belly, for a liquid her instincts told her would satisfy her need. It was the weirdest craving of her entire life. This sickness turned her into a sex-crazed cannibal, wanting to consume him and be consumed. The unwanted water streamed down her parched throat, sloshing and heavy. It wasn't right.

  "What did you do to me?" she asked.

  Of course, he couldn't answer, just gave her a chest grunting sound.

  The dark fur of the war beast pressed against Annabell, helping her to stand after her and Doku-ni dismounted. When the blanket covering slipped from one shoulder, Doku-ni took the opportunity to touch her everywhere, as if for an inspection. He didn't linger long enough at her breasts, waist, or bottom. It would be so good if he just put his hands where she needed them. The incidental touch against her nipples caused them to stiffen and burn. She whimpered in response, begging, "Please."

  He gave her a grunt. When his hand passed over her hips, then between her thighs, her strength melted. Her core in his hand, he supported her full weight, standing there where anyone could see. The blunt end of his middle finger rested right at her small hole, testing the slippery wet of her arousal.

  The intrusion set her off. All the places she liked to be touched, blasting her brain with mixed signals of pleasure-pain. A hard, inexplicable contraction rang her body like a bell, the orgasm taking her by surprise, occurring for no reason at all other than the mere suggestion.

  Annabell cried out, clinging to him. When he pulled his hand away, drenched with her essence, he gave her his biggest smile yet, pleased with himself. He held up his hand to show her the glossy substance before licking his palm clean.

  The wolfish beast stayed close to them, making noise as if giving Doku-ni a talking-to. Annabell leaned into the animal, trusting Zerzer to take her weight. Taking one of Annabell's hands, Doku-ni set it on the saddle, giving her a meaningful glance. In silence, he reminded her not to look around, but keep her face forward.

  The instant he stepped away, Annabell wanted to call him back, cry out. Everything in her protested him walking away from her. Biting her lip, she hid her face against her arm and the saddle, withholding tears of insecurity.

  It was crazy.

  This Orki affected her.

  And she was sick. Something was wrong. A weird and terrible stomach sickness ruled her mind and body, turning her insides mushy, her outside feverish, and her mind to sex. Out in the middle of nowhere, no medicine or doctor, maddened with a desire to do things to the male who had taken her off on the adventure of a lifetime. She was out of her element and without control.

  He'd cut off her air until she passed out!

  Put her to sleep and silenced the raging ache beneath her skin.

  Since he didn't speak, she assumed the purposeful act of setting her hand on Zerzer explained his expectations while he went elsewhere. Look straight ahead, at nothing, and no one else. Wait. She could do that. Movement that didn't involve satisfying her cravings hurt. She couldn't lift her head to look where the Orki had gone.

  She hated this. She'd only rarely been sick as a child, and Mama always knew what to do. That first year of her woman's cycle, before Mama died, had been especially hard. A lighter version of what she felt now. Her mother clucked and fussed and gave her lots of hot, sweet things to drink. A memory surfaced of snuggling into bed, three warming bottles lined up along her midsection, Mama humming, spooning bitter medicine into Annabell's mouth. Watered down and honey-sweetened. She hadn't liked the oily stuff. But it made her feel better. Her mama tested the warmth of the heated cow hide warming bottles. "Well, Annabell Roe, they say that when the heat takes a girl young, it is a sign she is a natural Orki bride. Would you like that?"

  Sweetly indulgent, Mama's soft smile curved her lips. Annabell had forgotten that smile, the pleasant tones of her speaking voice. A wisp of a smoky memory-then-gone. How had she forgotten that?

  Returning, Doku-ni gave Zerzer water. Zerzer complained in a series of beastly grumbles and whines. Her rider grunted back. More than once she'd seen Doku-ni move his hands in deliberate shapes, communicating.

  Unexplained tension surged through Zerzer's muscles under Annabell's hands where she leaned on her. Something captured the beasts' attention. Annabell buried her face in Zerzer's side. Capable of doing damage, of taking care of himself, Doku-ni could deal with it. Annabell had no energy and wasn't supposed to see anything beyond her nose. She heard the back-and-forth conversation of war beasts. Grass swished and rocks moved as the beasts reposition themselves.

  She didn't care. At all. If the hunting party of twelve Orki surrounding her lacked the ability to take care of whatever kind of upset was happening, then she was going to die anyway. At least she would feel better. Orki warriors joined the conversation. There was movement around her, shifting. Zerzer huffed and made noises. With her ear pressed against Zerzer's side, Annabell heard new variations in the war beast's vocalizations, the dense variety of tones more noticeable.

  Finally, Doku-ni returned to her, his hands closing on her waist. She relaxed, let him move her back onto the war beast. His touch eased the building tension under her skin. The remedy for her current affliction, she wanted to crawl inside him and wrap him around herself. She hurt when he wasn't touching her and holding her—making that calming noise for her. But when he was doing all those things, the ache to take him inside of her grew in waves of greed. This wasn't enough. Only fucking was going to be enough. The frustration of not being close enough increased in tandem with the relief he gave her, in a juxtaposition of needs Annabell couldn't make sense of.

  Strong and steady, the male sat her down how he wanted her, refusing to indulge any of her cravings. The loping gait of travel to wherever they were going started again. And with it, that buildup of madness. Restless, she smoothed her hands back and forth over his skin. She licked and bit and rubbed.

  This ongoing rejection was agony. Rational brain taking flight, Annabell fell from one tormented emotion to the next, faster than Zerzer covered the land. "I need you to do something. I need you."

  He replied with his deep-chested one-grunt.

  "What does that mean?" she asked. Her voice crackled with irritation. She wanted that thing he had done with his fingers and tongue. She'd woke up wanting it and he decided they had to travel. Choked unconscious, she woke wanting it then too, but he was off doing something else. Maybe he didn't understand that it hurt, that she knew he could make it stop hurting.

  Another grunt.

  Not the answer she wanted. "Did you take me just so you could watch me fall apart?"

  Shifting in the seat, Doku-ni dug into one of the pouches at his waist. It was not the right kind of shifting. She bit the skin on his chest, not even sure he could feel it. After digging between them, his knuckles brushing bare skin, he pulled out a little clay vessel topped in wax. It was one of the popular Orki trade goods. Annabell recognized it. Contained inside of the little jar, made from plants in Original territory, was a pain reliever and sleep-inducing oil. Mama taught Annable to use the remedy for her cycle. Gently touching her cheek to get her attention, Doku-ni rubbed off the seal, holding it up for her to smell.

  He must have gone to get some from another Orki at their last stop. A familiar herbal scent wafted u
p. He lifted it to her mouth, wanting her to drink. She'd never taken it that way. The stuff was potent. It might make her sleep for days.

  Which, considering her current state, that option sounded nice. Maybe she would sleep and wake feeling like herself again. Maybe she would wake from this dream. Or nightmare. Or whatever this feeling of unreality was. She chose to trust him, hoped he understood human bodies, and let him pour the bitter mix onto her tongue. Gratefully accepting the water skin, she washed the taste down.

  Her tongue went numb first, followed by her throat. In her stomach, the oily stuff cooled her fever with a creeping frost. Next, her cramps faded, as the chilling oil spread out, bringing relief to her nausea with it. Annabell brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling a cough. Now was not the time to be emptying her stomach all over herself. Doku-ni lowered his head, sniffing and smelling her, before enclosing his hand around her throat and stroking fingers down her jugular. That was how he caused her to pass out and the touch should have made her nervous, but it soothed her need to gag, calming her. Trying to figure out how that worked, pressed into his chest, she relaxed into the peace of sleep.

  *

  Burning. She was on fire. Annabell couldn't stand it. Filmy and blurred, her eyes refused to focus when she opened them. Her head hurt again, she had cramps from her belly to her knees, and she couldn't see. New softness surrounded her, bumpy, lumpy, in the wrong place. The fur pelt rasped in irritation instead of lying smooth. The blanket she used was thin and flat when she wanted full and soft. Growling with frustration, not sure if she was awake or asleep—and not caring about it either way—she attacked the blankets and furs in the shallow indent she found herself in. It wasn't right. She would fix it. Extra smells and textures bombarded her senses. They didn't belong here, and she didn't want them. Who had dared put them in her bed? These were not hers. Once and for all, she would beat this bed into submission.

  "There are no treats for wicked girls who don't do their chores," Mama said.

  A proper bed meant a proper rest. Annabell always made her bed fresh every day to climb into at the beginning of each night. She did not know what had happened here.

  A grunt and a growl from Doku-ni made her stop and look up from the task to see why he interrupted. Doku-ni. Her white Orki.

  Beefy arm slipping around her waist, he lifted her, sitting down with her in his lap, next to the blurred shape of a waterskin and a wooden plate and bowl of obnoxious smelling food. Did he think she wanted to eat? It would be time to sleep again soon, and this bed had to be fixed.

  He squirted a little water from the pouch onto her face. Hot enough to make steam rise, Annabell licked her lips—still the wrong stuff. She groused at him, leaning to fix the out-of-place blanket on her left. At the same time, she realized she was sitting in the curve of his lap facing outward, on top of interesting shapes and textures.

  Her male was nude.

  He pushed the water against her lips again.

  "Not thirsty." The offer irritated because it was the wrong one. She yearned for an undefined taste and nutrient that she didn't know how to get. Turning her face into Doku-ni's arm, she inhaled his musk. This smell—taste in a bottle. She hummed, nuzzling in, rubbing her lips back and forth against the texture of his flesh. Smooth everywhere, even over the perfect slices of scars, she needed to kiss and lick. He smelled edible in a way a man shouldn't smell. She wanted to bite him. She tried to turn around, get more of him.

  His second grunt, louder, held warning in it reinforced by his tightening arm.

  "Why are you always shoving water in my face?" Pouty that he wouldn't do a single damn thing that she wanted, Annabell accepted the offer. Sloppily drinking the stuff, she let it spill down her chin. It did feel good on her skin, at least.

  He put a small piece of Orki cake in her mouth before she could pin her lips shut. "No. That's the wrong stuff. Don't you have anything that smells like you?" Doku-ni activated her appetite. A salty, woodsy, warm musk and spice. Mouthwatering. Annabell craved every origin point of the delicious smell. Taste it, lick it up. She knew the drink would be delicious.

  But he would not give it to her. His big hand fisted the mess of her hair, holding her up, demanding her attention. The sting of the pull and his control started a rippling wave down her spine into her core. A wordless signal her body understood. Annabell strained to catch up with the message.

  "What do you want from me? What do I need to do?" If she did what he wanted, maybe he would do what she wanted. Focusing, she bent her gaze on the fierce intensity of his expression. Like the night before, when he'd put himself right between her legs to drive her insane, his intense devotion captured her.

  He held up three nut-sized bright orange little balls in his fingers. Food? Slipping it into his mouth, Doku-ni bit it in half, showing her a juicy, fragrant fruit. Annabell didn't want it. Should not want it. But now, the citrus-smelling food was suddenly appealing. It had been in his mouth.

  Her lips parted in acceptance.

  The critical voice in her head murmured with discontent. She ignored it, sucking at the fruit to find Doko-ni's flavor. Bite by bite, she ate everything he gave her, asking for more. There was no part of this male she could reject. Not any bit of his smell or essence. She wanted him on her, inside her, around her, taking her, using her, marking her. Scooting back against him, tipping her head to the side in acquiescence, she let him feed her, mesmerized as each piece went from his mouth to hers.

  With her legs spread wide over his, her hips moved involuntarily, grinding down, seeking pressure against her aching center. This was the cure for her sickness, for the relentless passion and arousal. She wanted to fit her feminine to his masculine. Pressure built with every moment he kept her from what she wanted.

  Having been a wife, growing up on a farm, and with six brothers, she understood the male form. That long, thick bar of flesh underneath her bottom was his cock. Proportionate to his size, he must be as big as the bull that mounted her heifer. Hot and smooth, it teased her puffy female delta. The sickness caused swelling; the area felt oversensitive, pink, and bee-stung. A flash of memory hit her hard. The glimpse she had caught of her sister-in-marriage the night before, Lurann on hands and knees being taken from behind with a heavy, oversized male organ.

  Wanting his cock too much to be afraid of it, she spread her thighs wider, pressed down deeper, searching for the right position. He fed her; she ate, her hips circled and danced. Slick with their essence, his member slipped between the folds of her vulva, a delicate tease of skin on skin, hitting her pleasure receptors just right before sliding away. Bracing her hands on his thighs, Annabell chased that feeling, desperate to find it again. Her naked chest bobbed, heavy, her nipples throbbing with her heartbeat.

  She forgot herself completely. Forgot worries and woe. A woman of need, in need, her greed recognizing no boundaries. Annabell was famine, and Doku-ni was her feast. Moaning, she hunted his cock, rolling her hips. Wet dripped from her over his lap. There was no time to be ashamed of it, or confused by the amount of it.

  Finally, his hands enclosed her waist. She loved that. The gesture filled her with emotion—the of meaning that her heart instantly recognized. Guiding her down, he arched up, his cock again finding that perfect position. Annabell rocked back and forth on it, leaning forward more, moving her hands to his knees, seeking the pressure on the peak of nerves at the top of her slit. The feeling of his manhood against her drenched womanhood quivered through her body with redolent, gorgeous pleasure. Back and forth she moved, panting.

  His hands curved down her back, over her spine to where she rubbed him. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him reach to the side, a blur of motion, a flash of orange, scooping up more of the hard, little citrus fruits. Fingers at her folds, finding her center, one by one he put them inside of her.

  The action robbed her of words.

  But he wouldn't let her hide. Wouldn't let her escape the knowledge of what he intended to do. He held one up, then mad
e her count each one, saying the number aloud before they disappeared. At first, she only felt the way his fingers pressed against her flesh, the way he teased the opening to her womb. The idea of it, the unconventional, strange, dirty of it, made her sob in conflicted agony. Desiring everything he did, but not knowing why, unable to ask him to stop.

  If he stopped, she'd die.

  One by one, he put each of the fruits inside of her. "Twenty-two." She said the number, crying. Shoving them deep with his fingers, the rolling, tumbling things filled up her empty. It was so wrong, yet she lacked all the reasons to protest. The sensation was strange, but not unpleasant.

  Twenty-two of them. Inside. Oh, moons. Twenty-two.

  If she held still, she felt nothing. But it was impossible to hold still. Every twitch from her thighs, her abdominals, or the muscles inside made twenty-two little orange fruits move.

  It was profane. Obscene.

  But she quivered all over, shaking, hanging on the edge of sanity.

  Finished stuffing her, the bowl empty, Doku-ni stroked the engorged petals of flesh between her legs. With the lightest touches, he pet her wet, drenched vulva. Sliding fingers over her peak, around, on the sides, he gave her no satisfaction. It all felt good, but it wasn’t where or what she needed.