For the second time that evening, he held her against his chest and then placed her down carefully on the furs he gave her the first night they spent together. They were the best he had, and had pained him at the time to give them away as freely as he had, but was now grateful for his foresight.
“Stay,” he commanded her just as she had commanded him outside. “As much as it pains me that you would deny me this vengeance, I will submit, but only because you need tending to. This Miller and his son and whoever else has wronged you will pay for their transgressions. Not tonight, but mark my words. They will pay.”
There was a slight moment he could see her hesitate before her gaze met his, but he was distracted by the blush fanning her cheeks and the nod of her head, stating her agreement to his proclamation.
After heading outside to fill a bowl with fresh water, he grabbed a small fur cloth used for cleaning and approached his female. Kneeling at her feet, he placed a hand above the edge of her clothing, waiting for her approval.
Her fingers reached out and grasped a handful of material, pulling the hem of her clothing further upward. The tantalizingly slow-moving fabric exposed the creamy white skin of her legs and it made him shudder as his thoughts traveled back to when she accidentally exposed her curvaceous bottom to him.
Licking his lips with eyes closed, he particularly focused on how the swaying of her hips had exposed the petals of her cunt, and how it dripped from the fresh river water she bathed in. Now he hungered to see it drip of something else entirely.
For the first time in ages, his cock filled with blood and sprang to life. The aching of his heavy balls was a burning reminder of how long it had been since he last released his seed. Never had he released into a female before, however, only his hand. Just knowing she lay before him, that he could flip her at a moment’s notice and plunge into her cunt so deep her world forever be tilted sideways, made his cock leak. As if his seed itself searched for her womb to fertilize.
He scoffed at the idea. If any womb would be fertilized, he would be doing it himself.
“Skarde?”
Her low voice pulled him out of a fantasy he desperately needed to be real. Which was just as real as his need for her, but he pushed that down knowing he had already erred once already.
Dipping the cloth in the water, he wrung it out with a firm twist and then carefully dabbed her injured foot, cleansing away the fresh and dried blood until the wound was no longer soiled with dirt. Upon inspection, it appeared she had stepped on something sharp like a jagged rock. If humans were anything like trolls, a wound on the foot should heal quickly and by tomorrow she could be walking around, but he didn’t tell her that. Not if he meant he could continue earning her favor by tending to her as a male would attend his female.
Instead, he held her exposed leg up and placed it on his lap and continued to clean her feet, her toes and any other area soiled from when she foolishly ran after him. When he was finished with one foot, he took her other.
“That’s not necess–” she began to say before he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
Skarde was beginning to see the value in some human notions and enjoyed how subservient she was to his desires, following his lead when he took command. But he also enjoyed her fiery spirit when she stood up to him with the strength and courage of that of a female troll if she felt she was wronged. Even knowing she was incredibly physically weaker, how she stood up to him here, in this very cave the first day they spoke, and just now in the forest when she had demanded he answer to her. She wasn’t afraid of him any longer, and the difference was showing.
In only a few short days she had gone from the cowering human who bowed her head doing what he had asked, no questions asked to making her own demands unafraid of the consequences.
And that difference made all the world because now that he’d seen this side of her, it only made him desire her more. Her beauty, her strength, her sheer will to live drew him in. It drew him in the moment he saw her sing not only a few days prior, and from that moment it only grew until the moment she kissed him.
Then it soared.
Skarde didn’t care if it soared to the heavens as long as it blasted King Erike and the gods in the face. He would not deny what his mind had been trying to work out all along. This female wasn’t just his because he claimed her as his captive. She was his because everything about her called to him in a way he doubted anyone else could.
When he finished cleaning both her feet he flung the cloth behind him and wrapped her wound with a small strip of fabric. Then he massaged her feet with slow, calming movements. At first, he wasn’t sure if she was enjoying it, but then she laid back on the furs, no longer watching him. Her eyes closed and a smile tugged her mouth upwards, occasionally opening to yawn.
She is tiring.
Slowly, but surely, he made his way up to her exposed calves, kneading her flesh like his mother used to knead dough. It made him salivate. Was the rest of her body as soft? As giving?
“This is incredible,” Delilah moaned.
His ears twitched at the sound, forever etching into his memory. Then he continued massaging her, enjoying the bare contact between their skin. His hands nor fingers tired from the constant squeezing and relaxing motion required to loosen tight muscles. When he reached just below her knees, he paused, her eyelids opened lazily and she jiggled her legs as if to say, why did you stop? Keep going!
Skarde broke out in a nervous sweat. He wanted to keep going, but he failed to decide because the hem of her clothes lay still at her knees. Indecision ate at him. Last time he failed to act on what was such an obvious moment of her desire and she shied away. This time, she lay before him, trusting him to touch her innocently. If she wanted him to go further would she have said? Would she have raised her clothing higher? Or is this a test?
He growled lowly, chiding himself to make a decision. And fast.
Again, she wiggled her legs as if to say please continue.
He would not fall short. Not this time. Pushing the hem upward with his thick fingers, he exposed nearly all of her thighs without uncovering the apex of her thighs.
Delilah sat up with half-lidded eyes. “Skarde, what are you doing?”
Her hands attempted to push him away, but he simply batted them away and kneaded the even softer flesh of her thighs. He couldn’t help but note she was tiny compared to a troll, but her thighs had curves which spoke to him, igniting a whole new passion inside of him.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmured as he gently pushed her shoulder so she would lay back down. He even allowed her to keep her hands hovered over her most intimate of places. He didn’t care what she did, as long as she continued to let him touch her and keep the darkest parts of his mind at bay. The parts that wanted nothing more to slice the necks of those who would ever harm the female that lay before him.
“Okay,” she sighed.
Eventually, her breathy moans died out and much to his dismay, she fell asleep. He replaced her garments so they once again covered her fully and then laid an additional fur covering over her body.
When he was certain she was completely out cold, he leaned down and nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled the deepest breath he ever took.
“The gods are cruel, but sometimes I think they are kind. I can’t tell which they are now. To have you so close, but not able to claim you. I will wait for you to come to me again,” he whispered into her ear.
Oh how he wanted to kiss her, to steal that which she could not give in her state, but Skarde wasn’t that kind of male. His heart beat angrily knowing others tried to take from her what she didn’t freely give, and in that moment he swore that that would never be him.
Chapter Twenty
Delilah
The next three days passed by like a blur after a storm raged through the area trapping Delilah inside the cave. Skarde on the other hand didn’t seem to mind the pouring rain that blanketed the entrance or the massive bolts of lightn
ing filling the dark blue sky followed by roaring thunder. In fact, he appeared visibly perplexed and even cocked his head to the side in confusion when she refused to leave the cave to go hunting with him.
“Are you sure you wish to remain here?” he asked for the third time already, somehow adding more skepticism to the punch than the last.
“Yes,” she hissed in irritation. He wasn’t the one that was grating on her nerves. She blamed her fouling mood on being cooped up in the cave for three full days without an end in sight. Of course it didn’t help that she was on her fourth morning and it was dark and just as dreary as the last days had been. The weather just refused to let up, and Skarde wasn’t helping any by constantly asking her to go with him. “I got this,” she added hoping to make her point clear and sharp.
By got this, she meant keeping the fire well stocked so she didn’t freeze her behind off. Thankfully, Skarde had stocked the cave with enough wood for several more days just before the rain ever started. Apparently, the rapidly changing weather conditions assaulted him while he was trying to sleep as it were some beast attacking its prey and he had no choice but to get up and deal with it. She was glad he did, because wet wood made bad fires and a bad fire meant she would freeze.
“But you will be alone,” he stressed with a concerned look on his grumpy face. Even his eyes seemed saddened at her refusal to go with him as if he took her desire to remain as a personal insult.
And there was that word again. Ever since divulging her innermost secrets to him he worried over her well being like a child, it was almost smothering. On several occasions she almost complained to him, but with his worrying looks and anxiety-ridden eyes melted her heart.
“This isn’t me being alone, this is independence while you go out and do the hard work,” she insisted.
He frowned and then his face brightened up like a freshly lit candle. “I cannot teach you about traps when you choose to stay inside. Perhaps we could even construct a new one so you have the skills to build one yourself should the need arise.”
She couldn’t deny that his suggestion had some merit, if she could safely leave the cave and stay dry. Looking back outside only confirmed the truth; there was zero chance of leaving without drowning.
Delilah struggled to hold in her exasperation. The troll would just not relent. He wanted her out and learning survival skills, and couldn’t comprehend that she needed new clothes to wear so she wasn’t a sopping wet mess all day and night.
“I will promise to go with you tomorrow if the weather clears. Believe me, I want more than anything to get out of this cave and have the freedom to roam around, but I can’t just yet. Okay?”
Skarde grunted his disappointment. “I will take your word for it then,” he replied with a grin before heading out into the downpour.
“If the weather clears!” Delilah shouted back at his disappearing backside, doubting her heard a word she said, or if he did, he made no indication of it.
Her hand smacked her forehead and she let out a groan, knowing all too well that tomorrow he would be just as bullheaded, perhaps even more so if she still refused to go.
Hadn’t he ever heard of getting a cold?
With him gone she felt relieved, needing some time alone with her assailing thoughts. It had been three days since she’d kissed him and they hadn’t spoken about it once. If it wasn’t for the knowing glint in Skarde’s eyes almost daring her to kiss him again, she could have easily pretended it was just a dream. No kiss, no massage, no intimate whispers in her ears. Nothing.
Delilah shook her head, pushing both the thoughts of that night and the giddy nerves that came along with it out her head. She had things to do and pinning over why he never kissed her back was not one of them.
But if he didn’t want you, then why did he—
No!
After throwing up some mental barriers she hummed an old tune her mother sang for her when she was a child. While she had long forgotten the words, she never forgot the melody.
She continued to hum, swaying her hips to dance while sweeping up the mess of the debris that had already blown in since morning.
When she was finished, she collected her sewing supplies. The past several days she’d spent her time finishing twisting the fibers into various lengths and sizes before trimming them down to their appropriate lengths. She also snipped away several layers of her dress and the new furs Skarde had prepared, dried and washed for her.
It was time to make new clothes.
Unlike the previous days, where Skarde would come and go at leisure, bringing various supplies back like rabbit and squirrel, hides and bones, he stayed out much later. She could only presume he’d traveled much further out to check those traps instead of the ones nearby. Whatever the case, she hoped he was as successful in his hunt like he was the day before, when he arrived home with a massive boar. Between them, they had devoured the giant beast before the remainder was cut into strips and then stored in the back of the cave.
Delilah noticed that his fascination for smoking meat and stockpiling it deep in the cave for later use was more of a compulsion. Undeniably smart, but that didn’t mean he was no less obsessed. She understood his need to be prepared, especially given his paranoid fear of running out of food, but it almost seemed unhealthy.
He was, however, a rather large male, nearly three times her width and almost two heads taller. Claiming he ate more food than a human was a vast understatement, but it certainly was much more than what she required, so in a way his choices made sense. If he was finding it difficult to hunt, of course he would be worried about food stores. However, they had been eating heartily since she woke up from near death almost a week ago.
While she couldn’t place her finger on it, something about his stockpiles ate at her. And more than anything she wanted to get to the bottom of it.
She could understand his odd behavior if he was saving up for something, but then that begged the question for what? What was he saving up for? Relocating didn’t seem like the right option as he already stated that the prey on this mountain wasn’t running out anytime soon, just that it was slowly shrinking. So the only ’logical’ conclusion she could come up with was that he was saving for winter, but also seemed wrong in a sense.
He seemed almost impervious by the weather, and hunting in the winter was the same as hunting in any other season as far as she understood. The difference being where animals hid and how long one could stay outside, but who knew? It wasn’t her expertise.
Delilah continued to listen to the rain splattering against the cave’s exterior. It surrounded her and drowned out nearly all other sounds, droning on and on as she stitched together a new dress out of the spare materials she scraped from the one she was wearing now. It was nowhere near as fancy as what she was used to wearing required by the older women who set the standards in her village, but it didn’t need to be.
Corsets, stockings, chemises, and drawers were all out of the question. They were too flimsy or had no benefit to her as clothing. Besides her stockings were long gone, from when Mathias ripped them from her body.
Honestly, her best bet was something simple to wear around the cave, and then something akin to the pants and shirts men wore for when she was out in the woods. Dresses made no sense here, not when their long hems got caught on every twig, rock, and log. Especially not a gown. It was almost laughable how utterly destroyed her gown had become. Between the constant wear and then essentially stripping it down as much as she safely could for materials, it was nothing more than a slightly elegant looking dress. Save for the constant dirt and rips that marred it. She was endlessly wiping away something before it left a stain, or stitching a small opening before it became a massive tear.
The practice it gave her was worth it, because now her hard work was finished. Delilah stood up with a bright smile as she eyed the garment she held out in front of her. All that hard work was gratifying.
It was a full-length dress with short sleeves. The necklin
e was a tad lower than she would have liked, and the material wasn’t as thick as she preferred, but it would make a fine garment to sleep in. Its colors were a mixture of tan, white and pink and looked nothing more than a patch of scraps stitched together by someone who owned nothing more than a shoelace, but it was hers and she made it out of nothing more than the clothing she had and plants discovered by the river.
Then an idea sparked in her mind. It would be the perfect piece to bathe in. The fabric wasn’t too sheer, but it was a step up from bathing nude. Perhaps when the rain ended she could convince Skarde to take her to that spot he claimed was more suitable for bathing.
Delilah groaned. She couldn’t almost imagine the feeling of getting clean again. This daily wipe down with a rag and some water just wasn’t cutting it. She was clean, but in her mind, there was nothing more satisfying or relaxing than a bath...or a massage.
Delayed took a break from her sewing and tossed in a few more branches into the fire and laid down in her furs. It was difficult to do much of anything when her mind kept zipping back to the moment she kissed Skarde. Despite her mental walls, he somehow kept climbing over them, invading her thoughts whenever she became distracted and let her guard down. She’d never kissed anyone before, nor felt the desire to, but in that moment all those nights ago, she did and now she couldn’t get it out of her head.
She was attracted to him. At first, it took some time for her to build up the courage to even look at him straight on when he carried on in nothing but a revealing loincloth, but she’d gotten used to it. It’s not like he was trying to be revealing, it was obvious his lack of clothes were just a normal part of his everyday life.
There was no denying he was very handsome, even compared to human standards. She often found her straying eyes enjoying his stocky build compared to the men from her village. Not that she’d ever seen what they look like buried beneath all their heaps of clothes, but her point remained the same. Had Skarde been born a human, she had no doubt women would flock to him like sheep.
The Lonely Troll Page 14