Page 55 of The Savage Vow
Orlena stood framed in candlelight, her dark hair contained in silky material that hid her hair. Her eyes were wide with shock, and she stood frozen. For a suspended moment, they stared at each other.
“You came back,” Orlena breathed.
Before Nargol could answer, Orlena launched herself forward. Nargol caught her instinctively. She wrapped her armsaround the smaller woman, and Orlena clung to her. Relief filled her that was so intense, it was almost painful.
Her human was safe.
She buried her face in Orlena’s neck and inhaled her familiar scent.
“I told you I would return,” Nargol murmured.
Orlena pulled back and gazed up at Nargol. Her tiny hands fisted the fabric of Nargol’s tunic as if she were afraid she’d vanish into thin air. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“I wasn’t sure,” she admitted in a whisper. “Every day that passed, I just thought?—”
Nargol silenced her with a kiss.
It was not gentle. It was desperate and full of the restrained hunger of being away from her mate for five long days. Orlena’s breath hitched, and she melted into the kiss. Her hands slid up to cup Nargol’s face.
Nargol nudged the door closed behind them without breaking the kiss. The latch clicked softly, sealing them inside away from the world. In this house, this was their own little world that was small and warm.
Their kiss deepened, but the pace slowed. It went from urgent into something tender. Nargol traced the curve of Orlena’s cheek with her thumb. She marveled at the simple wonder of Orlena’s presence in her arms.
“I thought of you every moment I was gone,” Nargol confessed.
“I prayed for your return every night.” Orlena’s lips lifted into a shy smile.
The words struck Nargol with an unexpected force. She pressed her forehead to Orlena’s, her heart thundering. This little human, who had an abundance of strength and hope, had woven herself into the very fabric of Nargol’s being.
She quickly barred the door, then turned to lift Orlena. Her mate laughed softly and looped her arms around Nargol’s neck. At the sound of her giggles, a rush of warm emotions flooded Nargol’s chest. She carried her into the bedroom.
The room was intimate. The bed, modest at best, was designed for a single sleeper. Yet when Nargol laid Orlena down and joined her, it felt as though the bed was made just for them. They stripped each other of their clothing, their movements unhurried, with pauses for kisses and touches. Nargol memorized the warmth of Orlena’s skin, the touch of her, the way her lips parted when Nargol shimmied her hand down her stomach to rest on her thigh, or how her eyes darkened the moment she slipped her finger between her slicked slit.
Orlena’s moans filled the air.
“Bula,” she breathed.
Nargol gritted her teeth and had to force herself not to correct Orlena.
Nargol, she snapped inside her head.
That was the name she wanted to hear fall from her mate’s lips. One day soon, Orlena would speak her true name. The thought sent a ripple of longing through her.
“What is it that you want,doakir?” Nargol murmured.
She watched how Orlena’s smooth thighs parted for her. She glided her fingers through Orlena’s folds and shuddered. Her lover was extremely ready and prepared. Her slickness coated Nargol’s fingers.
She pressed a finger into Orlena’s opening. She was greeted with a silky hot heat as it sank inside Orlena. She bit back a curse at how wet her human was. She licked her lips, wanting to drink every ounce of honey that poured from Orlena.
Orlena’s eyes were closed, her head back on the bed.
“Tell me,doakir.What is it that you want?” Nargol murmured.
She withdrew her finger then pressed two deep inside. Her fingers were thick and wide and stretched out Orlena’s tight little channel. Her moan signified how good it felt to her. Nargol kissed Orlena’s cheek, then her chin, then her lips.
“Tell me.”
Orlena’s eyes opened, dark with need. She reached out a hand and skated her fingers into Nargol’s thick hair.
