Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
She shifts, mumbling in her sleep, and her hand lands right over the matching mark on my chest. Instantly, my pulse spikes. My Orc instincts roar to the surface, hungry to take her again, to make damn sure every inch of her remembers what we did last night. I need to have her under me, screaming my name, the mark glowing bright for both of us. Hell, I want to cover her in my scent until the entire valley knows she’s mine. But that’ll have to wait. Right now, my little human needs her rest after last night, so I grit my tusks and force myself to move slowly and steadily. Carefully, I ease my arm out from under her cheek. She mumbles, clings to my pillow, but doesn’t wake. I pause for a second, just drinking in the sight of her asleep and marked by me. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. My heart nearly punches straight through my ribs.
I slide my body out of bed, grimacing at the mess we made. The sheets are shredded and twisted, the air thick with the musk of sex and magic. My cock aches to crawl right back in beside her, but I promised myself I’d take care of her, not break her. I pull the covers back over her bare shoulders, making sure she’s warm before I head to the shower.
She’ll need food and water when she wakes up. A strong cup of coffee. Maybe a snack or three. Taking care of her is my new job, my sacred duty.
The second I leave the bedroom, my whole body goes on high alert, instantly missing my mate. I can’t stop thinking about the way her nails raked down my chest or the way she screamed my name last night. My cock is still half-hard just remembering it, but I force myself to focus. Food first. Pleasure later. That’s how it works when you’re taking care of your mate.
I prowl to the kitchen, rolling my shoulders and stretching out my hands. Every nerve in my body remembers her touch. I start the coffee first, grinding the beans extra fine because she likes it strong but not bitter. While the machine hisses, I crack eggs and fry them up with cheese, then slice fresh bread for toast. I want everything perfect for her. I want her to wake up and know she’s cherished. That she’ll never go hungry, never feel lonely, never doubt that I’m hers and she’s fucking mine. My mate. My obsession. If I have to spend every day for the rest of eternity making her smile, I’ll do it and call it a goddamn privilege.
I plate up the eggs and toast and pour her that perfect cup of coffee, then carry the whole thing back through the hallway, not even caring that my cock is still half-hard and straining against my sweats.
I set the tray on the bedside table. She stirs, lashes fluttering, and I’ve never seen anything more perfect. She stretches and makes a noise halfway between a purr and a growl. I watch the muscles flex along her spine, the way her ass lifts the sheet. My cock remembers everything it did to her and wants a rematch immediately.
She turns her head, blinking up at me, and I try not to growl. It’s only been eight hours, but I already know this is going to be an eternity-long addiction.
“Is that coffee I smell? What time is it?” she mumbles. Her voice is shot, deliciously rough.
“Zero six-forty-three.” I check my watch out of habit. “And I made you breakfast in bed.” I never thought those words would ever come from my mouth.
She groans. “Darn early risers.” Then she peeks at me again and cracks a smile. “My early riser.”
Her possessive tone sends electricity shooting down my spine. I hand her the coffee and she takes it with both hands, blows on it, then sips. Her eyes go wide, and she nearly sits up, but the effort is too much.
“Damn,” she breathes. “This is perfect.”
I feel the compliment land somewhere in my ribcage, where I’d expected to be armored. “It took three tries. First one was black sludge. Second one nearly burned through the cup.” There goes my goddamn mouth running off without consulting my brain.
She takes another sip, savoring it. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would literally kill for this coffee.” She looks at me over the rim. “How did you know I like it like this?”
I shrug, but the truth is embarrassing. “Aric. He said if I wanted to impress you, I had to make it exactly one point five tablespoons per cup, with a dash of vanilla and three artificial sweeteners.”
Her lips twitch. “He’s right.” She drinks again, then sets the mug aside and flops onto her back, covering her eyes with her forearm. “This is the best morning I’ve ever had, and I haven’t even left the bed.”