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She didn’t cower, but she held herself stiff, as if readying for him to grab at her. To do something unspeakable to her. Like Krul will do. Another growl worked up his throat, but he bit it back for fear of scaring her. None of him, beast included, wanted this creature anywhere near the Stone-Skin chief.
Silas stood close by, too close. He’d crept up behind Orek silently, a mark of why he was the clan’s best tracker. He was tall, like all orcs, but he didn’t have the breadth of most. Instead, there was a ranginess to him, a lean strength Orek saw in starving wolves during long winters. Creatures that were always hungry with nothing to lose. Silas had such a gleam in his eye, like he’d swallow anything whole if it came too close.
She stood up carefully, inch by inch, waiting for something to burst into the tent. Everything remained quiet, except for her overloud breathing that buzzed in her ears. She felt better with her feet under her, but her heart still raced like a bird beating to get out of its cage.
She’d face whatever this orc brought because at least it’d be on her own two feet. She’d rather run into the dark night than wait in the dark of this tent.
She kept insisting that, but Orek, as he looked at her standing there in the middle of the creek, so defiant and scared and determined, wasn’t worried about her keeping up, or even them making good time to the river. He worried more now that she was hurt and that he could have gotten her more hurt.
She’d come to no harm from him, and that rage inside had him vowing that she’d come to no harm at all if he could help it.
Gracelessly, she clambered onto his back and hooked her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. She felt like the baby possums she’d seen in the forest near her home, clinging to their mothers from tree to tree.
Orek had had to squash his desire to keep offering her more, reminding himself the food needed to be rationed. Something about her appreciative smile and seeing her eat what he offered gave him…satisfaction. She thanked him.
She’d never considered herself a chatty person, she left that to her mother. But in a house of eight, sometimes nine, there was always someone talking or shouting or screaming. She couldn’t help a rueful twist of her lips at the irony of her wishing just a few weeks ago for a few moments’ quiet. Now, what she wouldn’t give to be in the middle of that maelstrom, deafened by chatter and squabbling.
He huffed often. Or, if not often, enough to mark it as a noise that wasn’t just one of irritation. Sometimes it was in response to taking a long draught of air, checking for scents. She knew from a morning of watching him the difference between a good scent huff and a worrying scent huff. She knew the difference between a huff of agreement and one of reluctant amusement. He had so many, that when he did actually huff at her in irritation, it took her aback.
“I will care for him,” he said. “Perhaps I can return him later. They heal quickly.”
Awww
“I hadn’t thought to,” he admitted. “What is it you keep calling him?” “Darrah.” “Is that orcish? What does it mean?” “It is…little acorn.” Another blush crept up Orek’s neck. “Because he fell from a tree.”
That's adorable
Even if something inside him shifted irrevocably. That smile did things to him he couldn’t name or fully understand. That smile could ask things of him no one else had or would. It was terrifying to realize he’d likely give whatever that smile asked of him.
Yes, that’s why. I need to see it for myself. See it through.
Whatever you need to tell yourself
In the quiet of the forest, she saw him. Saw the little knicks and scars that patterned his skin. Saw the single gold loop pierced through his pointed right ear. Saw the lack of tusks but still distinctly inhuman shape of his mouth. Saw the freckles and finely wrought cheekbones.
Fates, he was so stupid. And he wasn’t about to stop.
That was how, before making camp for the night a mile out of town, Sorcha took part in a great raccoon emancipation. The gold Orek gave the merchant bought the awful traps too, and they carried the animals far into the forest before releasing them.
Orek took in all the scents he could, but the overriding smell was that of Sorcha’s fear, and he hated it. The scent burned his lungs and made him want to put a fist through something. Protect. Flush out threat. Eliminate. Protect.
My female. Protect. Eliminate threat.
He grasped the rope, and Sorcha pulled with all her might. All her might meant nothing against the rage and power of the river rapids. You can’t have him, dammit!
She turned and ran into the forest. But if her halfling thought she’d abandon him, leave him to the forest and his fate, he’d truly learned nothing about her at all.
Something inside settled and snapped into place. Something that should have worried him after all the grief he’d given himself the past hours. But Orek was too far gone. Sorcha was the river and he was caught in her current. He never wanted to come up for air.
He still managed to be the kit’s favorite. He’s my favorite, too.
he knew as surely as he did that he had ten fingers and a scar bisecting two knuckles on his left hand that he was irrevocably, forever hers. However she wanted him, however she needed him—just hers.
How a male as good as Orek could come out of a clan full of such rock-brained idiots was beyond her.
Because Sorcha wasn’t a stupid woman. But she felt a little stupid for him.
My female is safe, warm, and comfortable, he contented himself. Just as a mate should be. Finally, it was enough to allow himself to follow her into sleep. Orek would always follow wherever she went.
A challenge if he ever heard one. And he’d never fail her, his female—never.
She knew this must mean something to him, and her heart stung to think he’d had so little affection and pleasure before. Sorcha intended to give him as much as he could stand.
“A woman can only shove her tits in a man’s face so many times to no effect before she starts to feel rejected.” Orek went perfectly still under her and his eyes so wide they rimmed in white. “You—” he choked. “You were—” “Flirting, yes. Sort of. Maybe not very well.”
Always he found ways to touch her—brushing back her hair or sliding a hand down her back or tucking her into his side. Sorcha’s favorite was to hold his hand as they walked, the firm reassurance making her heart puddle.
He had a little time yet, and he’d use it all to win her heart and show her what it meant to be a mate. That he would kill for her, die for her, and most especially he would live for her.
Because she wanted him to stay with her. Because she wanted him. Fates, I love him.
She wanted to claim him, to be the belonging he’d never felt.
When truly, she loved him so fiercely, she hadn’t even found words for it yet. She’d never been in love before, and after all the epic stories of her parents, the noble knight and fiery horsewoman, she’d never thought it would be so…easy. But it was. Loving him came easily. Not all of a sudden or in a fiery burn the poets sang about. Theirs was a gentle build, and that’s what she suspected he needed then. Gentleness.
Loving someone didn’t mean there weren’t times you wanted to occasionally smother them with a pillow.
“Mate,” he growled, “you are the air I breathe. The beat of my heart. You own me, Sorcha, body and soul.”
When he did speak again, it was in that deep, rumbling voice he used to tell stories, one that snared her attention and kept it rapt upon him. “I’ve never truly belonged anywhere. To anyone. But Sorcha, mate, I’m yours. If being part of your clan is what I must do to have you, then I’ll do it. Gladly. Because you are my life now.”
“I’m not a human man. I may not be full orc-kin, either. But all of me is yours, Sorcha. I won’t leave you. Never.”
“Then get to know him. He’s been quite good at answering all your questions so far.”
“Love isn’t like the storybooks. Life doesn’t end with ‘the end.’ It goes on, and every love story is different. Some are more difficult than others.
“Men are stupid sometimes, with their need to be heroes, but we love them anyway.
I’m coming, my love. And you’re going to get such an earful when I find you. And then the biggest, longest kiss of your life.
“Women don’t like being left out of big decisions like this. I hope you have a fantastic apology planned.”
Anghus is a smart man
“Just because you ignore me doesn’t mean I’m not there,”
She’d trained all her life—not for this, she’d never have dreamed of this—but it would have to do. Because that was her halfling, and they would not take him from her.
Oh, he thinks he’s angry. Just wait until I get hold of him!
“Nobody else gets to threaten your life. Only me.”
“I want someone to fall asleep with and wake up to. Every day, summer and winter, rain and snow. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but it’s what I want.”
“I promised myself long ago, I’d deny you nothing. You’ll have whatever you want from me, my heart. I want your selfish and your needy and your wanting.”
