by Layla Harper
“Ancestors above, take what you will. My life, if it must be so. Just bring her back. Bring her back.”
Fingers tangle in hair that has not seen—
I freeze.
It cannot be.
Fear locks my body, and I am not ashamed to admit I dread turning around. I cannot face the disappointment of not seeing those lovely eyes looking into mine with recognition. My mind is weak with lack of sleep. Yes, it must be, for I hear the acceleration of her heartbeat.
I feel her touch.
“Ulda, goddess of—”
“You know, it would really suck to wake up and have you die on me.”
My head whips to hers so fast I hear bones crack.
Sleepy blue eyes smile back at me. “Hey.”
An anguished sound rushes out of my throat. My heart pounds so loudly I cannot hear the intake of her breath. “You wake.”
“I heard you. In my head.”
Her voice is weak. Fragile.
“Rogar?”
I touch her then. Her face. Her lips. I feel for the beat of her pulse against my fingers. My vision blurs. I am too overwhelmed with relief to hide my tears.
Fighting the driving impulse to clutch her to my chest, I step back, hands fisted to my sides. My chest heaves, and my limbs shake with the desire to reach for her. “By the suns, I want so badly to hold you, but I fear I will hurt you.”
Her cerulean gaze roams over my face, her brows wrinkling with worry. “I’ve never seen you cry.”
“Losing you…” I look away, the inside of my throat constricting in shame. “I… I… You will not be proud of the male I have become the last few weeks.”
“Wow. Weeks?”
I nod.
Her gaze never leaves my face. “I know who I love, and I know that male is honorable regardless of how his heart might hurt.” She folds the ends of the blanket over her hips and moves her body over, making room on the mattress. “You would never hurt me, Rogar. Never.”
Kyra curls onto her side, her back to me.
I crawl in beside her, sighing when she rests back against my chest. I pull her close, my arms wrapped around her waist. Her scent in my nose.
“I missed you, female,” I whisper into her ear. “I missed you more than you will ever know.”
And with my mate awake and secure in my arms for the first time in weeks, I fall asleep, grateful and content.
24
Kyra
Three weeks later…
Moonlight spills over the lake. Across the meadow, yellow and green dots blink in synchronized patterns from the fireflies dancing in the forest.
I’d thought this part of Drengskador was gorgeous during the dreamscape, but in real life, it’s breathtaking. Smiling, I step into the pavilion and let the curtain drop. The setting is…
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
I raise the wildflower bouquet to my nose, inhaling the fresh scent to calm the nerves drumming to a beat matching the little beetles glowing outside.
Ours has not been a normal courtship, not even by orc standards. But I can’t imagine taking this leap with anyone but Rogar.
I’m about to claim my orc.
Mine.
It’s got a nice ring to it.
“Are you ready?” Talti, Frinhol’s healer, shuffles up beside me, a small box held between her hands.
Her wizened yellow eyes take me in, missing no detail of my lacy gown with its sweetheart neckline, billowy skirt, and sweeping train—a beautiful creation the castle seamstress put together based on a terrible sketch I’d given her.
The result is everything I could have hoped for. It was Rogar’s idea to make our mating ceremony a blend of human and orc traditions. “When you come to me, female, I want all of you.”
How did I get so lucky?
Besides the white dress, I’ve included the bouquet and our rings, simple platinum bands we’ll both wear. On the orc side, I wear the ancient ceremonial symbols Talti spent the better part of the afternoon hand painting onto my body. It was customary for the female orc to present herself wearing only the symbols and a crown given to her by the male’s family.
Since neither of us has any strong family ties, I decided to eschew the head covering. When I round the path to the lake and see Rogar’s face for the first time in twenty-four hours—yep, I kept that tradition—I want him to see my expression. My nerves. My joy. My pride in accepting his bond.
All of it.
“This is for you.” Talti juts her chin toward the item in her hands.
A chest, not a box.
I set my bouquet atop a small table. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
I take the delicately carved chest and set it gently beside my bouquet. The minute I flip the two latches along the front, a light fragrance emits.
Fresh yet slightly sweet.
I inhale again. It kind of reminds me of a peony but different. I lift the lid. A crown of flowers sits in the center of a bed of purple satin.
Rose-like in appearance, the outer petals form the base for row after row of overlapping velvety petals in a shade of white that’s nearly translucent. The tips sparkle, like someone dipped each petal in diamond dust, lending the bloom a magical appearance.
“They’re gorgeous. I’ve never seen flowers like these.” There are seven forming the wreath.
“Nor would you. The Xanata Bloom is rare and only found along the steepest slopes of the Infernal Mountains toward the summit.”
Oh my God.
He didn’t.
My eyes sting with tears.
“Your scent reminds me of the Xanata Bloom. One day, my càirdeil, my sweet, sweet mate, I will pluck this delicate bloom and lay it at your feet as a token of my devotion.”
I told him I didn’t need flowers, just him. And I meant it.
But this…
Not a day goes by where my orc doesn’t make me feel wanted and cherished and special, which flames the love I hold for him to proportions I didn’t think were possible.
It’s scary to think about losing him.
About losing us.
Yet the alternative, living without Rogar, is even scarier.
“A fine male you have chosen, girl. Now bend down so I can place this wreath upon your head. And not a word about my short arms.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“You were thinking it, girl.”
“No I wasn’t.”
She clucks. “Talking back to your elders?”
I stoop to nearly a squat since I’ve got over a foot and half on the elderly healer. “You can be insufferable, you know that?”
“Brat.”
I laugh. I’ve gotten to know Talti pretty well these last few weeks. She’s become the grandmother I never had. A feisty one, I might add, who loves to argue and force-feed me the grossest weeds ever.
“I’m offended you’re giving me a hard time on my mating day.”
She snorts. “It will heat your blood for the consummation, girl.”
My cheeks flame. “Not a problem Rogar has to worry about.”
“Make that orc wait much longer and he will march across the field and carry you over his shoulder.”
“That could be fun.”
She slaps my hip. “No, no fun. Not until you complete the bond,” she adds with a wink.
“I can’t believe we’re here. Finally.”
“You will make a fine queen. Do you have any questions about the ceremony?”
“No.”
She pats my arm affectionately. “Follow the path to the lake. He awaits you there.”
When I step out of the pavilion, a warm breeze rustles my hair, caressing my skin. My toes curl into the grass. I clasp the bouquet and take one step after the other.
Incense burns. I can hear Talti’s voice chanting in the distance. My steps grow quicker, and when the path curves around the cabin, I see him.
My orc.
Rogar stands tall and
proud, his massive torso painted with similar symbols across his pecs, arms, and back. A leather kilt wraps around his hips, revealing hard muscular thighs. His black hair is twisted into a thick braid running down the center of his head, his sexy pointed ears prominently on display.
He turns his head, and when our eyes meet, his lips curve into a predatory smile that leaves me breathless.
Mine.
This guy is all mine.
Forever.
My smile is shy when I reach him. “Hey.”
He bends over, his lips brushing the edge of my ear. “You are beautiful, my mate.”
“You too.”
Talti circles us, holding a stone bowl with burning herbs, the scent aromatic. She sings and smudges the air, her voice rising and falling with each foreign word sung.
With a large feather, she fans the smoke to the ground, the sky, to the east and then the west. She continues purifying our bodies, making sure to hold the smoking bowl near our hearts for several minutes.
Talti takes my bouquet and sets it and the bowl atop the small stone altar. Clutching a handful of greens, she chants and dusts our exposed skin with the herbs, the ancient words rising around us.
Between the incense and the burning herbs thickening the air, I’m slightly dizzy. Or the feeling could be an effect of the hungry look in my soon-to-be husband’s eyes.
Talti passes him the ceremonial pipe. Rogar takes three drags and then passes the pipe to me. I do the same, not questioning whatever the heck I’m smoking even when the world starts to fade around me.
Funny… the night sky is more vibrant than I remember. And I swear I can hear the flutter of the firefly wings from across the way.
Talti opens her palm. “May these rings have no end.”
I smile. The little speech I’d memorized drained from my brain somewhere between the first and third puffs of the pipe.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t need a memorized speech to tell Rogar how I feel. I tap my heart. It’s all here.
I slip the band onto his finger. “Since I met you, my world has been turned upside down. For the better. I mean, before you, I was oblivious to all of this. Who knew I’d stumble onto a realm outside of Earth and fall in love with a sexy orc king? Never in a million years would I have thought you were possible.”
He chuckles, and the sound does crazy things to my heart.
“Through all the chaos, you’ve been my one constant. A partner. A friend. A lover. I thank the stars it was you who found me when I crossed into Drengskador. I know there will good days and bad. There is still so much to resolve, but if your—our—crazy world tries to tear us apart again, I promise I’ll fight. For us. For you. For the beautiful babies we’re going to make together.”
His eyes light up with something akin to hope, and if the organ swelling against my rib cage could reach out and wrap its arms around it, it would.
It so would.
“I love you, Rogar. I accept your claim and welcome your bond.”
He takes my face between his hands and kisses me passionately.
Some time later, a throat clears.
Talti.
I laugh against his lips. “I think it’s your turn, big guy. And make it quick. I’m ready for the honeymoon.”
His grin is boyish. “Aye, my fierce orcress.” He touches my cheek tenderly. His eyes latch on to mine, making me forget everything but him. “Words cannot do justice to what I feel for you, but soon you will know.” He presses my palm flat against his thudding heart. “You are my world. My light. My reason for breathing. I pledge all that I am. My heart. My lands. My soul. Take what you will, my beautiful càirdeil. I am yours. Forever.”
He slides the ring onto my finger.
I feel the first stirring of something spark inside me.
The bond?
Rogar’s takes several steps back. His skin glistens under the light of the moon. I watch his hand go to his hip, muscle rippling along his arm as he undoes his kilt. The leather drops to the ground. He stands there for a moment in all his glory, then moves across the grass like a hungry lion. His scent overpowers all others until he’s all I smell.
All I crave.
Standing behind me, he plants soft kisses to my nape. Gooseflesh explodes over my skin. He unzips my dress, slipping the garment from my frame while caressing the exposed skin. The dress falls. A finger traces the symbols on my back before gliding around to my waist and up my abdomen.
I suck in a breath and arch into his chest. His breath is hot on my neck. I want that hand to move lower, to the place between my legs burning for his touch.
His voice is rough when he speaks. “Talti has gone.”
And then he takes my hand and leads me to a spot near the lake where the ceremonial blanket has been laid out.
Kneeling before me, his big hands wrap around my ass, and as if he can’t help himself, he presses a kiss to my mound.
A moan slips from my lips.
“I have waited so long for this moment.” Catching his breath, he leans his forehead against my stomach, a shudder working through his spine.
“I know.” I run my hand over his muscled back and kiss the top of his head.
His palm slides up to my cheek possessively, his skin warm against mine. “I will be gentle, mate.”
There’s a yearning in those crimson eyes—a vulnerability that unravels a fierce protectiveness inside me.
“I trust you, Rogar. I want this. I want to feel you inside my body and my soul.”
Gently, he leans back, pulling me with him so I’m straddling his hips, his hard cock between us.
I’m not going to lie. This is the part of the ceremony I worried about. Not the sex. No, never the sex. But the initial blood exchange that occurs between the male orc and his female to complete the soul bond.
Rogar’s lips tease, his tongue sweeping against mine, leisurely at first before deepening into an all-consuming assault of my mouth. It doesn’t take long before I’m lost in the taste of him, my body wired to his. His hands grip the sides of my face, and when he pulls away, his eyes glow red.
He swallows, a question burning in the glowing embers locked to mine.
Are you sure?
And I know, even in this, if my answer were no, he would respect my choice. No questions asked.
“Yes.” I nod. “Do it.”
Gently, he holds my wrist, a claw hovering over the tender skin. “It will sting.”
Emotions war on his face. He wants this, but he doesn’t want to hurt me, so I take the choice from him. I grasp his claw.
His breath hitches, and I feel the intensity of his stare on my face.
And maybe it’s all the incense I inhaled, or the herbs I smoked, I don’t know, but when his mouth latches on to the cut I made and sucks, heat shoots from my wrist directly to my core.
I am so turned when he captures my lips once again, the metallic taste of my blood on his tongue. I writhe against his thighs, panting, my body aching in all the right places. Rogar breaks the kiss and holds my face between his hands, staring at me as if he sees me for the first time.
And then the smile goes feral. “Mine. And when you drink of me, I will be yours.”
He raises the same claw, stained with my blood, to his neck. One big hand grips my hip possessively while the other curls around my back to my neck. His breaths become ragged, growing harsher and harsher as I hover over the cut.
I drag my tongue over the first drop. Growling, Rogar thrusts up, impaling me on his cock.
We moan.
His blood is surprisingly sweet, and with each pull from his neck, he loses a little more control, his hips pistoning wildly beneath me.
I’m lost in the sensations he elicits. Heat flushes my body, burning me up from the inside out. For a second my mind goes quiet, and then in the next breath, it explodes with color. Sound. Emotion. Rogar’s thoughts rush through the bond like a tidal wave.
Lust. Desire. Love.
Incredible love.
A love that flows into every corner of my soul, lighting up the darkness and healing every scar.
And then there is pleasure. Indescribable pleasure.
“I—” Awe. Complete and utter awe washes over his beautiful face. “I hear you, female. I feel you. Here.” He clasps my hand to his heart, holding tight.
“I love you.”
And with a growl, his body takes over, showing mine what his soul has been singing through the bond all this time.
Epilogue
Six years later
The elf sputters. The heavy gold-leaf headdress on her head makes me want to scratch the skin beneath my crown.
How can she stand to wear that thing all day long? I can barely stand wearing mine for ceremonial duties, never mind wearing a crown five times the weight of mine for show.
I’ll never understand how fae think.
Maybe that’s a good thing.
“… lands better suited for recreation or pleasure. Your Highness, they flutter about. Incessantly.”
Um… because they’re pixies?
What does she expect me to do? Instill a no-flying zone over their shared border? Seriously?
The “fluttering” pixie zooms across the air, angry green wings beating. She narrows violet eyes at the elf. “We dance. We make merry. It is what we do. And you”—she points at the elf’s face—“with your foolish festivals. Cavorting and fornicating in the forests in front of our children.”
“Our festivals are sacred.”
“Then keep your bloody cocks indoors where we can’t see them.”
Holy shit. “Decorum. You are in the presence of the high queen.”
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” they murmur.
“Let’s keep this PG-rated, okay?” They both shoot me a what-are-you-talking-about look. “Appropriate for matters of court. Although no one should be fornicating in front of children, am I clear? That would merit a very severe punishment.” I turn to the pixie. “Do I need to lodge a complaint?”
“No,” she grumbles. “I may have overexaggerated.”