Page 64 of The Orc and the Innkeeper

“But I’ve never stopped loving you,” he continues. “Not for a single moment.”

Thorak opens the box, revealing a stunning ring that sparkles in the sunlight. I realize with a jolt that it’s the same familyheirloom that Ygra had been parading around. But it’s been altered, adjusted down in size to fit a small human hand, with a massive, sparkling diamond in the center.

I stifle a gasp.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Mariah,” Thorak says, reaching out for my hand. “I want to build a home and a life with you. Will you be my mate? Will you marry me?”

For a moment, I’m speechless.

And then, through my tears, I manage to choke out a single word.

“Yes.”

Thorak’s face breaks into a blindingly wide grin, his ivory tusks glinting in the sunlight. He leaps to his feet, sweeping me into his arms and spinning me around as joyful laughter bubbles up from his broad chest.

Thorak pulls me in for a tender kiss, and cheers and applause go up around us. A small crowd must have gathered during his proposal—I hadn’t noticed, too focused on him and him alone.

I break the kiss, gazing up at Thorak, his eyes shimmering with love and joy.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing against mine. “More than anything in this world or any other.”

“I love you too,” I whisper back, my heart full to bursting. “Forever and always.”

After the proposal,Thorak leads me back to his stone cottage. As he pushes open the heavy wooden door, Snuffles comes scampering up, his little hooves clicking against the polished concrete floor. He snorts happily, nuzzling against my leg before turning his adoring gaze to Thorak.

Atop the massive oak dining table in the center of the room, Thorak has laid out a feast—succulent roasted meats, vibrant steamed vegetables, and a loaf of freshly baked bread that fills the air with its tantalizing aroma.

“Thorak, this is incredible,” I breathe, turning to face him. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

He shrugs, an earnest smile crossing his face. “I wanted to celebrate our engagement properly. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to cook for someone special.”

My stomach flutters at his words. It’s still surreal to think that we’ve come this far, that in less than a year he’s gone from being my loathed former bully to my betrothed lover.

Thorak pulls out a chair for me, and I settle in, Snuffles hopping up onto my lap. Thorak pours us each a mug of his signature ale, the rich amber liquid catching the light.

As we dig in, savoring each delicious bite, my mind drifts to our future together.

“You know,” I begin, setting down my fork, “We’ll need somewhere to live after the wedding.”

Thorak raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking...the inn?” I suggest hesitantly. “I mean, it’s where our whole story began. If it weren’t for those pesky pixie dust mites and our fake engagement scheme, who knows if we’d even be here right now?”

To my relief, Thorak chuckles. “You have a point there, Mariah. But I’m not sure your cozy little apartment is quite suited for a hulking orc like myself.”

I lean forward, giddy excitement building. “That’s just it, though! We could renovate, expand the space to make it work for both of us. And with the funds from your distribution deal and the inn’s success, we’ll have plenty to work with.”

Thorak reaches across the table, covering my hand with his own. His rough palm is warm against my skin. “Mrs. Ironfist, I do believe you’re onto something,” he rumbles, his deep voice sending shivers deep into my core.

I blush at my future name on his lips. It sounds right, like a promise of the life we’re building together.

“Call me that again,” I whisper.

Thorak gently picks Snuffles up off my lap and deposits him on the ground, and then pushes my chair back less gently. His strong hands encircle my waist and he yanks me toward him.

“Mrs. Ironfist,” he murmurs, his lips brushing deliciously against my neck as he pulls me on top of him. His arousal grows below me and I moan. “I like the sound of that.”

“Again,” I say.

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