Page 35 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc

“You didn’t say,” I said, voice rough.

“You weren’t exactly in a state to receive visitors.” Her thumb traced circles on my palm. “And I might have been a little overprotective.”

The admission warmed something in my chest. My fierce little witch, standing guard over me. The irony wasn’t lost on me—I’d started as her reluctant bodyguard, and now our roles had reversed.

“I heard something interesting from Torain,” Hannah continued, those green eyes peeking through dark lashes. “Apparently there’s an opening for a park ranger here in Silvermist. You could choose how much to let them in. Make that space you wanted for yourself?”

Because my father terrorized the last ranger until he fled. I snorted. “I’m not becoming a fucking park ranger.”

“Of course not.” Her tone was too agreeable. “Far too much responsibility, making sure idiots don’t get themselves killed in your mountains.”

“They’re not my mountains.”

“No? That’s not what I heard.” She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And you’re pretty good at telling people where they can and can’t go.”

“Funny.” I caught her hand again, my mind caught on the idea. Working the land I knew, protecting the mountains I loved, but on my own terms. Not as Coth’s son or the exile’s heir. Just... me.

I shook the thought away. “It doesn’t matter. You need work, and after Harrison?—”

Her lips curved into a slow smile. “Well, what if I get a job here?”

I blinked. “Here?”

“Harrison’s been forced to resign. Turns out threatening a patient’s life based on species is frowned upon, even for the great Dr. Rocha.” Her smile turned wicked. “Dr. Patel’s taking over as chief of medicine, and she offered me the head nurse position.”

“When?”

“Today.” She gestured at her dress, grinning. “Had the interview this morning, actually. That’s where I’ve been.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. This woman, my mate, had been ten steps ahead while I’d been wallowing in self-pity.

Hannah shrugged, but the proud tilt of her chin gave her away. “Someone has to. You’re too busy being a big green brute.”

I caught her wrist and tugged her toward me. “Come here, witch.”

She didn’t resist, allowing herself to be pulled forward until our lips met. The kiss started gentle, but hunger quickly took over. I grabbed her hips and guided her onto my lap, arranging her so she straddled me.

“Galan!” She pulled back, hands braced against my chest. “Your wound?—”

“Is fine.” I slid my hands up her thighs, bunching thefabric of her dress. “I’ve been trapped in this bed for a week. Let me touch you.”

Her eyes narrowed, searching my face for signs of pain. “If you tear those stitches?—”

“I won’t.” My cock strained against my sweatpants, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide my reaction to her warm weight on my thighs.

Hannah’s gaze dropped to the obvious bulge between us. A slow smile spread across her face as she palmed my cock, squeezing me hard. “More than fine, I see.”

I groaned, head falling back. “Don’t tease.”

“Only if you promise to go slow.” Her fingers traced the edge of my bandage. “And stop if you feel any pain.”

“I promise.” I’d have promised her the moon and stars if it meant having her right now. “No heroics.”

Satisfied, she leaned down to kiss me again. This time there was nothing soft about it. Her tongue slid against mine, demanding and hungry. I groaned into her mouth, my hands tightening on her thighs.

For a week I’d been confined to this bed, allowed to touch but not take. To hold but not claim. The need that had been building—the mate bond demanding completion—roared through me like wildfire.

Mine.

---