I braced my hands on his chest, careful of his wound as I began to move. Each rise and fall sent sparks shooting up my spine. His cock hit places inside me that made my vision blur, the thick ridge of his head dragging against my walls in a way that had me gasping.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I moaned, picking up speed. “So fucking deep.”
His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. “Say that again.”
“Your cock fills me up so good,” I whispered, leaning down to nip at his ear. “Stretching my pussy just right.”
Galan growled deep in his chest. His hands gripped my ass, fingers digging in as he guided my movements. I watched his face—the way his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched.
“That’s it,” I purred, rolling my hips. “Fuck me hard.”
He sucked down a sharp breath at my words. He slid one hand up my back, tangling in my hair as he pulled me down for a bruising kiss. His other hand found my clit, circling roughly.
“Like this?” he asked against my lips, his touch growing bolder.
“Yes,” I moaned. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
His thumb pressed harder, matching the relentless pace of his cock pounding into me. Heat coiled in my core, building with each stroke. My pussy clenched around him, drawing a savage groan from his throat.
“Not gonna last,” he warned, his rhythm faltering. “You feel too good.”
“Then don’t,” I panted, riding him harder. I tilted my head to expose my throat. “Mark me, Galan. Make me yours.”
His lips found the junction where my neck met my shoulder, kissing the spot before grazing it with histusks. The gentle scrape sent shivers down my spine, my body instinctively arching into his.
“Mine,” he growled against my skin, his thrusts growing more desperate. “My mate.”
His grip tightened, one hand still tangled in my hair, the other pressing hard against my clit as he drove up into me. The dual assault on my senses prolonged my climax, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
Then his teeth sank into me, and the world exploded into stars.
Pain and pleasure crashed through me in equal measure, indistinguishable from each other. My back arched sharply, a cry tearing from my throat as his claiming mark burned into my skin. The sensation radiated outward from the bite, flowing through my veins like liquid fire until every inch of me was consumed.
I felt him pulse inside me, his hips jerking as he growled against my throat. His release triggered another aftershock, my pussy clenching around him, milking every drop as he filled me.
He released my throat with a gasp, his tongue laving gently over the mark he’d left. I melted against his chest, boneless and sated. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as our breathing slowly returned to normal.
“Hannah,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses along my shoulder. “My witch.”
I smiled against his skin, tracing the bandage covering where his father had tried—and failed—to tear us apart. The mark was still angry and red, but healing. Just like Galan himself. No longer the solitary guardian at the edge of clan territory, no longer defined by his father’s disgrace. He’d found his own path, one that led straight to me.
“My orc.”
EPILOGUE
GALAN
Hannah’s hand slipped into mine as we approached One Hop Stop, her fingers twining with mine like they belonged there. The evening air carried the scent of pine and woodsmoke, mingling with Hannah’s winter-mint essence that had become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat. The low hum of conversation and laughter spilled from the brewery’s open windows, along with warm light that painted golden patterns across the cobblestone path.
A month ago, that sound would have sent me retreating to the solitude of my cabin. Now, with Hannah’s palm pressed against mine, I felt something unexpected—anticipation, not dread. She anchored me, a silent reminder that I wasn’t walking into clan territory alone.
The mate mark I’d left on her neck peeked out frombeneath her hair as she twisted to face me. My mark. My claim. My chest swelled with pride every time I caught sight of it.
“Are you going to tell them?” Hannah asked quietly, her voice quiet enough that only I could hear.
I tore my eyes away and met hers, taking in the slight furrow between her brows. “Haven’t decided yet.”
Her lips pursed, but she didn’t press as I pulled the door open. The familiar scent of hops and wood smoke wrapped around us. I scanned the room, my hand settling protectively at the small of Hannah’s back.