Page 22 of The Orc's Bonded Bride

“You didn’t think I deserved to make that choice for myself?” she demanded, and he flinched as if she’d struck him.

“I was trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing would have been to talk to me,” she said, wrapping her arms tighter around herself as the morning chill seemed to seep into her bones. “Not disappear without a word.”

“I know that now,” he admitted. His eyes finally met hers again, filled with a regret so raw it made her throat tighten. “I’ve learned many things since then. Too late for it to matter, I suppose.”

She wanted to stay angry—anger was safer than the other emotions swirling beneath her ribs—but something in his expression made it impossible. The Egon who stood before her now was not the same one who had left her all those years ago. The scars that marked his skin seemed to extend deeper, to places she couldn’t see.

She studied the lines of his face, seeing both the boy she’d once known and the male he’d become. The anger she’d nursed for years began to dissolve, replaced by something more complicated—a recognition that they’d both been shaped by pain and circumstance.

“Did you ever think of me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “After you left?”

His expression softened, vulnerability replacing the guarded look he usually wore. “All the time. I… I hoped you were happy.”

The simple admission sent warmth spreading through her chest. She took a step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I thought of you too,” she confessed. “Even when I tried not to.”

His eyes searched hers, as if looking for some trick in her words. Finding none, he exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool morning air.

“I never meant to hurt you, Lyric.”

She sighed, then reached up hesitantly, her fingers hovering near the scar that ran along his neck. “May I?”

He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and she traced the raised line of tissue with gentle fingertips. His skin was warm beneath her touch, and she felt him tremble slightly.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“A reminder,” he murmured, “of the price of carelessness.”

Her hand drifted up to another scar near his temple. Each mark told a story of survival, of battles fought and endured, and she found herself wanting to know them all.

“We’ve both changed,” she said, her hand coming to rest against his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, the vulnerability there took her breath away.

“Some things haven’t,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, and she felt the truth of it down to her bones.

Despite the years and distance between them, despite the pain and misunderstandings, the connection that had drawn them together was still there.

“No,” she agreed softly. “Some things haven’t.”

But their connection was no longer quite the same. It was no longer the worshipful admiration of a child for her protector—it was something more. Her heart hammered against her ribs as her thumb feathered across his scarred cheek. The morning air seemed charged with something electric, a current she could no longer resist. His eyes held hers, filled with a longing that mirrored her own.

Without allowing herself to overthink, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The instant their mouths met, heat exploded through her body. What she’d intended as a gesture of understanding transformed into something far more powerful, years of unspoken feelings igniting between them like dry tinder catching flame.

He froze for a heartbeat—just long enough for doubt to flicker at the edges of her mind—before his arms encircled her, pulling her against the solid wall of his chest. His mouth moved over hers with an intensity that made her knees weak, a low growl rumbling from deep in his throat.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, anchoring herself to him as the kiss deepened. He tasted like her honey and something uniquely him that made her head spin. The gentleness she’d witnessed in his care for her bees and patience with Samha contrasted sharply with the barely restrained passion in his kiss. Her body responded with a hunger that shocked her, every nerve ending suddenly, gloriously alive.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, she kept her eyes closed for a moment, afraid to see regret on his face. But when she finally opened them, she found only wonder in his gaze, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened between them.

“I didn’t—” she began, then stopped, unsure what she meant to say. She hadn’t planned this, hadn’t allowed herself to imagine crossing this line with him. Yet now that she had, it felt inevitable—as if every moment since his reappearance had been leading them here.

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip with a tenderness that made her heart ache. She should step back, should reconsider what she was doing, but her body refused to move away from his warmth.

“I didn’t expect this,” she whispered, finding her voice at last. “When you appeared in my garden, I thought…”

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