Page 23 of The Orc's Bonded Bride

She trailed off, unsure how to explain the tangle of emotions his return had sparked. Anger, hurt, confusion—and beneath it all, a stubborn, persistent hope she’d tried desperately to extinguish.

His eyes searched hers, uncertainty flickering in their depths. “Do you regret it?”

The question hung between them. She considered the years of hurt, the abandonment, the life she’d carefully built without him. All the reasons she should step away.

Instead, she shook her head. “No.”

The simple truth of it surprised her. Despite everything, despite the rational voice in her head warning her to protect her heart, she couldn’t regret the kiss they’d shared.

A tentative smile transformed his face, softening the harsh lines of his scars. His hand slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through her hair with exquisite care, as if she were something precious he feared breaking.

“Neither do I,” he murmured.

The admission sent warmth flooding through her chest, and she leaned into him, resting her forehead against the solid plane of his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her ear, as rapid and unsteady as her own.

“What happens now?” she asked, the question muffled against his shirt.

His arms tightened around her. “I don’t know.”

The honesty in his voice was oddly comforting. Neither of them had expected this, neither had a plan for what came next. They stood together in the growing light of dawn, surrounded by uncertainty but unwilling to let go.

CHAPTER 9

Egon carried a wooden crate filled with jars of honey to Lyric’s cart, his muscles flexing easily under the weight. Three days had passed since their early morning conversation, and each hour felt like stepping into a dream he’d never dared imagine.

“Is this the last one?” He set down the crate, careful not to disturb the meticulously arranged goods.

She smiled up at him, her fingers brushing against his as she adjusted the jars. “Perfect. I think we’re ready.”

Ready for the harvest festival—the type of gathering he would have avoided at all costs just days ago. Now, watching her growing excitement, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“You’ll outshine every other vendor there.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and she blushed.

“It’s just honey and vegetables.”

“Nothing about you is ‘just’ anything.”

Their eyes locked, and he felt that familiar pull—the one that had drawn him to her years ago and somehow found him again. His Beast stirred within, hungry and impatient to claim their mate, but he quieted it. This fragile thing between them deserved time to grow properly.

She went to check on the bees and he picked up his axe just as he heard a chorus of high-pitched voices and the unmistakable sound of small feet trampling through the underbrush. Samha emerged first, his unruly hair sticking up in all directions, followed by three other village children. The boy’s face lit up when he spotted him.

“I told you he was real!” Samha announced triumphantly to his companions, who huddled behind him with wide eyes, and Egon suppressed a smile.

“Back again, trouble?”

“We came to help!” Samha declared, puffing out his chest. “These are my friends—Nia, Tomas, and Beni.”

The children stared up at him with expressions ranging from awe to trepidation. He’d grown accustomed to Samha’s fearless curiosity, but these new faces reminded him how unusual his presence truly was in this small village.

“I’m splitting wood,” he explained, keeping his voice gentle. “Not a task for small hands.”

“We can stack it!” Samha insisted, already moving toward the pile of split logs.

Nia, a girl with braided hair and skeptical eyes, stepped forward. “Are you really an orc warrior? Samha says you fought a hundred men at once.”

He shot Samha a look, and the boy grinned sheepishly.

“I’ve fought when necessary,” he said carefully. “But I prefer peaceful work, like this.”

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