Page 29 of The Orc's Bonded Bride

The second guard kicked an apple away. “We’re just being friendly. Don’t you want to be friendly?”

His Beast clawed at his control, rage building in his chest. He thought he recognized the girl—she’d helped Lyric with the beehives once. His claws emerged but he faced them back and put his hand on the knife at his belt instead, but before he could step forward, a small figure darted between the guards.

“Leave my sister alone!” Samha planted himself between the girl and her tormentors, his small chest puffed out despite the terror in his eyes.

The shorter guard laughed. “Look at this. A little hero.”

“Get out of the way, boy,” the other growled, shoving Samha roughly.

The child stumbled but didn’t retreat. “I said leave her alone!”

The taller guard’s face darkened. He released the girl’s wrist only to backhand Samha across the face. The boy crashed to the ground with a cry that sliced through him like a blade.

His Beast’s protective fury exploded through him, his body growing larger and more powerful as he threw back his head and roared. His vision edged with red as he surged forward, no longer concerned with stealth or consequences.

His world narrowed to a single point of focus—Samha’s small body crumpled on the ground, a trickle of blood from his lip. Three long strides brought him from shadow to sunlight. The guards barely had time to register his presence before he was upon them, knocking the legs out from under the shorter one with a sweep of his leg.

The second guard released the girl and drew his sword, but he moved too slowly. Egon grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the ground. The guard’s eyes bulged, wide with terror, and his mouth gaped as he struggled uselessly against the grip on his throat. Blood began to seep from the man’s neck where his claws dug into the skin.

His Beast screamed for blood, for vengeance, for the man’s death as payment for harming the child. Every instinct demanded he tear out the man’s throat, to protect, to destroy. But another part of him, a quieter voice that sounded like Lyric, reminded him that killing a King’s soldier would have consequences.

With a snarl, he threw the guard to the side. The man collided with the stone wall of the granary, bones shattering. The soldier’s limp form slumped to the ground, leaving a bloody streak on the stones.

Egon’s attention turned to the other soldier, who had been scrambling backwards on the ground, trying to escape. He grabbed the man by his ankle and dragged him closer, claws digging in deep enough to draw blood.

The guard tried to fumble for his sword, eyes wide with terror. “Beast! Help?—”

Egon seized him by the throat, lifting him off his feet with one hand. The guard’s boots kicked uselessly in the air as his face purpled. Egon felt the rapid flutter of the man’s pulse against his palm, heard the desperate wheeze as he fought for breath.

It would be so easy to squeeze tighter. To end this threat permanently.

“Please,” the guard choked out.

Samha’s whimper penetrated his rage. The boy was watching, eyes wide with fear and something else—awe. The girl had gathered her brother into her arms, both staring at him.

He growled, low and dangerous. “You touched a child.”

He slammed the guard against the wall of the granary, holding him there with brutal efficiency. The man’s sword clattered to the ground, forgotten.

“I should tear you apart,” he snarled, his voice barely recognizable even to his own ears. “Give me one reason not to.”

“We were just—” The guard’s words died as Egon’s grip tightened.

“Wrong answer.”

With a precise, controlled movement, he slammed the guard’s head against the wooden wall. Once. Twice. The man went limpin his grasp, blood trickling from his scalp, and he released him, letting the body crumple beside that of his companion. His chest heaved with each breath, the Beast slowly receding, although his vision was still tinged with red and his claws extended.

He stood over the unconscious guards, his breathing still ragged, heart pounding in his ears. The red haze of battle-rage receded slowly, leaving him exposed in the harsh light of day. He became aware of a growing silence—the normal sounds of village life had ceased.

He turned to find a circle of villagers had formed around him. Their faces registered shock, fear, and something worse—recognition of what he truly was. A Beast. A monster. A creature of violence.

The blacksmith, a burly man who’d nodded respectfully to him just yesterday, now pulled his daughter behind him. An old woman clutched her shawl tighter. Even the villager who traded for honey with Lyric took a step back, eyes wide.

His stomach twisted. He’d seen that look countless times—the moment when humans realized what an orc was capable of, when they understood the true nature of the Beast Curse. The moment they decided he didn’t belong among them.

“He was protecting Samha and Lina,” someone whispered.

“Did you see how fast he moved?”

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