Page 52 of The Orc's Bonded Bride

He returned her smile, but then his gaze drifted back up the trail to the clearing where he’d fought with Khorrek. His expression had transformed, the pain of his wound seemingly forgotten as something deeper took hold. The fading sunlight cast shadows across his features, making the scars on his face appear deeper, more pronounced.

“What did he say to you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the forest’s edge, as if he could see Khorrek’s retreating form through the thick trees and encroaching night.

“That Lasseran has been experimenting.”

A chill ran through her that had nothing to do with the night air. “Experimenting how?”

“Creating an army of Beast warriors, but not ones like us, or even ones like Khorrek. Ones that are completely under his control and unable to think for themselves. Khorrek thinks he’s going to try and establish control over everyone subject to the Beast Curse.”

She took his hand, squeezing it tightly. There were no words that could ease the pain of this kind of revelation. She simply held on, offering what comfort she could through her touch.

Lyric couldn’t bear the hollow look in Egon’s eyes. The revelation about his past had opened wounds she hadn’t knownexisted, leaving him adrift in painful memories. She reached for him, her palm against his cheek, turning his face toward hers.

“Egon,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”

His eyes refocused slowly, finding her in the darkness. The firelight caught the moisture gathering there, unshed tears that spoke of a lifetime of suffering.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here. With me.”

She kissed him then, softly at first, a gentle reminder of their connection. His response was hesitant, almost fragile, as if he feared breaking something precious. Lyric wouldn’t let him retreat. She deepened the kiss, her fingers threading through his hair, anchoring him to the present.

“I choose you,” she murmured against his mouth. “Not your past. Not what was done to you. You.”

Something broke in Egon then—the wall he’d built around his heart crumbling as he pulled her against him. His big hands trembled as they cradled her face, his touch reverent despite their strength.

“Lyric,” he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips.

She spread out the bedroll and guided him on to it, mindful of his wound but determined to remind him of what they’d found together. Their bodies met in the flickering shadows, skin against skin, her hands mapping the terrain of scars that told his story.

Lyric moved above him, taking control, showing him with every touch that she wanted him—all of him. His Beast, his past, hisscars. She accepted everything he was, everything he had been forced to become.

“Look at me,” she commanded softly when his eyes drifted closed.

When he did, the raw vulnerability there nearly undid her. She leaned down, kissing him deeply as their bodies joined, finding their rhythm together. Each movement was a promise, each shared breath a covenant between them.

In that moment, there was no curse, no Lasseran, no dark past or uncertain future. There was only the two of them, choosing each other despite everything that stood against them.

Lyric nestled against Egon’s uninjured side, her head resting on his chest where she could hear the steady drumming of his heart. The night wrapped around them like a protective cloak, the stars visible through the canopy above. Despite everything—the danger, the revelations, the uncertain path ahead—she felt strangely at peace.

“What are you thinking?” Egon’s voice rumbled beneath her ear, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her bare shoulder.

“That I never expected this,” she admitted, pressing her palm against his chest. “When I saw you at the edge of my garden, I thought you were a ghost from my past. I never imagined…”

She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t need to. The warmth of his body against hers spoke volumes about what had changed between them.

Careful not to disturb his bandaged wound, she propped herself up to look at him. In the dying light, his features were softer, the harsh lines of his scars melting into shadow. His amber eyesreflected the embers’ glow, watching her with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“We should sleep,” she said, though she made no move to pull away. “Tomorrow will come too soon.”

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. “I’ve spent too many nights alone to waste this one sleeping.”

She smiled, turning her face to press a kiss against his palm. “Then we won’t waste it.”

Drawing the blanket over them both, she settled back against him as the night deepened around their small haven.

CHAPTER 21

---