Page 71 of The Orc's Bonded Bride

“Lyric had a vision from Freja.” He watched his brothers’ reactions carefully but both of them seemed to accept his statements. “She believes Jessamin is in danger, and through her, Ulric as well.”

Lothar swore. “If it’s true, that’s the second time Jessamin has been targeted. Why is she so important?”

“I don’t know. All Lyric received was an impression of danger.”

“I appreciate the fact that Freja seems to want to help us, but would it hurt her to be a little more clear?” Lothar grumbled.

The faint sound of a female’s laugh drifted through the room, and the brothers exchanged startled looks. Lothar shifted uncomfortably.

“Did you hear that?”

“I’m sure it was one of our mates.” Wulf didn’t appear as convinced as his words suggested but neither he nor Lothar contradicted him. “I’ll leave for Port Cael in the morning,” he added. “You will remain and keep watch?”

The question was directed at both of them, but he nodded.

“I’m home now,” he said quietly, and for the first time the words felt true.

He followed his brothers back to the main room where their mates waited. His mind raced with everything they’d discussed—Lasseran’s plans, the Beast warriors, the looming threat. But beneath those concerns, a more immediate need pulled at him. After days of travel, of constant vigilance and shared danger, he craved time alone with Lyric.

She sat with Jana and Kari, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. When she looked up and met his gaze, the connection between them hummed like a plucked bowstring. Even across the room, he felt it.

“We’ve made arrangements for you both,” Wulf said, breaking into his thoughts. “There’s space here if?—”

“My cottage,” he interrupted, surprising himself with his decisiveness. “If that’s acceptable.”

Lothar’s lips quirked in a knowing smile. “Of course it is. Your home has been waiting for you.”

He shifted uncomfortably under his brother’s teasing gaze. “It’s small, but private.”

“I’m sure Lyric won’t mind the close quarters,” Lothar added with a wink.

He shot his brother a warning look before turning to Lyric. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, rising to her feet. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said to Wulf and Kari.

“You’re family now,” Kari replied warmly. “There’s no need for formality between us.”

The words struck him with unexpected force. Family. Lyric was his family now, bound to him in ways he’d never dared hope for.

They said their goodbyes, promising to return in the morning. As they stepped outside, the cool night air washed over them. His cottage lay at the village’s edge, nestled against the forest’s boundary—a reflection of his own existence, always straddling two worlds.

“It’s not much,” he warned as they walked. “I built it myself, but it’s… simple.”

She slipped her hand into his. “I don’t need much.”

The quiet confidence in her voice eased something in his chest. They walked in comfortable silence, the tension of the day slowly ebbing from his shoulders. For the first time since leaving her village, he felt as if he could breathe fully.

His cottage appeared ahead, a small structure of stone and timber, smoke curling from the chimney—someone had prepared for their arrival. A lantern glowed in the window, casting a warm light across the path.

“Home,” he said, the word still strange on his tongue. He pushed open the door, suddenly anxious about her reaction.

He watched her as she moved through his cottage, her fingers trailing over the rough-hewn furniture he’d crafted himself. His chest tightened with each step she took, anxiety prickling beneath his skin. The place seemed smaller now, its imperfections magnified by her presence.

“It’s not much,” he repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t spend much time here before…”

She turned to him, her eyes warm in the firelight. “It’s perfect, Egon.”

He blinked, certain he’d misheard. “Perfect?”

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