Page 76 of The Orc's Bonded Bride

Egon’s breath caught. Lyric walked towards him, dressed in a simple white gown adorned with wildflowers and honeycomb patterns. Her hair had been arranged in the traditional orc braids, crowned with a wreath of flowers. She smiled at him—not the shy, hesitant smile from their childhood, but one full of certainty and promise.

His Beast rumbled with satisfaction, and for once, he agreed completely with its assessment. This female was theirs to protect, to cherish, to love until the end of their days.

His throat tightened as Lyric approached. His Beast—usually restless, dangerous—purred with contentment. She moved with quiet grace, her simple white gown catching the late afternoonlight. The village square fell silent except for the steady rhythm of ceremonial drums.

How had this happened? Weeks ago, he’d been convinced he was meant to walk alone. The scars that mapped his body were proof enough that he wasn’t meant for tenderness. Yet here she stood, looking at him as though he were something precious.

“You’re staring,” she whispered when she reached him, her green eyes bright with amusement.

“Can’t help it,” he said gruffly.

The village elder began speaking, but he barely heard the words. His focus narrowed to Lyric’s face, to the subtle changes time had carved there. No longer the frightened waif from Kel’Vara, she now carried herself with quiet confidence. She’d built a life from nothing, just as he had.

Perhaps that was why they fit together—they were both familiar with broken pieces.

When it came time to speak the binding words, his hands trembled slightly. Not from doubt, but from the weight of what he was being given. A second chance. A future he’d never dared imagine.

“I am yours,” he said, the traditional orc vow falling from his lips. “In battle and in peace, in darkness and in light.”

He added his own words, ones he’d practiced in private: “I will guard your heart as fiercely as I guard your life.”

Her eyes glistened, her smile radiant, as she squeezed his hands, her small fingers strong against his calloused palms.

“I am yours,” she echoed, her voice clear in the hush of the gathering. “In solitude and in community, in loss and in gain.”

Then it was her turn to add her own promises, and his chest tightened. “I will heal the places you’ve kept hidden, and hold your secrets as carefully as you hold mine.”

She leaned up, her lips brushing his ear. “You’ve always had my heart,” she whispered. “And now you have everything else, too. All that I am, Egon.”

He swallowed thickly, overcome. In the distance, the drums continued their steady beat, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, echoing hers.

The ceremony continued around them, but he was lost in her, in the realization that they belonged to each other completely. When the village elder finally announced them bonded, the gathered orcs let out a roar of approval. He lifted Lyric into his arms, her laughter ringing out like music. For the rest of the evening, they would celebrate with their community, but tonight, when they were alone, he would show her exactly what those vows meant. She was his home now, and he was hers. Nothing, not time or distance or the scars of their pasts, could change that.

He watched the celebration unfold around him, the bonfire’s glow painting the village square in amber light. He’d never seen so many of his kind smiling at once. The long tables groaned under platters of roasted meat, fruit, and honeyed bread—a feast worthy of the old tales.

His gaze found Lyric across the clearing, surrounded by Merow, and Amabet, and Jana, laughing as they taught her the steps to a traditional dance. The sight of her—now his mate—still stunnedhim. The Beast inside him, usually restless and dangerous, lay content for once.

“Your face might crack if you keep smiling like that,” Lothar teased, sliding onto the bench beside him.

He grunted, not bothering to hide his happiness. “Let it crack.”

He accepted a tankard of mead from a passing server, watching as several young warriors approached Lyric with respectful nods. They kept a careful distance, but their eyes shone with hope. Not for her—she was his now, marked and mated—but for what she represented.

“They look at her like she’s a sign from the gods,” he said quietly.

Lothar followed his gaze. “She is. We all are. Three brothers, three mates.” He gestured toward the celebrating warriors. “They believe if the gods blessed the sons of the chief, they might be next.”

He understood that desperate hope all too well. He’d carried it himself, buried beneath layers of resignation and duty. Even now, part of him couldn’t believe his good fortune.

“I never thought—” His voice roughened. “I was certain I would die alone.”

“Yet here you are,” Lothar said, raising his cup. “The most stubborn of us all, with the most unexpected mate.”

Across the square, Lyric looked up and caught his eye. Her smile, warm and certain, reached across the distance between them. He felt something tighten in his chest—not the Beast stirring, but something else. Something that had been broken for so long he’d forgotten it could heal.

“Go to her,” Lothar said, nudging him. “Your mate is waiting.”

He rose, moving through the crowd of celebrating orcs who clapped his shoulders and raised toasts as he passed. He understood their joy, their renewed hope. After generations of dwindling numbers and few females, change was coming. The impossible had happened three times now.

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