Page 161 of Halfling
“Never,” he agreed.
Pulling herself up, Sorcha took his lips in a searing kiss, sealing his promise between them. Her taste spilled through his mouth, and he pushed his tongue inside hers, hungry for her. A purr sparked in his chest, the beast inside ferociously pleased to have her here with him.
When she broke away, her eyes had dried, though now she looked at him pensively. Orek never liked that look, nor the words that came after.
“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, my heart.”
“No. I…I let myself get caught up in my duties. I didn’t make a place for you in my life. But I promise, it’ll be different. We’ll move into the turret room until we can build a house and we’ll fill it with whatever you want. We’ll do whatever you want, go traveling or help Aislinn or go rescue every raccoon in the forest, I don’t care, just say you’ll come back with me—”
“Shh, shh,” he soothed, pressing his lips into her skin and tasting the salt of fresh tears. “I go where you go, my mate. You are myhome,Sorcha. My clan. I’m sorry I ever made you doubt it.”
She hiccupped on a sob, and Orekhatedit. He held his mate tight, hating that he’d brought her to tears. His own pooled, slipping down his temples.
Fates, I was almost lost to her. I’m such a stupid bastard.
He opened his mouth to assure her more, but someone clearing their throat grabbed his attention. A growl burst through his chest, and Orek snarled up at the encroaching male and clutched his mate tight.
It took him a moment to realize it was Sorcha’s father and Lord Darrow standing nearby.
Reluctantly, he whispered in Sorcha’s ear and helped her sit up. Together, they stood to meet the knights, dismounted now. Orek drew his arm around Sorcha, tucking her close to his unwounded side.
Well, the side without the cut. Her body pressed to his reminded him of the broken ribs, but even as those stabbed at his lungs in a steady throb, he could ignore it. He’d never allow his mate away from his side ever again.
“You look like shit, my boy,” remarked Darrow. “But glad to see you in one piece, at least.”
“Thank you,” Orek said, holding out his hand.
Darrow shook it, followed by Ciaran.
Something passed between him and Orek before the man looked at his daughter, tucked tight to Orek’s side.
“You’re family now,” said Ciaran.
Orek nodded, unable to force words past the knot in his throat.
Sorcha tapped his chest, and he watched as Fulk carefully approached with Niall and another knight at either side with spears.
The older orc stopped a respectful distance away when Orek bared his fangs. He didn’t like so many males so close to his mate, whose eyes were still wet with tears. He knew how she hated appearing weak and wished he could hide her away.
Fulk leveled him with an inscrutable look. “You killed Krul.”
“Yes. He threatened my mate.”
Fulk nodded. “By our laws, that makes you chieftain.”
The other orcs murmured amongst themselves, and Orek didn’t miss Kaldar’s hiss of disgust.
A dark, vicious part of Orek reared its head in interest, mind swirling with what it would be to be chieftain. What a clan he could make. His father, and Krul too, would howl in the afterlife to know the halfling runt sat where they sat, ruled what they ruled, succeeded where they failed.
His mate’s hand touched his chest, just over his heart. When she asked what was said, he repeated it to her in the human tongue.
Her eyes went wide and accepting, and she gave him a small nod. His heart stuttered in amazement to realize—she will stand beside me, be chief’s mate.
She would do this, for him.
The realization nearly brought him to his knees as surely as Krul’s battle axe swinging for his head.
