Page 167 of Halfling
That had been their last trip, as Orek had many things he still needed to do before he wed his beautiful mate.
They were already mated in the eyes of orc-kin, their bond so inherent now that Sorcha said she was sure she felt something of what he described, that tether between them that thrummed with love and devotion.
But as they made this new life for themselves, Orek wanted to be bound to her in the human way, too. And as the proud male he was, that meant having a home to offer her.
The turret room in her parents’ house had offered much more privacy and space, but they had agreed they still needed a home that was theirs. One that they could build and fill and expand.
So when the snows had melted, Orek began building their home. It went in fits and starts in the spring, and then not much at all over the summer. But by now, in late autumn, he finally had a home worthy of his mate.
Her father and brothers had all helped, Connor especially, pouring their own love and devotion to Sorcha into the very beams and floorboards. It’d driven Sorcha a little mad that Orek and all the male Brádaighs knew what the house was becoming, for she’d promised not to peek and could only spy the exterior. No amount of cajoling or threatening had garnered her any hints, which likely annoyed her even more.
As Sorcha drew alongside him, her smile radiant, the tension of worrying if everything was right and perfect about the house ebbed into a fizzing anticipation. Soon, he’d show her the home that was theirs.
He couldn’t wait to fill it—with her, with their lives, with younglings.
Orek held his hands out for his mate. After giving her flowers to Aislinn, she placed her hands in his.
“You look so handsome,” she whispered to him.
A flush crept up his neck. All he’d done was find a fine leather tunic that fit well, polished his boots, and combed back his hair. Fulk was the one who’d put the traditional orcish torque around his neck, a staggering gift from an orc chieftain.
“You’re too beautiful for words,” he whispered back, coloring her with her own blush.
Eyes twinkling as he watched them, Lord Darrow finally cleared his throat. “Ready?” When Sorcha nodded, he threw her a wink and began. “As lord of this land, it is a great honor to bind the two of you together today, tomorrow, and for always.”
The crowd gathered quieted at his words, drawing closer in the glen to witness their binding.
Perhaps once Orek may have prickled at so many surrounding him on all sides, but today, he was more than happy to have everyone see his beautiful mate and how they would claim one another. Surrounded by family and friends, making vows to the female who owned him body and soul…it was more than Orek could have ever dreamed.
“Have you, Sorcha Brádaigh, come today of your own free will?”
“I have,” she said, twinkling up at Orek.
“And do you mean to take this male as your husband, to pledge yourself to him, to bind yourself to him, and to give him all the rest of your days?”
“Yes.”
Orek’s heart thudded with all the power and finality of an arrow finding its mark.
Fates, this female.
“And have you, Orek Stone-Skin, come today of your own free will?”
“Yes.”
“And do you mean to take this female as your wife, to pledge yourself to her, to bind yourself to her, and to give her all the rest of your days?”
“Try and stop me.”
The crowd murmured and laughed, and Sorcha smiled up at him with a renewed blush.
Pulling a red ribbon from his pocket, Darrow wound it around their clasped hands, binding them together before knotting the ends.
“Tied together, bound together, joined together.”
The proclamation sank into Orek like the first spring rains, soaking and cleansing. He pulled them deep down into him, the words that declared to all the world that they were bound in every way.
“I declare them husband and wife. What say you?”
