Page 25 of Claimed By the Wild Orc
I’d lived these last few years in solitude, away, thinking, contemplating, repenting.
Now, for the first time in my life, I had a chance tonotbe the monster.
To not be feared.
I wanted her happy. Content.Willing.
Because I didn’t want her for a night or a season. I wanted her forever.
That’s why I had to do this right. I couldn’t make the first move.
She was my captive. My prize.
My human.
My mate.
I would wait for her, and she would want me without reservation or hesitation.
MIRA
The storm struck without warning.
One moment, the sky was bruised with twilight. The next, wind howled through the trees like a living thing, rain battering the earth in sheets, the forest gone dark and wild. Thunder cracked overhead—sharp, splitting the sky like bone—and I flinched, instinctive and helpless.
Inside the cave, the fire stuttered, shadows dancing madly across the walls.
I hated storms.
Always had. Back in the keep, my tiny room had a warped shutter that never latched properly. On windy nights, it would slam open and shut with every gust, banging like a drumbeat of dread. I’d lie awake on the cold stone floor, fingers in my ears, heart in my throat, trying not to cry.
I hated the helplessness. The not knowing what might break.
And now, even with solid rock around me, with firelight and warmth and a massive, battle-scarred orc not ten feet away… I still felt it. That cold, creeping fear.
I hesitated by the fire, arms wrapped tight around myself.
Gorran sat near the cave mouth, sharpening his blade with slow, practiced strokes—he spent alotof time sharpening hisblades, and I realized it was a sort of meditation for him—unbothered by the chaos outside. The wind didn’t touch him. The thunder didn’t seem to exist in his world.
Orcs weren’t afraid of storms, it seemed.
At least,thisorc wasn’t.
I watched him for a long moment, then quietly crossed to the furs and slid beneath them.
I wasn’t cold. Not really. But I pretended.
The storm howled louder, and another crack of thunder split the sky. I flinched. Just slightly.
And he noticed.
Without a word, Gorran set down his blade. Then he stood and crossed to me, lowering himself onto the furs with that quiet weight of his, solid and unshakable.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask.
He simply curled around me.
His warmth surrounded me in seconds, his chest against my back, his arm sliding over my waist. One massive hand splayed against my stomach, anchoring me, steadying me.
