Page 60 of The Orc's Captive Bride
One more second—half a second—and he would have lunged. He would have thrown himself between the High King and Thea with complete disregard for the consequences.
And we would both have died.
His Beast had demanded that he keep her safe, and the need to defend her had almost overwhelmed him. That loss of control was the very thing he’d been trained to suppress since childhood.
His breath sounded harsh in the empty corridor. His hands trembled—not with fear, but with barely-contained violence that had nowhere to go.
Thirty-five years of conditioning, and it had nearly shattered in an instant. Because of her. Because of a small human woman with wild auburn hair and defiant grey eyes who shouldn’t have meant nothing to him.
Instead she meant everything, and he had no idea when that had happened or how to stop it.
He heard the door open behind him.
“Khorrek?” she said softly.
He didn’t turn around. He didn’t trust himself to look at her.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said roughly. “You have work to do tomorrow.”
“I slept for hours. I’m not tired.”
“Then study. Prepare. Do something useful instead of standing in doorways.”
He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but she didn’t retreat. He could feel the warmth of her small body against his back as she stepped closer to him.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked quietly.
Yes. No. I don’t know.
He’d meant it when he said she was magnificent, but the longer he stood alone in the corridor outside her rooms, and the more often he replayed the incident in the throne room, the moreterrified he’d become. And the only way he knew how to handle fear was with anger.
“You could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Because he showed restraint. I would have tried to stop him and I would have failed.” He finally turned to face her, letting her see the fury in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how close you came to dying in that throne room?”
She stood in her doorway, still wearing the dress from their audience. Her hair was coming loose from its pins. Her face was pale but composed. Unafraid.
Why is she never afraid of me?
“I know,” she said.
“Do you? Do you understand that he was a heartbeat away from snapping your neck? That I was a heartbeat away from—” He cut himself off. Clenched his jaw.
“Away from what?”
“Nothing.”
“Khorrek—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He turned away again, staring at the stone wall opposite. Focusing on the cracks in the mortar. Anything but her. “Go back inside. Rest. Study. I don’t care which. But do it behind a locked door where you’re safe.”
“Safe from what? Lasseran? Or you?”
The question hit like a physical blow.
“Both,” he said flatly.
