Page 89 of Claimed By Stone
“I vow,” I whispered, voice low and rasping, “to worship you like the precious thing you are.”
She blinked up at me slowly, then smirked. “Iampart goddess, you know.”
I arched my brow. “Believe me, I know.”
Her smile widened, wicked and soft all at once. “Then don’t hold back. I can takeeverythingyou have to give.”
That was it. The last tether of restraint snapped.
The rut surged forward, wild and consuming. I kissed her hard and deep, hands roaming, claiming, needing. She opened to me with no hesitation, her body arching, welcoming, as if she’d been born for this. Born for me.
And I would give her everything.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Epilogue
SERAPHINA ~ SIX MONTHS LATER
The mountains were finally green again.
I stood barefoot in the tall grass, toes sinking into the sun-warmed earth as the scent of blooming wildflowers filled the air. A gentle breeze tugged at the hem of my flowing linen dress, and I tipped my face to the sky, soaking in the late spring sun like I was something that could bloom too.
Callie’s laughter rang out from the nearby clearing where she was trying—and failing—to keep three orclings from eating their flower crowns. Her belly was round with her own orcling, full of promise. She waved a daisy chain like a threat while they darted around her legs, giggling and shrieking.
I’d never imagined peace could feel like this. Not like a pause in the storm, but a deep exhale. A life. My life.
I sat cross-legged on a blanket with a sketchpad in my lap, lazily sketching the trees in bloom, the orclings' muddy feet, the way Callie glowed with impending motherhood. The same glow I felt inside me, the quiet warmth of something sacred and shared.
The bond hummed softly in my chest. He was close.
“Found you.”
I didn’t need to turn around to know he was smiling. I felt it ripple through the bond, that soft velvet warmth that always preceded him.
Thavros crouched behind me, his arms sliding around my waist as he pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck. “You’re glowing brighter in the sun,” he murmured, voice low and wicked. “You’ve made every poet in the stronghold unbearable.”
I laughed as he nuzzled into my hair. “I can’t help it if orcs get sentimental.”
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a fruit—plump, deep red, and dripping with dew. “Stole this from the garden,” he said. “Pomegranate.”
I raised a brow. “You and your symbolism.”
Still, I bit into it. Juice ran down my chin, sticky and sweet. His growl rumbled against my spine as he watched.
“Keep looking at me like that,” I warned, “and you’re going to start something.”
“I intend to finish it,” he said, then scooped me up into his arms.
Callie called after us, laughing, “Try not to traumatize the wildlife!”
I waved over Thavros’s shoulder. “No promises!”
He didn’t waste time.
