Her Rugged Orcs

42. Eira

42

EIRA

T he hearth fire bathes our naked bodies in a golden glow as I lay between my three orcs. Grash's massive arm drapes across my waist, while Dren's fingers trace patterns on my shoulder. Murok's braids tickle my cheek as he nuzzles closer. The guilt that's been eating at me suddenly surges, sharp and cold despite their warmth.

"What's wrong?" Murok asks, his piercing eyes studying my face. Of course he notices - he always notices everything.

I swallow hard. "I need to tell you something." My voice comes out smaller than intended.

Grash's arm tightens slightly around me. "Tell us what?"

The words stick in my throat. How do I explain that when they accused me of betraying them, they were right? That I'd been so hurt learning I was simply a mission that I wanted them to suffer too?

"Remember when you thought I was tipping off the dark elves?" My fingers twist in the fur beneath us. "You were right."

Dren goes still beside me. Grash's breath catches. But Murok - Murok just watches me with those knowing eyes.

"You knew," I whisper, meeting his gaze. "You knew the whole time, didn't you?"

"Yes." His voice holds no judgment.

Tears burn behind my eyes. "I was so stupid. When I found out I was simply a mission, I thought..." I take a shaky breath. "I thought everything between us was a lie. That you were just using me like everyone else had."

"Never," Grash growls, his voice rough with emotion.

"I know that now." I turn to face them fully. "When you were wounded, Grash - I realized how foolish I'd been. How real this was. How real it had always been."

Dren's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. His eyes say what his voice doesn't - that he understands, that he forgives me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I should have told you sooner."

My confession hangs in the air, but there's more truth that needs to come out. The fire crackles, sending shadows dancing across our intertwined bodies as I gather my courage.

"When you accused me that night... of betraying you to the dark elves..." My voice catches. "I acted so hurt, so angry. But the truth is, I was terrified because you'd figured me out. I wasn't mad at you at all - I was disgusted with myself."

Murok's fingers trace along my spine. "I know."

"You let me push you away. Let me act like the wounded party when I was the one who..." The words taste bitter in my mouth. "When I was the one who betrayed you first."

"You needed time," Murok says simply.

A bitter laugh escapes me. "Time to what? Pretend I was the victim when I was the villain? I created this whole charade of being hurt by you when really..." My fingers dig into the fur. "When really I just couldn't stand myself. A worthless slave who betrayed the only ones who ever truly cared for her."

Grash's grip tightens. "You're not worthless."

"Why did you let me keep up that act?" I ask, looking at Murok, my voice small. "You knew I was lying about being angry with you. You knew it was all just... self-hatred."

"Because," Murok says, tilting my chin up, "sometimes people need to find their own way back to the truth."

Dren's hand finds mine in the darkness, his touch gentle. A silent reminder that I'm not alone anymore.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," I whisper.

"Good thing it's not about deserving," Murok replies. "It's about love."

The word makes my heart ache. Love - the very thing I'd been so afraid to believe in, I'd nearly destroyed it trying to prove it couldn't be real.

The tears flow freely now, hot against my cheeks as I lay wrapped in their warmth. Grash's massive chest rises and falls against my back. Dren's fingers brush away each tear as it falls, his silver eyes holding mine with such tenderness it makes my heart tighten. Murok's breath tickles my shoulder as he leans closer, his presence steady and sure.

"I don't understand," I whisper, my voice catching. "How can you forgive me so easily?"

"Nothing about this was easy," Murok says, his thumb tracing my jawline. "For any of us."

A sob escapes me. "But I betrayed you. I wanted to hurt you because I thought..." The words get stuck in my throat. "I thought what we had couldn't be real."

"And now?" Grash rumbles against my ear, his arm tightening around my waist.

"Now I know what real love is." My fingers find his, intertwining. "It's this. It's understanding. It's forgiveness."

Dren shifts closer, pressing his forehead to mine. His silence speaks volumes - of acceptance, of devotion, of a love so deep it transcends betrayal.

"You changed everything," I continue, looking at each of them through my tears. "You showed me that love isn't about power or control or ownership. It's about choice. And I would choose you every time. All of you."

"As we would choose you," Murok says softly, his usual sharp wit softened by emotion.

The firelight dances across our intertwined bodies, casting shadows that seem to bind us together. In this moment, I finally understand what I've been fighting against for so long - the simple, overwhelming truth that love, real love, is about being accepted, flaws and all.

"I love you," I whisper, the words feeling like freedom on my tongue. "Even when I was angry, even when I was scared - I loved you."

Their touches, gentle yet possessive, tell me everything I need to know. This is what coming home feels like. This is what healing feels like. This is what love truly is.

I turn and face Grash, my heart pounding with newfound certainty. My fingers trace his jaw, feeling the rough texture of his scars beneath my touch. His eyes lock with mine making my breath hitch.

"I wholeheartedly choose you," I whisper, pressing my lips to his. He tastes like wilderness and thunder, his kiss fierce yet tender. His massive hands cup my face with a gentleness that still surprises me.

Turning to Murok, I see the knowing glint in his piercing blue eyes. A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, but there's vulnerability there too, hidden beneath his usual confidence.

"And you," I breathe, capturing his lips. He kisses like he fights - precise, calculated, yet passionate. His braids brush against my cheeks as he deepens the kiss, making me shiver.

Finally, I face Dren. His eyes hold mine, speaking volumes in his silence. My fingers thread through his dark hair as I draw him close.

"Always you," I murmur against his mouth. His kiss is different - soft, reverent, like a prayer. His hands tremble slightly as they rest on my waist, and I feel the depth of his devotion in every gentle touch.

"You're stuck with us now," Murok says, his voice husky. "No taking it back."

"Good." I smile through my tears. "Because I'm never letting any of you go."

Grash pulls me against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady under my palm.

Dren's fingers find mine, squeezing gently. The firelight catches the silver in his eyes, and for once, I see everything he never says aloud written plainly on his face - love, devotion, promise.

My heart feels too full, expanding with a joy I never thought possible. These three impossible, beautiful souls have become my home, my future, my everything. And for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of what tomorrow brings - because I'll face it with them.

The hearth's warmth seeps into me as I lay nestled between my three orcs.

"Comfortable?" Grash rumbles, pulling me closer.

"Mmm," I murmur, my fingers still intertwined with Dren's, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my palm.

Murok nuzzles the back of my neck, pressing a soft kiss behind my ear.

The fire pops and crackles, casting dancing shadows across our intertwined bodies.

The weight of Grash's arm, the gentle press of Murok's chest against my back, the tender way Dren's fingers remain laced with mine – it creates a cocoon of safety I never thought possible. My eyelids grow heavy as sleep begins to claim me.

"Rest," Grash murmurs, his voice thick with his own exhaustion.

I let myself drift off, surrounded by their warmth, their love, their protection.