Chapter 36
Hanna
Savla’s workshop had always felt like a sanctuary the clan didn’t speak about aloud—like a place held together by quiet magick and the careful hands of a male who lived too much inside his own mind.
But now it felt different. It felt like ours.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking, because after everything—after being held in his arms all night, after the kiss and the whispered promises—I couldn’t stop seeing the world differently. Seeing him differently.
He sat beside me on the low couch, one of my legs draped over his as we leaned together, drowsy and warm. Ribbon snored on the floor like a guardian boulder. Sunlight streamed through the skylight, illuminating dust motes and half-finished sculptures scattered across the room.
Savla cleared his throat once, quietly, and I didn’t catch it at first. But then he shifted and fidgeted. Which was... new. His movements were usually efficient and controlled.
“Are you okay?” I tilted my head, brushing my fingers along his arm.
His ears went faintly pink. “There’s something I should show you.”
He didn’t move right away. Instead, he hesitated—this huge, stoic warrior suddenly acting like a youngling hiding a secret drawing in his backpack.
“Savla,” I whispered, brushing my knuckles along his jaw, “whatever it is... you can show me.”
He met my eyes for a long moment before he rose, crossing the room to a workbench in the corner. The one he always kept covered in a cloth, tools arranged neatly beside it. The one he’d moved away from impatiently the night the bond surged.
He grabbed something wrapped in cloth and held it carefully, almost reverently. When he turned, his expression was raw enough to make my throat tighten.
“Just… don’t laugh,” he muttered.
I blinked at him. “Why would I laugh?” I asked, completely confused.
He didn’t answer—he just came back to me and sat, placing the bundle in my hands. The weight of it told me it was wood, but his breathing, which was too quick and too shallow, told me it was important to him.
With slow, gentle care, I unwrapped it. And that was when I saw it for the first time. Two figures, back to back, carved with such precision and tenderness that I felt the breath leave my chest.
One was unmistakably Savla—broad shoulders, the curve of his proud face carved subtly into the grain of the wood, hair sweeping to one side in familiar waves. The other was me. Not overdone or polished in the way he wanted me to look—just me.
My curls were tumbling down my back, and my stance was slightly angled as if I was ready to defend us. My fingers glowing with soft magick he’d carved as delicate wisps in the wood.
Our backs touched, and our heads were tilted slightly toward each other. It showed unity between us—trust and partnership. A future he’d seen even before I dared imagining it.
“Oh,” I whispered, voice breaking.
I traced my fingertips lightly along the carved version of him, then the version of me. The detail was breathtaking, down to the faint smile he’d put on my lips—one I didn’t know he’d ever noticed.
“Oh, Savla… this is beautiful.”
He exhaled, shakily. “I carved it a while ago. Before the glitter spill and before the pigments. Before—” He stopped, breath catching. “Before I let myself look at what I wanted.”
My heart thudded painfully.
“Why didn’t you show me sooner?” I asked.
“Because I didn’t think I deserved to imagine it,” he said, softly.
I looked up sharply, something fierce rising inside me. “Savla.”
His eyes dropped. “I didn’t think I had the right to picture us together. To want this and to want you.” He swallowed hard. “I thought the bond would ruin us before we even began.”
I set the carving aside on the couch cushions, and cupped his face with both hands, turning him toward me.
“You deserve love,” I whispered fiercely. “You deserve dreams and you deserve a future that feels like yours.”
His eyes flicked up to mine—vulnerable and open in a way he never allowed himself to be.
“But what if I carved something that can’t happen?” he asked quietly. “What if I carved a lie?”
“It’s not a lie,” I said, sliding closer until our knees touched and until the air between us hummed with unspoken promises. “It’s a possibility.”
He blinked slowly, like he was absorbing the shape of hope for the first time.
“And I want it,” I breathed. “I want this. I want you.”
He sucked in a sharp breath and held it, his huge, muscular body unmoving. I picked up the carving again, and rested it gently in his hands.
“This isn’t a fantasy,” I said. “It’s a future we can choose for ourselves.”
He stared at the carving for a long moment. Then he whispered, “Hanna.”
It was my name, and I’d answered to it all of my life. But no one had ever said it that way—reverent and raw—with such utter longing and love.
I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned forward and kissed him.
He inhaled sharply, hands rising to cradle my face with aching tenderness. The kiss deepened—slow and warm, the kind that made the world fade until nothing existed except him and the woodsmoke scent of his skin. When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine.
“You really like it?” he murmured.
“I love it,” I whispered. “And one day… when it’s ready… I want it in our home.”
He froze, and I felt his throat move with a hard swallow where I was cupping the side of his thick neck. Then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his chest and holding me like he didn’t know how he’d survived without this closeness. His voice, when it came, was thick with emotion.
“Then I’ll carve the whole damn world if you ask,” he murmured against my hair. I smiled against his lips.
“I just want you,” I whispered.
And he kissed me again—soft, slow and sure—like he finally believed he could have me, too.
Savla’s mouth was hot against mine, gentle but certain, his hands drifting to the sides of my waist like he wasn’t quite sure where to hold me without worshiping me entirely.
It was a touch that was asking for more. Permission to take.
I nodded, desperate for more but he took his time, as always. The way I always knew my male would. There was no rushing him.
The kiss deepened—slow, molten and sweet in a way that made my toes curl and my heart trip over itself. I slid my hands into his hair, tugging him closer because I could, because I wanted to, because—
Thunk.
Something slammed into the couch. Hard.
Savla jerked like he’d been shot. I startled so violently I ended up half in his lap, half on the cushion.
THUNK.
The couch jolted again. And then—
CROAK.
A massive, bulbous head appeared over the back of the couch. Two enormous eyes blinked at us. Ribbon. Ribbon the boulder-sized, emotionally unstable, danger-to-furniture amphibian. He croaked happily, like he’d caught us doing something scandalous and planned to tell the entire clan.
“Oh no,” Savla muttered.
“Ribbon,” I squeaked, trying—and failing—to extricate myself gracefully from the tangle of limbs we’d become. “Sweetheart, what are you doing—?”
Ribbon hopped onto the couch with us. And I knew that the combined weight of a full-grown orc and human plus an almost full-grown mountain toad would severely test the integrity of the couch.
The entire frame shuddered underneath his added weight. I made a noise that was definitely not dignified and Savla grabbed me instinctively, hauling me out of the way just before Ribbon’s full body flopped onto the cushion.
He landed exactly where our heads had been three seconds earlier just as the sofa gave out with a loud crack. My heart sprinted in my chest.
Savla exhaled through his teeth. “…Your toad is a menace.”
“Suddenly, when he’s being bad, he’s my toad. I don’t want to hear what you’ll say when we have younglings,” I shot back without thinking.
He froze. I froze. The bond hummed like it had just heard something scandalous. Ribbon croaked proudly, as if approving the declaration. Savla cleared his throat, ears turning faintly pink.
“…That was... it wasn’t a no. I just... wasn’t sure what to say.”
“Good,” I whispered, equally flustered.
Ribbon, apparently satisfied with his role as romance chaperone, nudged the carving into Savla’s lap. Like he was presenting gifts at a wedding.
“Oh Goddess Mother,” I groaned, covering my face. “He thinks we’re having a bonding ceremony.”
Savla coughed so hard he nearly choked.
“He’s intuitive,” he managed.
“He’s delusional,” I whispered back.
Ribbon croaked loudly—offended—and then flopped over both of us, his entire moist, warm weight pressing me directly into Savla’s chest.
I wheezed. “I can’t—breathe—”
Savla grunted, trying and failing to lift him. “Ribbon, move.”
He refused. Instead, he snuggled.
Savla’s arm was trapped behind my back, his chest pressed flush to mine. Ribbon’s gigantic toad-limbs sprawled over the rest of us like a squishy weighted blanket with no concept of boundaries.
I groaned into Savla’s shirt. “Is he… jealous?”
He sighed. “This is new, but I think I know why.”
“Why?”
“I think he bonded emotionally with you because I imprinted on you.”
My head snapped up. “You imprinted on me?”
His jaw flexed. “Hanna, I just confessed I love you. I’m fairly certain that you can agree that’s even stronger than imprinting.”
Ribbon croaked approvingly, his chin now resting possessively on top of my head. I laughed—helpless and breathless—my face still smushed into Savla’s chest. His heartbeat thundered under my cheek, warm and steady.
He sighed again—softly this time—and slipped his free arm around my waist, his hand settling against the small of my back.
“You’re comfortable,” he murmured. “Even under our toad.”
“High praise,” I teased.
He dipped his head until his lips brushed my hairline. “The highest.”
My heart melted through my bones. Ribbon croaked in triumph, settled more heavily on us, then immediately fell asleep.
Savla whispered dryly, “We’re never getting up from this couch.”
I smiled into his shirt. “Then I guess we’re cuddling forever.”
His breath hitched—just slightly—and then his hand slid up my back, fingers tracing lazy circles that made heat coil low in my stomach.
“Hanna,” he said softly, voice scraping warm along my skin.
“Yes?”
“If this is forever…” He nudged his forehead to mine, breath mingling with mine. “…I’m okay with that.”
Ribbon snored loudly, and somehow that made the moment even sweeter.