12. Mira
MIRA
H e moved like the forest belonged to him.
Silent, deadly, his body a map of scars and muscle.
I trailed behind, watching the way he crouched low, how his shoulders tensed just before he threw the knife.
All it took was one strike—clean and brutal—and the rabbit didn’t even have time to realize it was prey.
He caught another.
And then, another. I followed behind at a slight distance, and Gorran shushed me whenever I stepped on a stick or brushed against a thicket.
Half-amused, half-irritated. That was the feeling he gave off.
The hunt was much shorter than I’d anticipated.
“Let’s go.” Gorran carried the rabbits slung over one broad shoulder, as if I couldn’t possibly be trusted to handle them.
“I can carry those,” I said, jogging up beside him.
“No.”
“No?” I repeated, my voice sharp. “You’re injured. I’m not.”
“You don’t need to carry them.”
My irritation spiked. “I want to carry them. And I can skin them, too, you know. I’m not useless. Just because you’re… whatever you are doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”
He stopped walking and turned to face me, towering over me with that maddening calm. “You think I want you helpless?”
“You treat me like it,” I shot back. “If you want me to…” I swallowed the words, heat creeping up my neck. “If you want me to stay , you can’t just expect me to sit around like some pampered doll.”
The word stay hung between us, heavy and unspoken.
His eyes darkened, a dangerous glint sparking there. “Stay,” he repeated, voice low.
I realized what I’d just said and cursed inwardly, stepping back. “Forget it.”
But he didn’t let me.
In a blur, he pinned me to the rough bark of a tree, his hands braced on either side of my head. His breath was warm against my cheek, his body close enough to make my pulse stutter.
“You want to fight me?” His voice was gravel, deep and rough. “Or something else?”
I should have shoved him. I should have said something cutting. Instead, my hands fisted in his chest, and I pulled his mouth to mine.
The kiss hit like a storm. He was hard. Hungry. His teeth grazed my lip, and I bit him back, a sound low in my throat. His hands slid to my thighs, lifting me as if I weighed nothing, my back pressed against the tree, his body pinning me there.
Heat roared through me, dangerous and wild.
Then he stopped.
Just like that, he tore his mouth from mine, breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine for a moment before he pulled back.
“Not here,” he said, voice harsh. “Not like that. You’ll beg when it’s real.”
Something came over him. Something I didn’t quite understand. A sudden fierceness twisted his features for a heartbeat, quickly controlled. He stared at me long and hard, then let out a deep, shuddering breath, his nostrils flaring.
And then… he shook his head and lifted me up before I could protest. With one damn arm, and I felt his strength, his warmth, his bulging muscles.
Too much.
I’d never known anybody this overwhelming.
This damn orc… he carried me. Just… scooped me up as if I were weightless and walked back to the cave.
There, he laid me down on the furs, untouched, and left me burning.