13. Gorran
GORRAN
T he taste of her was still on my tongue.
I paced the mouth of the cave, the forest beyond painted in the bruised colors of twilight.
The rabbits hung gutted and cleaned by the fire pit—cleaned with skill, precision even.
I’d expected her to flinch at the blood, to fumble with the blade, but Mira had handled the work like someone who’d done it a hundred times.
The memory of her slender hands moving with quiet competence still burned in my mind.
She was inside now, crouched over the pot, the scent of rabbit stew mixing with smoke and pine. And I was out here, because if I stayed near her, I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands off her.
My blood ran too hot. My chest was tight with the effort of holding myself back.
She didn’t understand what she did to me.
One spark, one sharp look, and I wanted to claim her. Not because she was human, soft, and mine by orc law, but because every bite of her words, every defiant breath she took, drove me closer to the edge.
When I pinned her to that tree earlier, I wanted to take her mouth, her body… take everything until there was no fear left in her, only me.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because Mira wasn’t some prize to drag into my bed like the spoils of war. I wanted her to want me. I wanted her to choose it.
Gods, I didn’t know what was worse: the way her lips had parted when I kissed her back, or the sound she’d made when I lifted her, like she was fighting me and herself all at once.
I scrubbed a hand down my face and let out a slow breath.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I’d spent my life taking what I wanted. A knife for hire, a Hvalgar with no tribe, no roots. I thought I knew what desire was. I thought I knew what hunger meant. But Mira… Mira was different.
She had fire.
Even when she was afraid, she pushed. Snapped at me. Insisted on carrying the damned rabbits, as though she needed to prove she wasn’t breakable. She didn’t just surprise me, she unsettled me.
I turned, glancing inside the cave. She was moving about with purpose, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. She hadn’t looked my way once since I stepped out.
She was probably replaying that moment under the tree as much as I was.
I almost stepped back inside, but stopped, my boots grinding into the earth. She deserved better than me looming over her like some wild thing; my hands itched raw with wanting.
The truth was, I wanted to give her everything. A life without fear. Without hunger. I wanted to keep her in my arms until the world itself burned out.
She didn’t understand that yet.
But she would.
I let out a low, quiet snort, amused despite myself. Who would’ve thought I’d fall this fast, this hard? Me, who never stayed in one place long enough to remember a face. Now I couldn’t get hers out of my head: those fierce eyes, that wild, chestnut hair, the stubborn tilt of her chin.
I wasn’t giving her up. Not now. Not ever.
But for now… I’d wait.