15. Mira
MIRA
T he fire had burned down to embers, soft red glows threading through the blackened wood. Shadows crawled across the walls of the cave, long and restless. I lay curled in the furs, pulling them tight around my shoulders, every sense sharpened by his absence.
I knew he was out there.
I could feel him. Somewhere beyond the cave mouth, stalking the treeline like a silent predator, keeping watch. Keeping me safe. But keeping distant out of some sense of orc—or just Gorran —morality.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t quiet. It kept replaying the way he’d looked at me over dinner, the way his lips had quirked when I teased him. The way he’d kissed me under that tree… rough and unyielding, but as if some part of him had been holding back.
What would the… rest of him feel like?
I didn’t want to think about it.
But when I drifted off, I dreamed of him anyway.
In the dream, his mouth was on my neck, my chest, trailing heat over every inch of me.
His weight pinned me down, heavy and solid, his tusks scraping softly against my skin, his breath hot in my ear.
My body arched into his as though it belonged there, as though I’d been waiting for that touch all my life.
I woke with a gasp, trembling. My thighs clenched, slick with heat, and I hated how my hands moved on their own, slipping under the furs, desperate and aching.
I tried to be quiet. Gods, I tried. The dark was thick around me, the only sound the faint rasp of my own breath, but I knew. I knew he could sense everything. He always could.
The thought of him hearing me— knowing —only made the heat coil tighter inside me. My breath hitched, and I bit my lip, chasing that fever until it broke like fire.
When it was over, I lay there panting, flushed and damp, furious with myself.
And that’s when I realized I wasn’t alone.
The air shifted, and I felt him there, just beyond the glow of the embers. Watching.
I bolted upright, my hair sticking to my damp forehead. “You…” My voice caught, rough with sleep and anger.
There was a long silence. Then his steps, slow and deliberate until he was just a shadow at the edge of the firelight.
“I think,” he said, voice low and dark, “you want to be kept.”
“I—” Filled with the essence and urgency of him, of his presence, my voice cracked. “Why me?”
His eyes caught the dim glow of the embers, molten gold in the dark. “Because I want you. But I will not force you. In the end, Mira, you will come to me. That is what I want.”
My chest rose and fell, too fast. His presence filled the cave, solid and unshakable, and for a moment, I didn’t know what I wanted: to fight him, or to close the distance between us.
“I don’t even understand you,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“There’s confusion in you. Conflict. I’ll give you time,” he murmured, his tone softer now.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and I sensed the power, tightly coiled, restrained within him.
It took my breath away, and made me want to scream—not out of fear, but out of pure…
what? Need? “You must choose. But don’t lie to yourself, Mira. ”
His words stole the air from my lungs.
The firelight cracked faintly, throwing a dull glow over the sharp lines of his face as he stepped closer, moving with that unshakable confidence, like nothing in the world could unmake him. My breath hitched despite myself.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My fingers clenched around the edge of the furs, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I said, but it came out softer than I meant, almost pleading.
“I can’t,” he replied simply, voice low enough to vibrate through the still air.
The cave felt too small, the space between us vanishing until he stood over me, close enough that the warmth of his body pressed against my skin even though he hadn’t touched me yet. His eyes—deep green threaded with gold—were locked on mine, dark and knowing.
“Gorran…” My throat was dry. “Don’t.”
He crouched, his size filling my vision, and for a breathless moment, I thought he’d kiss me. Instead, his hand lifted slowly, fingers brushing my hair back from my face, a single gentle stroke. The rough pads of his fingers skimmed my temple, down the curve of my jaw. I froze.
I should have pushed him away. I should have said something sharp, anything. But I leaned into that touch, just slightly, and my breath trembled out of me.
“You’re afraid, hesitant,” he said softly. “But not of me. The walls in your mind aren’t of my making, but of yours—of the humans that owned you. You need to unmake them yourself.”
My lips parted, but I didn’t answer. Because he was right.
He let his hand linger a moment longer before pulling back, though his gaze never wavered. “I will not force you. Not now. Not ever. You will come to me when you’re ready.”
“And if I never am?” I asked, defiant.
The corner of his mouth curved, slow and almost dangerous. “Then I’ll keep waiting. But we both know you will be.”
My face burned, and I turned away, angry at him, angry at myself. He stood then, the shadows clinging to his broad frame as he moved toward the cave mouth.
“Get some sleep,” he said, his voice rougher now. “I’ll keep watch.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me tangled in the furs, heart racing, lips tingling from a kiss that hadn’t even happened.