46. Eira
Sunlight filters through the windows and warms my skin as I slowly drift into consciousness. I'm surrounded by warmth, caught in a tangle of limbs that should feel confining but instead makes me feel secure. Grash's arm drapes across my waist, his breath hot against my neck. Murok's breath tickles my ear where he's pressed against my back. Dren's hand rests on my hip, his touch gentle even in sleep.
The mark on my collarbone throbs softly, a reminder of last night's bonding. My fingers trace over it, feeling the raised edges of the ceremonial cut. It doesn't hurt - not like the scars that came before. This mark means something different. Something better.
"Stop thinking so loud," Murok mumbles against my shoulder, his lips brushing my skin. "I can practically hear your mind racing."
"Sorry," I whisper, but I'm smiling. "Old habits."
Grash stirs, his golden-brown eyes opening slowly. "What habits?" His voice is rough with sleep.
"The habit of waiting for everything good to disappear," I admit, surprising myself with my honesty.
Dren's fingers tighten on my hip. He doesn't speak, but his eyes meet mine, understanding flooding his gaze. He knows what it's like to expect the worst.
"Nothing's disappearing," Murok says, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at me. "You're stuck with us now."
"Promise?" The word slips out, vulnerable and raw.
Grash's arm tightens around me. "More than a promise. A bond." His free hand traces the mark on my collarbone. "You're our mate, Eira. And we're yours."
"No more running away through the forest," Dren says softly.
I close my eyes, letting their presence wash over me. For the first time, I'm not searching for an escape route. I'm not calculating how to survive. I'm just... here. Safe. Loved.
"I love you," I whisper, the words coming easier now. "All of you."
Murok smirks against my skin. "We know."
Getting dressed proves to be a challenge when Grash keeps pulling me back for "one more kiss" and Murok won't stop smirking at my attempts to fix my hair. Dren silently hands me my shoes, his fingers lingering on mine longer than necessary.
The walk to my sister's home in the grand hall feels surreal. Grash's hand rests on my lower back, while Murok walks ahead, clearing our path through the busy settlement. Dren stays close to my right, his presence steady and reassuring.
The moment we enter, my breath catches. The hall gleams with hundreds of candles. The long tables are laden with more food than I've seen in years. My sister Kira stands near the head table, beaming, her orc chief husband towering protectively behind her.
"You didn't have to do this," I say, but my voice cracks with emotion.
"Of course I did." Kira rushes forward, pulling me into a tight embrace. "My little sister just completed her mating ritual. With three warriors, no less." She pulls back, grinning. "Always had to outdo me, didn't you?"
"Kira!" Heat floods my cheeks, but I'm laughing.
"Come, sit," her husband gestures to the places of honor. "Today we celebrate family."
Grash guides me to my seat, his touch possessive yet gentle. Murok settles on my other side, while Dren takes the seat directly across, his silver eyes never leaving mine.
"To new beginnings," Kira raises her cup, and the hall erupts in cheers.
I look around the table - at my sister's radiant smile, at her husband's proud stance, at my three mates who watch me with such devotion - and something tight in my chest finally unravels. This is what home and family means.
"You're thinking too hard again," Murok murmurs, his fingers finding mine under the table.
"I never thought I could have this," I admit quietly.
Grash's arm slides around my waist. "Get used to it."
Dren reaches across the table, touching the mark on my collarbone. "Forever," he says simply.
I lean into their touches, soaking in their warmth, their love, their protection. The hall buzzes with laughter and conversation, the air rich with the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread. My sister catches my eye from across the table and winks.
This is better than any fantasy I could have conjured in my darkest moments. This is real - my mates, my sister, my family, my home.
I soon embrace Kira tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender that still clings to her hair after all these years. "Thank you for everything."
"You're always welcome here," she whispers, squeezing me once more before stepping back. "Now go explore your new home with those handsome mates of yours."
Heat creeps up my neck as Grash's hand settles on my lower back. Murok chuckles beside me, and even Dren's lips twitch in a rare smile.
"Ready?" Grash asks, his thumb tracing circles against my spine.
The settlement sprawls before us as we exit the grand hall, a maze of stone buildings and wooden structures connected by torch-lit paths. The night air is filled with smoke from nearby hearths.
"This is the training ground," Murok says, gesturing to a wide clearing filled with practice dummies and weapon racks. "Where I'll teach you proper knife work."
"I already know how to use a knife," I remind him, thinking of the dark elf guard whose blood had stained my hands.
"Yes, but I'll teach you to use it better." His blue eyes gleam with challenge.
We pass the marketplace, where even at night, a few vendors still chat and laugh. An elderly orc woman waves at us, her smile warm and welcoming. "About time these three found someone to keep them in line," she calls out.
"I'll do my best," I reply, surprised by how natural it feels to joke with her.
Dren leads us down a quieter path, his hand finding mine. We stop at a small garden tucked between buildings, filled with herbs and flowering plants I've never seen before.
"The healers grow everything here," he says softly. "For medicines and teas."
"And poisons," Murok adds with a smirk.
"Always the optimist," Grash grunts, but his eyes are fond.
A group of children runs past us, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. They don't hesitate or stare at me - the human among orcs. Instead, they wave cheerfully before disappearing around a corner.
"The young ones train here," Grash explains, pointing to a smaller practice yard. "I help teach them sometimes."
The image of Grash surrounded by children makes my heart flutter. "You're good with kids?"
"He's terrible," Murok says. "They climb all over him like he's a tree."
"They respect me," Grash protests.
"They use you as a jungle gym," Dren murmurs, making me laugh.
As we walk, more settlers greet us with genuine warmth. No one looks at me with suspicion or disgust. There's no whispered judgment, no sideways glances. Just acceptance.
"Everyone's so..." I trail off, not sure how to express my surprise.
"Welcoming?" Murok finishes. "Of course. You're our mate. That makes you family."
Family. The word settles in my chest like a warm ember. I look at my three warriors - Grash's protective stance, Murok's knowing smirk, Dren's quiet devotion - and I truly believe I've found where I was meant to be.
"There's something we want to show you," Murok says, leading me down a winding path away from the main settlement. The gravel crunches beneath our feet as we climb higher into the hills.
Grash's hand stays steady on my back, while Dren moves ahead, clearing branches from our path. The air grows cooler as we ascend, carrying the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine.
"Almost there," Murok promises, his braids swaying with each step.
We emerge into a small clearing atop the hill. My breath catches in my throat. A natural pool of crystal-clear water reflects the stars above, surrounded by luminescent flowers that pulse with a soft blue glow. Stone benches carved with intricate designs circle the area.
"This is beautiful," I whisper, taking in the secret sanctuary.
"We found it when we first joined the settlement," Grash says, pulling me down to sit between his legs on one of the benches. "No one else comes here."
Murok settles beside us, while Dren takes his place on my other side. I lean back against Grash's chest, tilting my head to gaze at the vast expanse of stars above. His arms wrap around my waist, and I feel his heartbeat steady against my back.
"It's strange," I murmur, watching a shooting star streak across the sky. "Several weeks ago, I was in the pits, thinking I'd die there. Now..."
"Now you're with us," Murok finishes, his fingers finding mine.
Dren's hand rests on my knee, his touch grounding me in the present. "Who would have thought," he says softly, "that we'd find love in such darkness?"
The words make my chest tight. "I never thought I'd find love at all."
"And now you have three times as much," Grash rumbles against my ear, making me smile.
"Lucky me," I tease, but my voice catches with emotion.
The luminescent flowers pulse in rhythm with the night breeze, casting ethereal shadows across our faces. Above us, the stars seem close enough to touch, like diamonds scattered across black velvet.
"I used to count stars," I admit quietly. "Through the small window where my master kept me. It helped me remember there was a world beyond those walls."
Murok's grip tightens on my hand. "And now?"
"Now I count my blessings instead." I turn and look at each one of them. "One, two, three."
Grash cups my face in his massive hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. His golden-brown eyes lock with mine, reflecting the starlight above.
"I vow to be your shield," he whispers, his breath warm against my lips. "No one will ever hurt you again. I'll die before I let that happen." He kisses me deeply, possessively.
Murok steps forward next, his braids swaying in the night breeze. His blue eyes pierce through me and my heart stutters.
"I vow to be your sword," he says, tracing my jaw with his fingertips. "To fight not just your battles, but your demons too. You'll never face anything alone again." His kiss is different - calculated, thorough, leaving me dizzy with want.
Dren approaches last, his silver eyes gleaming in the darkness. He doesn't speak at first, just brushes his thumb across my lower lip.
"I vow to be your shadow," he murmurs finally. "Always there, even when you can't see me. Nothing will take you from us." His kiss is gentle but deep, filled with a devotion that makes my heart ache.
"I never thought I could trust anyone," I admit, my voice barely a whisper. "But you three... you make me want to believe in forever."
"Then believe," Grash says, pulling me against his chest.
"We're not going anywhere," Murok adds, his hand finding mine.
Dren simply nods, but his eyes say everything his words don't.
I trace my fingers over the raised scars on Grash's chest, following the patterns of his tribal tattoos. The luminescent flowers cast shifting shadows across his skin, making the marks seem alive. His heartbeat thrums steady beneath my touch.
"What now?" The question slips out before I can stop it. The night breeze carries the sweet scent of jasmine, and somewhere in the distance, an owl calls.
Murok shifts closer, his braids brushing my shoulder as he presses a kiss to my temple. His lips linger there, warm and sure. "We live."
The simplicity of his answer makes my chest tight. Living - not just surviving - feels like a foreign concept after so many years of merely existing.
Dren's silver eyes catch the starlight as he speaks, his voice carrying that quiet certainty that always steadies me. "We fight."
I know he doesn't just mean with blades and fists. He means fighting the nightmares that still wake me, fighting the doubt that sometimes creeps in, fighting to keep this precious thing we've built.
Grash's arms tighten around my waist, pulling me closer against his chest. The heat of him seeps through my clothes, chasing away the night's chill. "We stay together."
My smile comes easier now, natural and unguarded. The luminescent flowers flicker with a blue glow, like earthbound stars mirroring the vast expanse above us. The pool reflects it all - the stars, the flowers, the four of us tangled together on the stone bench.
This is only the beginning, I realize. Not an ending, not a finale, but a start of something I never dared to dream of having.