Chapter 20 #2
He makes a pained sound. “I don’t remember. It’s all... fragments.”
“That’s okay. I remember. And I know you didn’t hurt me.”
“I killed them.” No remorse in his voice. Just fact.
“They were going to kill the both of us. You stopped them.”
His arms wrap around me, pulling me tight against his chest. I feel his heart pounding beneath my cheek, racing like he’s still running through the forest. His hands move over my body, along my back, my sides, my hips, as if he’s checking for injuries.
It should feel clinical, but it doesn’t, every touch sends sparks across my skin.
“No one will ever harm you,” he growls against my hair. The sound is savage, possessive, and it makes something hot twist low in my belly. “Anyone who tries will die.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I know.”
“Mine.” His hands tighten on my hips. “My Bride. Mine.” He’s calmer now, but the mating drive hasn’t faded.
If anything, it’s intensified. The scent bomb triggered every protective instinct he had, but now that the danger is past, there’s only one drive left.
“I need—” He can’t finish the sentence. His hips roll against me again, that massive length pressing against my belly. A groan escapes him, low and desperate.
I should be scared. I should push him away, tell him to wait until he’s fully himself again.
But I’m burning from the inside out too.
My nipples are hard against my sweater. My thighs are pressing together, trying to ease an ache that’s only getting worse.
The adrenaline from the attack, the near-death experience, the sight of him destroying those men to protect me—it’s all transformed into something else.
Something hot and desperate and demanding.
Maybe that mist from the scent bomb did something to me too.
I basically want to strip him bare and climb him like a tree.
I remember that desperate kiss last night and I remember imagining his body moving over mine. My fingers gripping those black horns while I scream out my orgasm. Now those horns are longer, sharper, more wicked. And he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me whole.
But even in this state, with his eyes still more black than brown, and his body transformed and thrumming with need, he stops and pulls back slightly. His whole body trembles with the effort of restraint.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice is wrecked, barely human. “Tell me and I’ll stop. I’ll find a way. I’ll—” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ll find a way.”
Even feral, even half out of his mind with need, he’s giving me the choice. He won’t take what isn’t offered. He’ll tear himself apart before he takes something I don’t want to give.
My heart cracks open. “Keric. Look at me.”
His eyes open. The black is fading and that chocolate brown bleeds back in around the edges. “I can smell your arousal,” he grits out. “I know you want me to provide you relief, but I need words, Anna. I have to know you’re choosing this. Choosing me.”
Consent. Even now.
The last piece of wall around my heart crumbles to dust. “I want you,” I tell him, my voice is steady. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you gave me your jacket.”
He makes a sound like I’ve wounded him.
“I’m not saying this because of your scent or the adrenaline or because I’m scared.” I cup his face in both hands, force him to look at me. “I’m saying this because I choose you. I choose us.”
“Anna—” His voice breaks. “There’s no going back for me. I won’t be able to let you go. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“I’ll want to fill you with my seed. I’ll want to put a child in you. Sons.”
I respond with a wide, watery smile because I understand this is what makes him different. What makes modern orcs different.
For thousands of years, orcs like him didn't ask.
They took. Carried women off to dark caves and kept them until spring, whether they wanted to stay or not.
Human mobs with pitchforks and torches would come looking for their daughters and sisters, and the cycle of violence and mistrust between species just kept spinning.
But Keric—even now, with the scent bomb still poisoning his system, and his body transformed into something ancient and primal—is asking. Giving me the choice his ancestors never gave.
Modern orcs don't kidnap. They follow human laws and wait for consent. And here he is, shaking with the effort of holding himself back, because my words matter more to him than his own desperate need.
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. “I know.”
“And you still—”
I reach up and wrap my fingers around one of his horns. The effect is immediate and devastating. His whole body shudders. His eyes roll back. A pained, desperate moan escapes from his lips.
“Yes, I want your sons,” I whisper. “I’m not on any birth control and I fully understand what that means. When we make love, I’ll instantly become pregnant. And I think that’s the sexiest, most lovely idea of my life. I’m ready,” I tell this huge orc. “Fully ready, for everything.”