Epilogue
Isadora
I groaned a little as I straightened over the steaming cauldron, pressing one hand against my lower back and twisting the kinks out of my neck. Boiling a large amount of ash-water solution was never pleasant, but doing it in the midday midsummer heat had to be the worst.
Luckily, my Mate had hung the cauldron over the firepit behind our home so the cottage wouldn’t smell so horribly.
My hair had grown out in the months since my arrival in Bloodfire Village, but ‘twas still too short to do aught more with than tie it beneath a kerchief. Torvolk kept me supplied with colorful kerchiefs—and what he couldn’t find here in the village, he traded for—but the little whisps of pale hair still stuck to my sweaty forehead and the back of my neck.
Irritating as all the hells.
I had to smile at myself as I pulled the wooden stick from the solution and watched the liquid simmer. Hells . I was already sounding like my Mate.
When I’d first arrived, I’d listened to Nan and the other human women speak of orcish customs and religion as if they claimed them as well, and wondered how that was possible.
But in a few short months, I was cursing like an orc. Believing like an orc. Celebrating like an orc. And most definitely loving like an orc.
I sighed happily and wiped my hands down my stained soap-making apron.
Aye, Bloodfire Village was my home in the way the human world had never been, and I’d found my family. Not just Torvolk’s kin—of which there were many—but the women who accepted and supported and loved me the way I did for them.
“Morning, Isadora!” The call came from the front of the garden. “We can smell you back there.”
Laughing, I strolled to the front fence. “I am not the only one who needs laundry soap. You should be thanking me for stinking up this half of the village.”
Myra was making a show of plugging her nose against the acrid scent, but Avaleen merely laughed as she waved her hand in front of her bairn’s face.
“’Tis not so bad,” she admonished her sister. “As long as you do not breathe…”
I chuckled as Myra began to gag playfully.
“Oh, stop,” I chided, resting my hip against the rail that surrounded Nan’s herbs and flowers. “At least I chose a day with a nice breeze.” Although from the way my gown was plastered to my back with sweat, you wouldn’t know it. “Where are you two off to?”
“Lillian,” announced Myra, abruptly straightening, all teasing forgotten as she gestured to the basket she carried. “Now that she is getting bigger, I promised Kragorn I would find a way to keep her ankles from swelling so much.”
I nodded, sticking my tongue out at the bairn on Avaleen’s hip and smiling at the sweet laughter.
The last six months had brought so many changes for all of us. Avaleen’s difficult birth had been scary, aye, but Lillian’s public breeding had been even stranger. I’d been shocked to learn of the tradition, whereby the clan witnessed the joining of our chief and his new Mate…
But I knew for a fact Torvolk and I hadn’t been the only ones to be so aroused by the spectacle we’d consummated our own love right then and there.
And now that Lillian was carrying the next Bloodfire chief, we’d made a reluctant sort of treaty with the Bladesedge clan to the south. After all, with her sister Mated to the Bladesedge chief, there wasn’t any way we could continue feuding.
“Are you making soap for the Midsummer Festival?” Avaleen asked, wrinkling her nose as the wind carried the scent toward us. “Or for trading?”
“This is for later in the season.” I jerked my head toward the back garden and the simmering pot. “But dinnae fash , I made your Midsummer gifts of soap weeks ago.”
“Honey and whisky?” Myra asked, brightening. “My favorite.”
“I ken,” I drawled, and Avaleen giggled, a sound echoed by her bairn.
“You are sounding like one of our Mates!”
We all had a chuckle over that, but my head popped up as I felt Torvolk approaching.
Aye, for certes, he came around the corner of Nan’s house, his expression neutral but a bucket of water cradled in the crook of his arm.
I still wasn’t certain how the Mate bond worked, but if anything, it had become stronger in our months together. There is a knowing . Not only did I know Torvolk held my heart…but I was becoming increasingly aware of where he was, and what his feelings were, even before he spoke.
Now, for instance, I could read his intention for that water, and I brightened.
“Hello love,” I murmured, stretching up on my toes to brush a kiss over his jaw.
“Isadora,” he grunted. He turned to my friends. “Ladies, I’m stealing my Mate.”
Avaleen giggled and Myra rolled her eyes, but I didn’t see anything else, because I was already imagining how good that water was going to feel. Torvolk hooked his arm around my waist and tugged me toward the front door of our cottage.
Inside was bright with all the windows open, and not as stuffy as it should be. But my Mate tugged me toward the screen which hid our bed.
“Is that water for me?” I asked teasingly.
“Ye are hot and sweaty and smell wrong. Ye need a bath.”
“Aye, I do,” I agreed, raising my brow at his gruff announcement, already untying my kerchief. “But the hot springs do not sound appealing, and I notice you have not dragged the tub inside.”
“Nay.” He plopped the bucket down atop our chest and reached for a bar of soap and a rag. “Take off yer gown, lass.”
I sucked in a breath, the familiar heat pooling between my legs, the way it always did when he said something to remind me of those first days together—when I thought he owned my body and I wanted him to claim me.
“Torvolk,” I murmured, already unlacing my bodice.
“Hurry,” he commanded, stepping up to me, the green in his eyes flaring brightly.
I hurried.
Not just because I could sense his need. Not just because I felt his cock throbbing against my hip. Not just because my own body was suddenly humming with desperation for his touch.
But for all three of those reasons and a million more.
When I stood naked before him, my Mate took his time cleaning me, running the cool water over my salty skin, washing me— licking me . ‘Twas torturously delicious; the temperature of the water cooled me down from my morning of sweaty work, but then his lips and fingers heated me again.
And Torvolk? He was insatiable. I wasn’t certain what was different today, but his strength was more demanding than usual, his touches more frantic. He stopped frequently to press his nose against my skin, to run his tongue across my sensitive areas.
When I was clean, he scooped me into his arms and lifted me high, running his tongue down my stomach. My brows rose as I grabbed at his hair.
“Torvolk? Love?”
“Nay,” he growled, tossing me onto the bed. “No’ good enough. No’ right.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but then his mouth was between my thighs, and I lost all thought. He buried his tongue in my cunny, stroking and licking and sucking, until I was mad with need.
I heard him groan as my pleasure exploded, but he didn’t stop. Usually, he was aware of how sensitive I was after a climax, but today he didn’t stop licking me, lapping at my core as if he could eat me right up. He nuzzled closer and I gasped at the intensity of it.
Something was different.
“Torvolk,” I groaned, tugging at his hair. “ Master .”
Normally, the old nickname made him smile, but today he merely lifted his head, repositioned himself between my thighs, and plunged into me.
I screamed his name as another orgasm burst over me, but he didn’t slow to allow me to enjoy it.
“Mine,” he growled as he pounded into me. “Mine. Mine .”
Breathless, I could do little more than wrap my arms and legs around him as my cunny pulsed around his cock, squeezing him closer, closer, closer…
He came with a roar as my climax was finally receding, and we both collapsed, spent and breathless onto the bed.
We weren’t still long, though, because Torvolk’s hand ran up and down my spine, and I eventually shuddered, pressing myself against his chest. I was so sensitive !
“Different,” he muttered.
I lifted my head. “Aye, I agree. Mayhap ‘tis my part of the cycle?” But that wouldn’t explain his response.
His eyes were closed, and now he inhaled, long and steady.
“Yer scent…’tis different.” When he opened his eyes, the green glow had faded to a mere spark. “What changed?”
“Different, how?” I poked him teasingly. “Bad? You used my favorite soap.”
Torvolk lifted his head to press his nose against my hair. “Different…” Another inhale. “I smell ye. And me. Mixed together.”
Grinning, I lifted myself up, so his seed slid from my cunny and coated his skin. “I wonder why.”
His lips tugged upward, almost reluctantly. Clasping his hands around my waist, he rolled me off him and went to fetch the wet towel to clean me. I confess the cool cloth felt good after the power of our fooking.
After, though, he gathered me to him, his habitual frown back. His hand ran over my naked shoulder and arm. “When I tasted ye, I tasted myself. Ye are different…”
Scoffing, I nudged him, but his hand fell to my stomach, and his gaze followed. The intensity I saw in his eyes drew my own gaze.
“Torvolk?”
“Mine,” he murmured. “My scent and yers, mixed together.” When he looked up at me, there was wonder in his expression, wonder which made my heart begin to thump in excitement.
“A kitling, Isadora.”
“I am pregnant?” I breathed, emotions swelling inside me. Not quite disbelief, but a kind of wonder at such a thing could happen to me. “Truly? I have no symptoms.”
“Early still.” He shifted so I rested on my back and his head lay on my stomach. “So small. So miraculous.”
Feeling almost giddy with excitement and joy, I twined my fingers through my Mate’s hair.
“Not so unexpected, however, considering what you have been doing to me every night. And day. And sometimes twice afore dinner.”
I felt him grin against my stomach, then he kissed me. “A kitling. Ye’re going to be the most perfect mother, Isadora.”
Would I? I’d never known a mother’s love, not until I discovered Bloodfire Village and the families here. I wanted to curl around him, wanted to savor this moment.
“And you will be his strong and loving father. Are you happy?”
Torvolk lifted his head, and I could read the astonishment in those green-flecked eyes.
“How could ye doubt it?” He pressed a kiss to my skin. “I have a home, a clan…” Another kiss. “A son on the way…” This kiss was lower, closer to my curls. “And the most perfect Mate a male could hope for.”
When his tongue made another swipe, I hummed, distracted, and arched toward his mouth.
“Happy,” I repeated on a gasp.
“Aye, love.” He settled between my legs, his lips curling wickedly. “A happy life begins with making ye happy.” He scraped his tusk along the inside of my thighs, making me shudder with anticipation. “I need to show ye how pleased I am with ye, after all.”
My hands went to his head. “Have I told you how glad I am you were there in that tavern that night, Torvolk? Twenty gold pieces seemed an exorbitant amount—I could not believe a male would think me worth that.”
His green gaze blazed. “Ye’re worth a hundred times that, love. A million. Because ye’re mine , and I am yers.”
I grinned softly, gently urging his mouth toward my core. “Forever, master .”
With a growl of agreement, he gave me what I needed.
Forever.
Don’t want to leave Bloodfire Village just yet?