Chapter 6
Garruk
Dawn comes slowly.
The storm is still thick with winds muttering against the walls, but the worst has passed. Light slips through the shutters in pale stripes across the floorboards, and Ava stirs beneath the furs. The bond thrums awake instantly, a warm, steady pull beneath my ribs.
She blinks sleepily with her eyes soft and her cheeks flushed from the heat of the hearth.
Her hair is tousled, and her lips are still faintly pink from last night's kiss.
I should keep my distance, but I lost most of my strength for restraint the moment she leaned into me and whispered, "You can kiss me. "
"Ava," I say, keeping my voice low.
She looks at me for half a heartbeat, and something in her gaze unravels whatever resolve I had left. It's warm and open and wanting.
"Morning," she whispers.
"How do you feel?"
She shifts and winces faintly, glancing down at her ankle—swollen but wrapped well, healing. But when she looks back up at me, there's nothing hesitant in her eyes. "Garruk," she says softly. "You said you'd tell me today."
A cool draft brushes the cabin, and I swear the mountain listens. I move closer, slow so she can stop me if she wants to. She doesn't. Her breath catches, and her fingers tighten in the furs on my bed.
"I'm an orc," I say, the words heavy on my tongue. "Born in these mountains. My brothers and I hid when humans hunted our kind, and now we stay hidden because history would only repeat itself if humans knew we were here."
She doesn't flinch. "Okay."
I blink. "Okay?"
Her fingers brush mine, tentative but steady. "You saved my life. You've taken care of me. You treat me better than any human ever has, so yeah. Okay."
The bond surges so hard my breath breaks.
"Ava. There's more."
Her lips part. "Tell me."
I kneel beside the bed, letting the truth settle between us like something solid and real.
"When I found you, I felt the bond. Thurok'hai—an instinct older than any story humans remember.
It ties one heart to another forever, but it doesn't take by force.
You must choose whether to accept it or reject it. "
She studies me with eyes deep and searching. "And you? You don't get a choice?"
"I don't want a choice." My voice cracks despite my best efforts. "I want you. But I'll let you walk away if you choose freedom over me."
Something flickers through her expression. Disbelief, shock, and something dangerously close to tenderness. "Garruk," she whispers, sliding her hand fully nto mine. "I don’t want to walk away.”
Heat detonates through me at those words. Her pulse flutters at her wrist, and her scent floods my lungs. I cup her jaw gently, offering her every chance to pull away.
She leans into my palm.
"Come here," she whispers.
The last of my restraint dissolves. I lift her carefully into my arms with her injured ankle protected and settle her onto my lap. Her thighs bracket mine, and she gasps softly at the movement—not in pain, but in wanting.
Her hands slide up my chest with fingers trembling. "You're so warm," she breathes.
I groan, quiet and desperate. "You undo me."
I kiss her. Not careful this time, not holding back. Her mouth opens under mine, soft and hungry, and her fingers dig into my shoulders as I pull her closer, devouring the taste of her, the sound of her breath, the way she melts into me like she was made for this moment. For me.
Because she was.
She breaks the kiss on a stuttered inhale. "Garruk—"
"Ava." Her name trembles out of me.
She grips my tunic hard. "Don't stop."
I lift her chin, needing to see her eyes clearly. "You choose this?"
Her voice is barely more than breath. "I choose you."
Something inside me breaks wide open. I slide my hand beneath her shirt, fingers tracing the warm curve of her waist, and she shivers, arching into my touch. I kiss down her jaw, slow and reverent.
"You're beautiful," I murmur against her skin. "Soft. Strong. Mine."
She exhales on a shiver. "I want—" Her breath hitches when my thumb brushes inside her bra. "God, Garruk—yes. I’m yours."
Her shirt comes off in one fluid motion, and I take my time then, tracing every inch of exposed skin, learning the softness of her stomach, the curve of her ribs, the perfect weight of her breasts under my hands. She moans softly with her head tipping back, inviting more.
I lower my mouth to her chest, kissing a slow path along the top of her bra and savoring the sound she makes when my tusks graze her lightly. "Garruk," she gasps, tangling her fingers in my hair. "Please."
I groan against her skin, desperate with need. I ease her onto the bed, bracing myself above her, careful of her ankle, drinking in the sight of her—flushed, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust.
"Tell me if anything hurts," I say.
"It only hurts when you're not touching me."
A growl slips out, low and primal. The rest of our clothes go fast—hers first, each layer revealing more warm skin, more soft curves I want to worship. Mine after, her fingers shaking as she pushes my tunic up, desperate to feel me.
When her hands finally trace the lines of my chest, my breath breaks completely. She looks up at me with wide eyes. "You're huge."
I manage a strained laugh. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
"I know." She cups my face with both hands. "I trust you."
Nothing in my life has ever hit as hard as those words. I kiss her again—deep, slow, with the reverence she deserves—and then I slide my palm down, past her stomach, between her thighs.
She cries out softly with her back arching and her hips lifting to meet my hand. Her warmth, the way she trembles under my touch, it's almost too much to bear.
"Perfect," I rasp. "You're perfect."
Her breath comes faster now, and her fingers grip my shoulders as I stroke her, building her gently, watching her lose herself under my hand. When she shudders and goes tight around my fingers, moaning into my mouth, the bond surges—blinding and consuming. Her pleasure hits me like flame.
When she comes apart, panting and trembling, I drop my forehead to her shoulder and fight for control. She pulls me closer with her legs wrapping around my hips.
"I want more," she whispers. "I want you."
I lift my head, my breath ragged. "I'll go slow."
"I don't want slow," she says, her eyes dark with heat. "I want you to lose yourself in me."
I line myself against her, moving carefully and giving her time to adjust to my size. Her breath catches in a sharp, sweet sound, and she digs her fingers into my arms.
"Ava—" I choke out. "Tell me—"
"Don't stop," she gasps. "Please, don't stop."
I drop my head and kiss her fiercely as I push deeper, every slow inch a battle against instinct screaming to take, to claim, to bond fully. But she clings to me, meeting me with equal hunger, her hips lifting and her voice breaking on my name.
Hearing it like that unravels me completely. We move together, finding our rhythm, and the bond pulls tighter, building between us like something inevitable. Every movement draws a sound from her throat, every gasp a spark straight into the bond.
"Look at me," I whisper.
She does, and I break. I kiss her hard as my release tears through me, the bond flaring white-hot—not snapping into place, not trapping—but opening like a door thrown wide.
Her arms wrap around me, and I know she feels it too. When it fades, I collapse gently onto my forearms above her, breathing like I've climbed the mountain three times without stopping.
Ava strokes my jaw, soft and slow, her body still trembling under mine. "You okay?" she whispers.
I nod once. "You undid me."
She smiles—small, tender, devastating. "Good."
I ease onto my side and pull her carefully into my arms with her head on my chest and her fingers tracing slow circles against my skin. The storm outside has quieted almost completely, and inside, her heartbeat settles against mine.