18. Serah
SERAH
Our home feels too quiet.
I've been sitting beside Rakk for hours now—curled on the edge of the furs with my hand wrapped around his—and the silence presses against my ears like physical weight.
Outside, the clan continues existing. Voices drift through the canyon.
Footsteps echo. Life moves forward despite everything that just shattered and reformed in the span of a single racing accident.
But in here, there's just the steady rhythm of Rakk's breathing and the occasional pop from the brazier in the corner.
Zurkar left an hour ago after checking on Rakk for the third time since he was moved here.
His violet eyes were grave but not panicked when he turned to me.
"His strength will see him through. The magic I used to knit the worst of the internal damage, combined with Lola's salves and the tonics...
he'll recover. His magic makes him more resilient than most."
His magic. Those two words have been circling through my mind like predatory birds ever since Rakk's confession on the canyon floor.
I tied my life to yours during the mating ceremony.
All your pain comes to me instead.
Even if it kills me, you'll never have to bear it.
I study his face in the firelight—sharp features softened by unconsciousness, dark hair falling across his forehead in a way that makes him look younger than his years.
The tusks that used to terrify me now just seem like part of him.
Part of the orc who somehow decided a broken human woman was worth dying for.
Purple bruises mottle his olive-green skin. His chest is wrapped in clean bandages that cover the worst of the damage—ribs that shattered when I hit the ground during the race. Bones that broke in his body to spare mine.
Guilt churns through my stomach like sickness.
I've spent so much time pushing him away. Refusing to look at him. Jerking from his touch like he was poison instead of safety. Convinced he'd manipulated me, used me, reduced me to breeding stock.
And the entire time, he was destroying himself to protect me.
The door opens quietly. I glance up to find Kaelen and Lola entering with food and fresh water.
Lola's silver-blonde hair is pulled back from her face, and her bright blue eyes are red-rimmed like she's been crying.
Kaelen looks exhausted—the kind of bone-deep weariness that comes from carrying your best friend's bleeding body through a terrified clan.
"Has he woken at all?" Lola asks softly, setting the tray down on the table near the brazier.
I shake my head. My voice comes out rough from disuse. "Not yet."
She moves to check Rakk's bandages with practiced efficiency. After a moment, she hums in satisfaction. "Healing well. Faster than a human would. The magic helps."
"The magic." I taste the words. They feel strange on my tongue. "I didn't know he had magic. Real magic, not just... I know orcs have it but I didn't know you could do that kind of thing."
"Most can't." Kaelen settles into a crouch beside the bed, his golden-amber eyes grave. "Rakk is different. Always has been. His magical ability manifested when he was young, and it terrified his father."
Lola sits on my other side. She takes my free hand—the one not clutching Rakk's—and squeezes gently.
"Thorne values warrior strength above everything else.
When Rakk started showing signs of power that had nothing to do with physical combat...
Thorne made him hide it. Made him promise never to use it publicly. "
"Why?" The question comes sharp with confusion. "If he's that powerful—"
"Because it makes him vulnerable," Kaelen interrupts. "Or at least, that's what Thorne believes. A warrior who relies on magic instead of strength can be seen as weak. Unreliable. Wrong."
The injustice of it hits me like a slap. "So Rakk has spent his entire life pretending to be less than he is?"
"Yes." Lola's voice carries infinite sadness.
"He's had to keep secrets his whole life.
Hide parts of himself that made his father uncomfortable.
And orcs..." She glances at Kaelen with something like apology.
"Orcs aren't exactly good at talking about feelings or complicated things.
Everything is action and honor and proving yourself through deeds rather than words. "
Kaelen snorts. "She's not wrong. We're terrible at communication."
"But Rakk tried." Lola turns her attention back to me.
"He's been trying so hard with you, Serah.
I've watched him struggle to find the right words, the right approach.
He wanted to give you space to heal. Wanted to let you make choices about your own life after years of having no control.
But he didn't know how to explain that without sounding like he was making excuses. "
The guilt intensifies. "I never gave him a chance to explain."
"You were protecting yourself," Kaelen says firmly. "After what you survived, after the trauma you endured... of course you assumed the worst. Anyone would."
"But I was wrong." My throat tightens. "I spent so much time convinced he was manipulating me when the whole time he was..." I can't finish the sentence. Can't articulate the magnitude of what Rakk has sacrificed.
Lola squeezes my hand again. "He loves you.
He's loved you from the moment he touched you in the healing chambers and felt the depth of your suffering.
Kaelen told me Rakk came to him once, weeks ago, and said he felt like he was drowning in you.
Like his magic was pulling him toward you and he couldn't stop it even when he tried. "
Tears burn behind my eyes. "Why didn't he just tell me?"
"Because he was terrified of spooking you," Kaelen answers.
"He knew you'd been used and hurt and controlled.
The last thing he wanted was to make you feel trapped or forced into anything.
So he gave you space. Let you decide how much contact you could handle.
And when the clan started pressuring him about mating, when warriors started circling you like prey... " He trails off meaningfully.
The festival. Gornak grabbing my arm. Rakk's sudden, explosive announcement that destroyed any possibility of negotiation.
"Serah is mine. I'm already breeding her, and I will not share her with anyone else. We will mate, and no one else will touch her."
The memory still stings. Still carries the sharp edge of humiliation and betrayal. But now, layered over it, I can see the desperate panic underneath. The split-second decision made by an orc watching predators close in on his mate and knowing he was running out of time to protect her.
"He made a mistake," I whisper. "But he was trying to save me."
"Yes." Lola's voice is gentle but firm. "And then, when he realized how badly he'd hurt you...
he bound his life to yours. Made it so you'd never feel pain again even if it killed him.
That's not manipulation, Serah. That's love so desperate and all-consuming that it became willing to die rather than see you suffer. "
The tears finally spill over. They track hot down my cheeks and drip onto the furs covering Rakk's massive body.
Kaelen stands, gesturing for Lola to follow.
"We'll leave you two alone. He should wake soon.
And when he does..." His expression softens with something like hope.
"He's going to need you, Serah. Not as a mate he has to perform dominance over.
Just as you. The woman he's been willing to sacrifice everything for. "
They leave quietly, closing the door behind them with a soft click.
The silence returns. Heavier now with everything I've learned.
I shift closer to Rakk, studying the lines of his face. The purple bruising that marks where my injuries transferred to his body instead of mine. The bandages wrapped around ribs that broke so mine could stay whole.
All those times in public, I think with dawning horror. When he grabbed me roughly to maintain appearances. When he dragged me from the plaza or manhandled me at gatherings. Every single time, the pain came to him instead.
I'd checked for bruises obsessively those first two weeks. Examined my wrists and arms every night expecting to find marks. And there were never any. I'd thought it was strange. Thought maybe he was just better at controlling his strength than it appeared.
But no. He was literally absorbing every bit of force into his own flesh. Breaking himself in small ways over and over to keep me unmarked.
The realization cracks something fundamental in my chest.
"You're an idiot," I whisper to his unconscious form. "A complete, self-sacrificing idiot who doesn't know when to stop protecting people who don't deserve it."
But even as I say it, warmth spreads through my ribs. Because Rakk thought I did deserve it. Thought I was worth every broken bone, every transferred bruise, every piece of himself he gave away to keep me safe.
Movement draws my attention downward. Rakk's fingers twitch against mine. His breathing changes—becoming less deep, more conscious. The shift from unconsciousness toward waking.
My heart lurches into my throat.
His eyes open slowly. Dark brown and hazy with pain and lingering exhaustion. They wander unfocused for a moment before landing on my face. Recognition floods through his expression, followed immediately by something that looks like fear.
"Serah." His voice comes rough and broken. "You're—are you hurt? Did the—"
"I'm fine." I cut him off before he can spiral into panic. "I'm completely fine. Not a scratch on me because apparently my mate is insane enough to tie his life to mine without telling me."
He flinches at the words. Looks away like he expects anger or rejection. "I'm sorry. I know I should have asked. Should have told you what I was doing, but there wasn't time and I—"
"Stop." I press my fingers against his lips. "Let me talk. Please."
He goes still beneath my touch. Those dark eyes fix on my face with an intensity that feels like drowning.