Chapter 11 #2
Medical instinct overrode the chaos in my chest. "Is it Ardin? Did the wound get infected? Is he—"
"No." His voice was gravel and smoke. "Everyone is well."
Relief crashed through me, followed immediately by confusion so profound it made me dizzy. "Then why—"
He moved closer, and I catalogued everything my racing heart had missed. The exhaustion carved into his features, the dark circles under his eyes, the barely restrained tension in every line of his body. His hands flexed at his sides like he was physically holding himself back from reaching for me.
"You told me," he said, each word weighted with something that made my knees weak, "that if I needed you, I should come."
The world tilted. "Ruka..."
"I need you, Jordan." His voice dropped, intimate and raw despite the open air between us. "I need you."
"I don't understand," I whispered, gravity pulling me closer. "Are you sick? Ruka, you look like you haven't slept in days."
Something cracked across his expression—a flash flood of pain and longing and frustration that made my chest ache. "I haven't."
My hand found his arm before conscious thought could intervene, fingers pressing against warm skin as professional concern wrestled with something far more dangerous. "How long? Tell me what's wrong."
"You." The word landed between us like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through everything I thought I understood. "You are what's wrong."
Time stuttered. My fingers remained frozen against his forearm, feeling his pulse beat wild beneath my touch. "I don't—"
"Every time I close my eyes, I see you." His gaze pinned me in place, fierce and unrelenting. "Every single time, Jordan. Every night my sleep is haunted by dreams of you."
My breath caught in my throat.
"Every breeze carries your scent," he continued, his voice dropping into something that felt like a secret being dragged into daylight.
"Lavender and something else, something sweet that is you and you alone.
I catch it in the village, in my home, in the forest. Everywhere.
You're everywhere and nowhere, all at once. "
"Ruka..." My heart was a wild thing trying to escape my chest.
He closed the distance between us until I could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, could see the tremor running through his hands like a current.
"Nothing feels right without you. The village hasn't changed, my family is the same, my clan continues as it always has, but I—" He pressed a fist against his chest, right over his heart. "I am not the same. I am incomplete."
The confession hit me like a physical force, driving the air from my lungs.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I looked up at him, desperate to understand but terrified of misunderstanding.
I knew what I hoped he meant, what every cell in my body was screaming he meant, but I needed the words.
"Ruka, what are you—what does that mean? "
He dragged a hand through his dark hair, and I watched the war playing out across his features—frustration, longing, something almost like fear. "There's a story the elders tell. Something from our history. A legend."
"What story?" My voice came out threadbare.
"Before the underground. Before the exodus.
" His eyes found mine, holding them captive.
"My people had something the surface dwellers called magic, but we knew as truth.
When an Orc found their mate—their true mate—the earth itself would sing in recognition.
A bond that transcended choice, that rewrote your very existence around another person. "
The world tilted slightly on its axis.
"It wasn't metaphor. It wasn't poetry." His voice dropped to something raw, almost reverent.
"It was as real as breathing. You would know your mate the way you know your own heartbeat—inevitable, essential, impossible to deny.
And when we descended into the deep places, when stone and darkness separated us from the living earth.
.." He swallowed hard. "The bonds went silent.
Generation after generation, nothing. We thought it was gone forever, bred out of us like our tolerance for sunlight. "
My fingers were still pressed against his forearm, and I felt his pulse hammering beneath my touch, wild and erratic.
"But then you stumbled into our world with your stubborn heart and your gods-damned scent.
" His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen.
"And suddenly I understood every single word of the elders' stories.
Because you've rewritten me, Jordan. You've become the axis my world spins on.
I don't know if it's the old magic finally waking up, or if it's something about you specifically that's called to something in me that I didn't even know existed, but—"
He stopped, his jaw working as if the next words were fighting their way out.
"You're my mate," he finally said, and the words landed between us like a vow. "And I'm yours. I feel it in my bones, in my blood, in every breath I take. You are mine, and I am yours, and I don't know how to be anything else anymore."
The first tear caught me by surprise—a hot streak down my cheek that I only noticed when Ruka's thumb swept it away. Then came another. And another. My vision blurred as something that had been wound tight in my chest suddenly unspooled, releasing a pressure I hadn't even known I was carrying.
I'd known he wanted me. That much had been obvious in every heated glance, every touch that lingered a heartbeat too long, every time his breath caught when I walked into a room. But this? This was the a hope I'd been too afraid to even whisper to myself in the dark.
Mate.
Not just attraction. Not just the heady rush of new relationship energy or the comfortable compatibility of shared interests.
This was the kind of connection I'd stopped believing in somewhere between burying my parents and watching yet another relationship fizzle out like a sparkler in the rain.
The fairy tale I'd learned to roll my eyes at, the love at first sight nonsense I'd dismissed as Hollywood fantasy.
I thought about all those nights in the break room, half-listening to the other nurses dissect the latest episode of The Bachelor, watching contestants sob over finding their soulmate after two dates and a group activity.
I'd laughed at the drama of it all, the manufactured certainty, the impossible speed of it.
Love didn't work like that. Real love took time, careful evaluation, a sensible progression through clearly defined relationship stages.
Except here I was, tears streaming down my face, because apparently love didn't give a damn about my carefully constructed theories.
Because standing here with Ruka's confession hanging in the air between us, feeling the truth of it settle into my marrow like it had been waiting there all along, I finally understood what all those crying contestants had been trying to say.
Sometimes love isn't a logical process. Sometimes your soul just recognizes its match, and all the rational arguments in the world can't explain it away.
And God, the way he was looking at me—like I'd hung every star in his sky. Like I was the most beautiful female in existence despite my ratty Van Halen t-shirt, pajama bottoms, and sleep-mussed hair.
My heart felt like it might burst right out of my chest, swelling with hope so fierce and bright it bordered on painful. The idea should have sent me running. Instead, it felt like finally exhaling after holding my breath for years.
"You really want me?" The words tumbled out broken and desperate, my voice fracturing around the vulnerability. "You really want me?"
Ruka's thumb swept across my cheek, catching my tears.
The touch was achingly gentle, reverent even, as if I were something precious he was afraid might shatter.
Those amber eyes—those beautiful eyes—burned with something so intense, so utterly unguarded, that it stole what little air remained in my lungs.
"More than anything I have ever wanted in my life.
" Each word landed like a vow, rough and raw and absolutely certain.
"More than the surface world. More than the old ways.
More than breath itself." He pressed his forehead to mine, and I felt the cool curve of his tusks frame my lips like parentheses around everything I'd never dared to want.
"You are not just wanted, Jordan. You are necessary. You are everything."
Something broke open inside me—a dam I'd built brick by careful brick over years of disappointment and pragmatism.
The sound that escaped was half-sob, half-laugh, entirely uncontrolled.
I launched myself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, holding on like he was the only solid thing in a spinning world.
He caught me effortlessly, lifting me against his chest as if I weighed nothing, as if he'd been waiting his whole life for the privilege of holding me exactly like this.
"I was so scared," I confessed against the warm column of his throat, the words muffled but honest. "So scared this wasn't real. That I was just... making it all up in my head. That I'd wake up and—"
"It is real." His arms banded tighter around me, solid and sure. "This is the most real thing I have ever known."
His mouth found mine—not tentative, but inevitable. Like coming home. The first touch of his lips sent electricity racing down my spine, and I gasped against him, which only made him kiss me deeper. His hand cradled the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, and I melted into him.
Ruka kissed me like I was air and he'd been drowning. Like I was the answer to a question he'd been asking his entire life. I tasted the wildness on his tongue—pine and rain and something indefinably him—and I wanted more. I needed more.