Orc’s First Valentine

Humans call it a Valentine. We call it a Rite. But this much is true…

it’s about to get magical. She’s scared, half-wild, bleeding into the snow. The second she crashes into our firelight, the clan claims fate. I claim her. She fights the bond. Tries to walk.

Until they take her. Now I’m not reciting vows. I’m ripping through their gates. She doesn’t need a mate. She needs a weapon.

So I became one. She calls me her first Valentine. I call her my last everything.

Read on for blood-soaked rescue, sacred rites, forced proximity, and a warlord orc who was never supposed to love—until she knelt at the edge of his blade. HEA Guaranteed!