Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Dakvaar
My Kteer was a living thing in my chest, clawing at my ribs, snarling at me to go back.
Go back and take what she offered.
I paced the length of my bedroom, my claws flexing, my cock hard enough to ache. The scent of her—warm, sweet, mine—lingered on my fingers where she’d touched me.
The memory of her breath against my skin, the way her lips had parted, the way her dark eyes had burned with something I’d never seen directed at me before—desire—made my vision blur.
Fuck.
I stopped in the middle of the room, my head tossed back, my fists clenched at my sides.
My cock throbbed, heavy and insistent, pressing against the fabric of my sweatpants.
I could still feel the ghost of her fingertips on my cheek, the way her body had leaned toward mine, the way her scent had wrapped around me like a promise.
I groaned, low and rough, and my hand dropped to my cock, palming it through the fabric. Just once. Just to ease the ache.
Just imagine it’s her.
My hips jerked forward at the thought, my breath coming faster.
I could picture it so clearly—Sofia on her knees in front of me, those plump lips parted, her dark eyes locked on mine as she took me into her mouth.
Or better—her beneath me, her thighs spread, her body arching as I sank into her, her nails digging into my shoulders as I—
No.
I forced my hand away, my claws digging into my palms. The sharp pain cut through the haze of lust, and I exhaled sharply, my shoulders sagging.
She hadn’t been offering herself because she wanted me.
She’d been offering herself because she felt she owed me.
The realization was a bucket of ice water over my head.
She was running from a male who had hurt her, who would hurt her again if he found her, and here I was, ready to take advantage of her vulnerability like some rutting beast.
Fuck.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, my Kteer howling in protest. Mate mine claim love taste fuck claim love Mate MINE!
But that wasn’t how this had to work. Not in her world.
I dropped my hands, my gaze landing on the mirror over my dresser. My reflection stared back at me—broad shoulders, dark hair, the green glow of my eyes bright with frustration. My tusks gleamed in the low light, a reminder of what I was.
An orc.
A male built for battle, for protection, for possession.
But Sofia wasn’t some prize to be won. She wasn’t a female to be claimed without her consent.
She was mine—my Kteer roared it, my heart knew it—but she didn’t know it yet.
And if I pushed her, if I took what she offered out of obligation rather than desire, I would lose her before I ever truly had her.
I exhaled sharply, my claws digging into my palms again.
Control.
Right. That’s what I was known for, after all.
I forced myself to turn away from the mirror, stripping out of my clothes with rough movements. The cold air of the room bit at my skin, but I welcomed it. Anything to cool the fire in my veins.
I pulled on a pair of loose sleep pants, then sat on the edge of the bed, my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands.
She’s hurt. She’s scared. She’s running.
And I was the male who had sworn to protect her.
I lay back, staring up at the ceiling, my Kteer still a restless, snarling thing in my chest. The house was quiet, and I could hear Sofia’s breathing from down the hall, slow and even. She was asleep.
Good.
She needed rest. She needed time to heal—both her body and her mind.
I closed my eyes, willing my body to relax, my mind to quiet.
But sleep didn’t come.
Instead, I saw her face—bruised and beautiful, her dark eyes wide with something that had looked suspiciously like hope when she’d touched me. I heard her voice, soft and rough, telling me all the things she’d noticed about me, all the ways she knew me.
There is a knowing.
The thought was a knife in my chest, what my father had told us all those years ago when it came to Mating. He’d explained how the gods had chosen a Mate for all of us, and if we were lucky, we’d find her, know her.
She knew me.
And I knew her.
I knew the way her lips quirked when she was trying not to smile. The way her fingers twitched when she was nervous. The way she hummed under her breath when she was stressed, like she was trying to soothe herself.
I knew the way she looked at Rosa—like the sun rose and set in that little girl’s eyes.
I knew the way she carried her pain—quietly, stubbornly, like she was afraid to let anyone see how much it hurt.
And I knew the way she’d looked at me tonight.
Like she wanted to know more.
My cock twitched again, and I groaned, rolling onto my side, my fists clenched against the mattress.
Patience.
I’d waited this long, and I could wait longer.
But gods, it was hard.
The next few days passed in a blur of careful routine.
Rosa became more at ease in the house—our home, though I couldn’t let myself think of it that way without an ache in my chest—her laughter filling the halls, her small body a warm, chattering presence wherever she went.
She asked me to read to her every evening when I returned from the rink, curling against my side on the couch, her dark head tucked under my arm as I read her stories of dragons and heroes and far-off lands.
She mispronounced every Orcish word I taught her, her tongue tripping over the guttural sounds, but the way her eyes lit up when she got one right made my chest ache.
Kara. Sun.
Veth. Home.
Dkaar. Beloved.
She butchered them all, and I loved her for it.
Gods below, how I loved this tiny little human already!
Sofia, meanwhile, was healing.
The bruises on her face faded from sickly purple to dull yellow, the swelling around her eye receding. She moved easier, her steps lighter, her smile coming more freely. She no longer winced when she laughed too hard, and I didn’t see any hitch in her movements when she used her left wrist.
And she started asking questions.
Small ones, at first.
“Do orcs…have spouses like humans do?”
“Yes,” I said carefully, watching her from the armchair as she sat on the couch, her fingers idly flipping through one of my favorite paperbacks. “Though our bonds are…different.”
“Different how?”
I hesitated. “Deeper. More…inevitable.”
She frowned. “Like arranged marriages?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Like…” How to explain? “Mate Bonds are like the mountains. Like the rivers wearing them down. It’s not a choice—it’s deeper than that.”
Her dark eyes studied me, curious. “That sounds…intense.”
I exhaled, my claws flexing against the armrest. “It is.” And completely miraculous.
She didn’t ask more that night, but the next evening, as we sat in the den—me in the armchair, her on the couch, the fire crackling between us—she asked, “Lila said she can feel Kardok. Like, his emotions. Is that…normal?”
I kept my voice steady. “For Mates, yes.”
“Mates.”
“Yes.”
She bit her lip, her fingers tapping against her knee. “And that’s…permanent?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled, her gaze dropping to her lap. “That means you can’t get divorced? What if the Bond hurts?”
Oh gods. I squeezed my eyes shut, hearing the pain she wasn’t speaking. “Orcs…” I had to stop, clear my throat. “Orcs don’t think like that. We’re not built like that. Even if a Mated pair isn’t compatible, there’s only respect there, not cruelty. An orc would never hurt his Mate, not the way…”
When I trailed off, she whispered, staring down at the book, “The way Anthony did.”
Anthony. The bastard’s name was Anthony. Her ex-husband, Rosa’s father, the one who had made her bleed, and had likely done it before.
I swallowed, trying desperately to keep the rage from my voice. “Orcs aren’t like human men, Sofia. You’re safe with me.”
Your Mate.
I ached to tell her the truth, ached to pull her into my arms and whisper that she was mine, that I could feel the pull of her even now, like a current in my blood, like the tide dragging me toward the shore.
But I didn’t, because she was still scared.
Friday morning, I woke to the scent of coffee.
I blinked, disoriented, then pushed myself up, my muscles stiff from another night of restless sleep. The house was quiet, the only sound was the wind from the mountains and the faint clink of dishes from the kitchen.
I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a Henley, then followed the scent.
Sofia stood at the counter, her back to me, her dark hair pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder.
She was wearing the flannel pants I’d bought her—the ones with the little moons—and one of my robes, the fabric swallowing her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
The coffee maker gurgled beside her, the rich aroma filling the kitchen.
She turned as I entered, a mug in her hand, the way she used to serve me at the diner—had that only been last week? She always knew my order, knew how I liked my coffee.
“Good morning,” she said softly.
Her voice was rough with sleep, warm with something that made my pulse stutter.
“Good morning,” I managed.
She held out the mug. “I made coffee.”
I took it, my fingers brushing hers. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I had to force myself not to tighten my grip, not to pull her closer.
“Thank you.”
She smiled, just slightly, then turned back to the counter. “And I, uh…warmed up one of the donuts you got yesterday.”
My chest tightened.
Friday is cheat day.
She remembered.
She knew me.
The realization was humbling and made my Kteer—caged and confused—purr with contentment.
I watched as she pulled a plate from the cabinet, her movements careful, her wrist still stiff. She set a donut on it—glazed, with sprinkles—and slid it toward me.
“Friday is cheat day,” she said, her lips quirking. Now that the bruising was fading, her smiles looked more natural.
She knew the way I ordered on Fridays. The way I let myself indulge, just a little. The way I—
Unable to help myself, I grinned.
And Sofia sucked in a breath, eyes widening in surprise as she took a step back.
“What?” I reached for her, reacting to her shock, but she burst into little chuckles.
“You smiled! I knew you could smile!”
As she shook her head, still chuckling, I swallowed down my own chuckles as I reached for the donut. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
Later, after I was dressed and holding my duffel, she followed me to the door. Her hands cradled a mug of coffee—she took hers with a splash of cream—and she smelled of uncertainty.
I turned and performed what was becoming our little ritual. “You’ll be here when I get back?”
She nodded, her gaze dropping to her coffee, her teeth worrying her lower lip. Without thinking, I reached for her, one hand landing on her hip as if a magnet had drawn it there.
“What is it, dkaar?”
Her dark eyes peeked up at me. “You know, Rosa told me that means beloved.”
Ah.
My eyes fluttered shut, and I focused on the feel of her beneath my fingers. “Yes,” I confessed, wondering if this was the moment to tell her the full truth. Tell her she was my Mate.
But…
I felt her take a deep breath. “Dakvaar, we can’t stay here, but I want you to know that we won’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“I don’t want you to leave at all!” The words—full of pain—burst from me as I opened my eyes to stare half-pleadingly down at her.
Her smile was sad. “I don’t want to leave either, but Anthony will find us. He always does. And when he does, I can’t allow you to be hurt.”
My arms ached to pull her closer, to comfort her. Instead, I contented myself with hefting my bag higher on my shoulder, and tightening my hold on her hip, as my Kteer snarled, demanding answers.
But I had to handle this carefully. “Tell me?”
Sofia shook her head. “This isn’t your fight.”
My throat was thick with rage and sorrow when I confessed, “It became my fight the moment I held you in that street, terrified for your life, Sofia.”
Her breath hitched, and I leaned down slightly, just enough to know that she was looking at me, and only at me.
“Love, you’re mine to protect.”
The words hung between us, raw and true.
She stared at me, her dark eyes wide, her lips parted, her knuckles white around the mug.
Then, slowly, she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to my cheek.
The contact was soft, gentle, sweet…
And it broke me.
I stood frozen, my breath trapped in my lungs, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Then she pulled back, her breath lingering against my jaw for just a second before she dropped back on her heels.
She turned and walked away.
I stood there, my skin burning where she’d touched me, my Kteer howling in my chest.
Mine.