8. Grok
Days Later
The Great Hall thrums with a strange mix of revelry and mourning, the air thick with the copper tang of blood, the musk of sweat, and the bittersweet scent of firewine. My clan fills the cavernous space, their faces a patchwork of fierce grins and solemn frowns, fresh scars and tear-stained cheeks.
We have won a great victory today, driving back the human incursion at our borders with steel and fury and the unbreakable will of the mountain itself. But that victory came at a cost, as all such triumphs do. Too many empty seats at the feast tables, too many pyres yet to be lit, too many goodbyes still unsaid.
I sit at the head of the high table, my own wounds throbbing beneath my bloodstained furs, the weight of my fallen warriors heavy on my shoulders. I should be mourning with my people, offering comfort and raising toasts to the glorious dead.
But all I can think about, all I can see, all I can feel...is her.
Lily. My fierce little human, my sly and silver-tongued Red Blade. The woman who I thought of as I fought my enemies, thinking of her, wishing she was by my side on the battlefield. I could see her by my side one day, as the visions showed me, roaring her defiance at our enemies even as they sought to cut her down.
She sits beside me now, her slight form nearly swallowed by the massive throne, her eyes darting warily around the hall as if expecting an attack at any moment. And perhaps she”s right to be on guard.
For I can feel the weight of hostile stares, hear the low and angry mutters rippling through the crowd like a poisonous tide. They don”t understand, my people. They look at Lily and see only a human, a weakling, an enemy. They don”t see what I see—a warrior, a survivor, a spirit as indomitable and unyielding as the mountain itself.
My mate. My match. My destiny.
I reach for my tankard, my movements slow and deliberate, each flex of muscle and stretch of sinew an effort through the bone-deep ache of exhaustion. But even that small action sends a fresh jolt of pain lancing through my side, my wounds screaming protest at being so callously ignored.
Lily notices my grimace, her eyes widening in concern. ”You”re hurt,” she murmurs, her voice low and urgent beneath the din of the hall. ”Grok, you need to rest, to heal. Let me help you back to your chambers...”
She half-rises as if to assist me, her small hand falling to my forearm in a gesture of support. But before she can complete the motion, a huge fist slams down on the table before us, rattling platters and toppling tankards with the force of its impact.
”You forget your place, human,” snarls Marak, one of my most belligerent and bull-headed captains. His eyes are flinty with rage and disgust as they rake over Lily”s slight form, his lip curling in a sneer of pure contempt.
”You don”t touch the warlord, you mewling sow. You don”t help him, you don”t command him, and you sure as fuck don”t belong at this table or in that throne. You”re nothing but a prisoner, a toy, a piece of fuckmeat for the chief to amuse himself with until he tires of your stringy thighs and tosses you to the wolves.”
A roar of agreement goes up from the assembled warriors at his words, fists and tankards pounding on tables in a raucous, threatening beat. I can feel the hostility swelling like a cresting wave, the bloodlust and battle fever seeking a new outlet now that our true enemies have been driven back.
And what better target than the lone human in their midst, the outsider, the upstart female who dares to claim a place at their warlord”s side?
Lily has gone pale and still beside me, her eyes huge in her bloodless face. But to her credit, she does not cower or look to me for protection. She lifts her chin and stares Marak down, defiance sparking in those moss-green depths.
”I am not nothing,” she says quietly, each word falling like a stone into the churning sea of anger seething around us. ”I am Lily Thornwood, the Red Blade. I have fought and bled for my people. I have been captured by your warlord, but I remain unbroken. You can not cow me, captain. You can not break me. I. Am. Not. Yours.”
Something deep in my chest snarls in savage approval of her words, her courage, the steely strength in that slender frame. This. This is why I claimed her, why I chose her, why I will fight to the death to keep her.
She is a true daughter of the mountain, my Lily, as much as any warrior in this hall. And I will make sure they all see it, all acknowledge it...
Before this night is through.
Ignoring the screaming agony of my wounds, the creaking protest of my battle-weary muscles, I surge to my feet, towering over the assembly like a massive shadowed pillar. Silence ripples outward from my sudden movement, every eye snapping to me, wide and wary and waiting.
”You forget yourself, Marak,” I rumble, my voice low and lethally soft. ”You forget to whom you speak, and in what manner. Tell me...do you wish to challenge me for leadership of this clan? Do you think to wrest the title of warlord from my bloody hands and spit on the traditions of our people?”
Marak goes still, his eyes widening as the full implication of my words sinks in. To insult the warlord”s chosen female, to question his judgment in such a way...it is tantamount to a declaration of war, a direct assault on my strength and right to rule.
And there is only one way such challenges can be met.
”N-no, my lord,” he stammers, taking an involuntary step back. ”I would never presume to?—”
”And yet you have,” I cut him off, my eyes hard as chips of flint. ”You have insulted she who I have claimed as my own, questioned my authority before the entire clan. There must be an accounting, Marak. A reckoning. In blood and pain and the spilled entrails of defiance.”
I stalk towards him, each step slow and deliberate, the promise of violence crackling from my frame like heat lightning. The crowd parts before me, scrambling back with the ingrained deference of those who know their place in the pecking order.
But I have eyes only for Marak, for the growing fear and horrified realization contorting his battle-scarred features. He knows what”s coming, knows the price of his transgression. And from the sour stink of his terror, the quaking of his limbs...
He knows he will not survive it.
”P-please, my lord,” he babbles, dropping to his knees in supplication, his hands raised in desperate entreaty. ”Mercy, I beg you. I spoke in anger, in bloodlust, I didn”t mean?—”
”You meant every word,” I snarl, my hand falling to the hilt of my greatsword, the black blade rasping from its sheath with the finality of a tolling bell. ”You have questioned my judgment, my strength, my very right to lead. And you. Will. Answer for it.”
I raise the sword high, the firelight dancing along its razor edge, the promise of a swift and brutal death. Marak gibbers and cowers, his bowels loosening with fear, his face a mask of sniveling terror.
But before I can bring the blade down, before I can separate his treacherous head from his spineless body...a small hand falls on my forearm, gentle but insistent.
”Wait,” Lily says softly, and the single word is like a key turning in a lock, a cool draft of sanity amidst the roaring flames of my fury.
I pause, the sword halting in its downward arc, and turn to look at her. She meets my gaze steadily, her eyes calm and clear, a deep well of wisdom belied by her youthful features.
”Don”t kill him,” she murmurs, pitching her voice for my ears alone. ”He”s a fool, an arrogant braggart, but he”s still your warrior, your clan brother. His death will not bind this clan closer to you...only drive the wedge of resentment and fear deeper.”
I stare at her, my breath coming hard and fast, my pulse pounding with the barely leashed need for violence. She”s right. I know she”s right. A warlord must be strong, must command respect and obedience...but he must also know mercy, know when to stay his hand and spare a life for the greater good of the clan.
Even when every fiber of his being screams for blood.
Slowly, with a supreme effort of will, I lower my sword, the blade dipping towards the ground, the promise of death receding like a dark tide. Marak sags in relief, a broken sob escaping his lips as he grovels at my feet.
”You are fortunate, Marak,” I say coldly, looking down at his wretched, sniveling form with utter contempt. ”Fortunate that my Red Blade is wiser and more merciful than I. For her sake, and the sake of clan unity...I will spare your miserable life.”
A discontented rumble goes through the crowd at my words, the warriors shifting and muttering, their eyes darting between me and Lily with a mix of confusion and simmering anger. I can feel their doubt, their disdain, the unspoken accusation that I have grown soft, weak, unfit to lead.
And that...that, I can not allow. Not if I wish to keep my throne, my clan, my very life.
I must make them see, make them understand the truth of what Lily is to me, what she means to the future of the Bloodclaw. I must claim her, openly and unequivocally, in a way that leaves no room for doubt or dissent.
I must make her...my queen.
I sheathe my sword with a decisive snap, the sound echoing through the suddenly silent hall like a thunderclap. Then, without a word, I turn on my heel and stride back to the high table, back to the massive throne of blackened bone and beast-hide.
But I do not take my seat. Instead, I prowl around to the front of the throne, my movements slow and deliberate, my eyes sweeping the assembled warriors with an intensity that makes them flinch and look away.
”You think me weak,” I say softly, my voice carrying to every corner of the hall despite its low volume. ”You think me compromised, unfit to lead, because I have taken a human female as my consort. You think she has made me soft, pliant, a slave to her whims and wiles.”
I reach out and grab Lily”s wrist, yanking her roughly to my side. She yelps in surprise, stumbling against me, but I wrap a steely arm around her waist, holding her firm.
”But you are mistaken,” I growl, my voice hardening to a ruthless edge. ”This female is not my weakness. She is my strength, my sharpest blade, the steel that hones my fury to a killing point.”
I spin Lily to face me, one hand fisting in her hair, the other splayed possessively over the small of her back. ”Isn”t that right, little human?” I rumble, loud enough for all to hear. ”You are mine to command, mine to master. You submit to me in all things...don”t you?”
I feel her stiffen in my arms, her eyes flashing with defiance. But then I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. ”Play along, fierce one,” I breathe, for her alone. ”Let them see your surrender, your devotion. Trust me...”
There”s a beat, a breathless pause where I fear she will rebel, will balk at this bold claiming. But then she melts against me, her body softening, yielding, one hand coming up to flutter at my chest.
”Yes, my lord,” she says demurely, her lashes lowering, though I don”t miss the tiny quirk of her lips. ”I am yours to command...in all things.”
A raucous cheer goes up from the assembled warriors at her words, fists and tankards pounding the tables in approval. I feel a savage grin stretch my lips, both at their reaction and the slow simmer of Lily”s arousal, the scent of her need rising to tease my nostrils.
”That”s my good girl,” I praise loudly, my hand sliding from her hair to grip her throat, lightly but with clear threat. ”My obedient little mate. And now...I think it”s time you showed the clan just how deep that obedience runs.”
Without warning, I sit upon my throne, the blackened bone creaking beneath my weight. Lily blinks at me, a question in her eyes, but I merely crook a finger at her, a silent command.
The throne room falls silent, the crackle of the great hearth and the heavy breathing of the watching warriors the only sounds. The air is thick with tension, with anticipation, every eye fixed on the delicate human female standing before the warlord”s throne.
Lily”s gaze darts around the room, taking in the sea of fierce, hungry faces, the palpable weight of their scrutiny. I can smell her nervousness, her trepidation...but beneath it, rising like smoke from a hidden flame, is the heady musk of her arousal.
She wants this, wants me, even as she fears the implications, the sheer audacity of what I”m asking of her. I can see it in the flush of her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her breast, the way her tongue darts out to wet her suddenly dry lips.
”Come to me,” I rumble, pitching my voice low, for her ears alone. ”Claim your place at my side, in full view of the clan. Show them you are no mere prisoner, no passing fancy...but a queen in the making.”
Her eyes meet mine, wide and luminous in the flickering torchlight. I hold her gaze, letting her see the depth of my hunger, my need, the raw and ruthless certainty of my claim on her.
”I...I don”t know if I can,” she whispers, her voice trembling. ”Grok, they”re all watching, judging. And my people... how can I betray them?”
My heart clenches at the vulnerable quaver in her tone, the genuine fear and self-doubt shadowing her expression. Even now, even after all we”ve shared, all she”s seen...a part of her still sees ogres as beasts, her enemies at war. She plays her part as the Red Blade even now, lifting her chin in defiance, her hand closing on an invisible sword.
But I know better. I see the silk beneath the steel, the fragility behind the strong facade. She is meant for me, meant to be my queen...and it”s time she understood that, once and for all.
”You could never dishonor your people,” I say fiercely, holding her gaze with the force of my conviction. ”What is between us is bigger than human or ogre, bigger than warlord or warrior. You are my heart, my backbone, the very air in my lungs. Without you, I am just another brute with a blade, another tyrant scrambling for scraps of power and glory. But with you at my side...I am a king, Lily. Your king.”
I extend my hand to her once more, a lifeline, a promise. ”And a king needs his queen. Now, come...and let there be no more doubt, no more fear. Only certainty, only strength...only us.”
For a long, breathless moment, she remains motionless, frozen between the pull of her own desire and the push of her lingering hesitation. The hall seems to hold its collective breath, every heart pounding in sync with my own as we await her decision, her choice.
And then, like a dam bursting, like a wildfire igniting...she moves.
Her chin dips, a flicker of challenge in her gaze, and she steps forward, gathering her skirts in her hands. Slowly, deliberately, she hikes the fabric up to her thighs, baring the creamy perfection of her legs to the hungry eyes of the horde.
A low, guttural sound ripples through the crowd, part gasp, part groan, all raw, visceral want. I can practically feel the heat of their stares, the prickling weight of their covetous hunger, and it makes my hackles rise, my lips peel back from my fangs in a silent snarl of warning.
Mine, that snarl says, vicious and implacable. Look all you like, you curs, but touch her and die screaming.
Lily must sense it too, the growing tension, the barely leashed violence simmering in the air. But she doesn”t falter, doesn”t so much as miss a step as she continues her slow, sinuous advance, the fluid roll of her hips, the graceful sway of her body turning the simple act of walking into a dance of sensual provocation.
A snarl builds in my throat at the blatant display, my protective instincts warring with the dark thrill of showing her off, flaunting my possession. But it”s fleeting, drowned out by the sudden roaring of my blood as she places one dainty foot on the throne between my splayed thighs, then the other.
The throne creaks ominously as she settles her weight, ancient bones and battle-worn leather protesting the addition of her slight form. But it holds, this seat of savage power and bloodstained glory, cradling her like the rare, precious treasure she is.
Her scent engulfs me, roses and woman and the earthy musk of arousal, and I breathe it in like a drowning man sucking down air, filling my lungs, my head, my very soul with her essence.
And then she”s straddling me, the heat of her core a brand even through the barrier of my breeches, her hands braced on my shoulders as she slowly lowers herself onto my lap. Her skirts pool around us, shielding the most intimate details from view, but there”s no mistaking the roll of her hips, the breathy little moan that escapes her parted lips.
”Grok,” she whispers, and the sound of my name on her tongue, husky and needful, nearly undoes me. ”Are you...are you sure you want to do this? To claim me so openly, so irrevocably...it will change everything. There will be no going back.”
I cup her face in my hands, my claws pricking her delicate skin, framing her in a cage of lethal strength and ruthless control. She meets my gaze steadily, trustingly, the green of her eyes dark and depthless with mingled desire and devotion.
”I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” I breathe, the words a vow, an oath sworn in blood and bone and the unbreakable bonds of the mating dance. ”You are my fate, Lily Thornwood. My destiny, my future...my forever. And I will claim you, again and again, in every way that matters...until there is no corner of this world or any other that does not know the truth of what we are to each other.”
Her breath catches, her eyes widening. ”Grok,” she chokes out, my name a broken prayer, a benediction. “I don’t know what happens next, but I know you are my heart...my king.”
”My queen,” I answer fiercely, and then I”m kissing her, devouring her, drinking down her soft cries and sweeter surrender like the finest of wines. She opens for me instantly, her lips parting, her tongue darting out to dance and duel with my own in a clash of heat and hunger, passion and possession.
I plunder the honeyed recesses of her mouth even as my hands map the lush curves and delicate hollows of her body, learning her anew, claiming every inch of her as my own. She arches into my touch, a wanton little mewl vibrating against my lips as I palm the ripe swells of her breasts, rolling and tugging at the pebbled peaks until they strain against the fabric of her bodice.
”That”s it,” I rumble against her throat, my hands falling to her waist, guiding the sinuous roll of her hips as she grinds down on the throbbing bulk of my arousal. ”Take what you need, sweet. Use me for your pleasure, right here before the entire clan. Show them how well I satisfy you, how perfectly I fill you...”
She shudders in my arms, her head lolling back, exposing the creamy column of her throat. I latch onto it hungrily, bathing her with my tongue, grazing her with my fangs in a primal claiming, a mark of possession.
”Let them see,” I growl, my voice a rough, grating rasp, every word seared with heat and command. ”Let them all bear witness, as you ride me, milk me...take me deeper than any other, until you”re wrung dry and senseless with pleasure. Until my scent is in your very skin, my seed branding you to your core...”
Around us, the hall has fallen deathly silent, every eye riveted on the spectacle of the warlord and his mate, locked in a dance as old as time itself. I can smell their shock, their disbelief...but also their rising lust, the pheromone-thick musk of arousal.
It seeps into the air like smoke, curling around us, stroking over our skin like hungry, questing fingers. It mingles with Lily”s scent, creating a perfume of raw, carnal need that sets my blood to boiling, my cock to throbbing with the fierce demand for completion.
Take,that scent commands, a sirens song of basest hunger, most urgent instinct. Claim. Conquer. Rut and ravage and fill her until she can hold no more...
With a snarl that borders on a roar, I surge up beneath her, my hands wrenching her tight to my body as I grind myself against the scalding heat of her center. The thick ridge of my cock notches against her clothed slit, parting her folds, pressing into the slick promise of her body, and she keens high and wild, her nails raking my shoulders, her strong thighs clamping down on my pistoning hips.
”Please,” she gasps out, a fractured, desperate prayer. ”Please, Grok...I can”t...I need...I need you in me, around me. I need to feel you, all of you...claiming me, filling me...making me forever yours...”
Her broken words shred the last of my restraint, the last tattered veil of control. With a growl that rattles the very stones of the hearth, I reach between our fevered, writhing bodies, my claws making short, savage work of her underclothes.
The fabric gives with a scream of rendering silk and lace, baring her to my touch, my gaze...my possession. I barely have the presence of mind to fumble open my own laces, to free the straining, engorged length of my cock to the steamy air, the avid eyes of the crowd.
And then I”m gripping her, positioning her, the swollen head of my shaft nestling into the hot, wet clasp of her sex. I can feel her quivering, pulsing against me, every muscle and sinew wound tight in sweet, excruciating anticipation.
”Do it,” she breathes into my ear, her voice a husky purr, a dark, honeyed command. ”Take me. Claim me, my warlord...once and for all.”
”Lily,” I groan, her name both a plea and a damnation...and then I”m pulling her down, hilting myself into her scorching, silken depths in a single, relentless thrust.
She throws back her head with a wavering cry as I fill her, impale her, every thick, pulsing inch of me driving deep into the clutch of her core. Her body bucks and jerks, instinct warring with the sudden, shocking invasion...but then her hips are rolling, undulating, taking me even deeper, welcoming me home.
”Yes,” I hiss through gritted teeth, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain. ”Fuck, Lily...you feel...you are...gods, everything...”
The words dissolve into a strangled groan as she begins to move, setting a rhythm atop me that is both maddening and exquisite. Each rise and fall of her hips sheathes me in the liquid silk of her sex, every down stroke grinding her plush, swollen bud into the base of my shaft, wringing whimpers and gasps from her kiss-reddened lips.
Lost in her—in us—I grip her waist with bruising force, guiding her, commanding her...showing my clan with every fierce, driving thrust, every lewd, wet slap of flesh, just who she belongs to. Just what she is to me.
”My mate,” I rasp out, the words garbled and guttural, torn from some deep, primal place inside me. ”My duchess of depravity, my goddess of sin...the queen of every last beat of my black, battle-broken heart...”
Lily mewls in answer, her nails scouring my back, my shoulders, my arms...every part of me she can reach as she rides me with wild, wanton abandon. Her pace quickens, sharpens, the roll of her hips growing frantic and erratic as she chases her pleasure, grinds herself down on the throbbing, iron-hard length of my cock like she means to fuse us, molt us together into one writhing, ecstatic creature.
Around us, the hall has descended into a maelstrom of howls and snarls, grunts and groans...a rising tide of savage, voyeuristic hunger, barely leashed. I can feel their eyes on us, avid and hot and heavy, drinking down the depraved spectacle of their warlord rutting his mate—his human mat—atop the very seat of his power.
It should shame me, should enrage me to have our most intimate, vulnerable moments dissected, despoiled by the greedy gazes of the horde. But in this moment, drunk on pleasure and passion and the fierce thrill of possession, I feel only a dark, visceral satisfaction.
Let them see, I think savagely, my hands clutching Lily”s pumping hips, my fangs bared in a feral grin. Let them bear witness, let them learn, once and for all, who holds the leash of their warlord”s desire, his devotion. Let them watch me spill myself in the hot, grasping depths of my female, and know...there will never be another. Never any but her, for me.
Mine, my soul snarls as I surge up to meet Lily”s downward strokes, as I rut into her like a beast, like the monster I am in my marrow. My mate, my queen...my everything.
”Grok,” she gasps out, her voice hitching on a sob as her movements grow jerky, spasmodic. ”I”m...gods, I”m so close. Please, I need...I need you to...”
”I know,” I pant, my claws flexing on her hips, my own release barreling down on me like a storm surge, a tidal wave of pleasure and pressure. ”I”ve got you, little human. I”m here. I”m...fuck, Lily... now.”
With a broken cry, she shatters around me, her cunt bearing down on my cock like a fist as she comes. Her climax rips through her with the force of a hurricane, bowing her spine and tensing every straining muscle as she pulses and ripples, gushes and throbs.
The feel of it—the tight, rhythmic squeeze of her sex, milking me, branding me–detonates my own release like a grenade in my core. With a roar that shakes the very rafters, I bury myself balls-deep in her quivering channel and let go, erupting in great, shuddering spurts that paint her womb, fill her to overflowing with my heat, my seed...my claim.
It goes on and on, the two of us locked together in an endless feedback loop of ecstasy and completion, giving and receiving, possessing and being possessed. Distantly, dimly, I”m aware of the baying of the crowd, the stamp and cheer and howl of their bloodlust, their base approbation...but it”s a shadow, an afterthought.
All that matters, all that exists...is her. My Lily. My heart, my home...my mate.
As the last aftershocks fade, as the world slowly reshapes itself around us, she collapses against my sweat-slick chest, trembling and gasping, utterly wrung out. I gather her close with hands that shake, cradling her, cherishing her...marveling at the miracle of her, the impossibility of this moment.
“You are mine,” I rasp into the damp tangle of her hair, my voice raw and ragged, stripped down to its barest essence. “You are my mate, Lily Thornwood, and I cherish you with everything I am, everything I will ever be. You are my queen, my conqueror...the keeper of my soul.”
She lifts her head from my shoulder, her eyes flickering with an uncertain mix of tenderness and trepidation. ”And you are my king,” she whispers back, her voice trembling slightly. ”My shield, my shelter...but can I truly be your home, Grok? Can a human ever really belong in the world of ogres, of monsters?”
I swallow hard against the sudden ache in my throat, the burn of fear in my gut. This woman, this brave, beautiful, impossible woman...she”s everything. My world, my future, the very beat and breath of me.
But can I ask her to give up her own world, her own people, to stand at the side of a beast? Can I demand that sacrifice, knowing the toll it might take on her gentle, valiant heart?
Slowly, gingerly, I shift her in my arms, easing my softening cock from the sweet clasp of her sex. We both wince at the loss, the abrupt severance of our intimate connection, and I ache to soothe her, to promise her forever...
But the words stick in my throat, bitter with the taste of uncertainty, of looming loss.
”Shh, little human,” I murmur instead, pressing a kiss to her temple. ”You”re safe, I swear it. I”ll protect you, cherish you, for as long as you”ll have me.”
For as long as I can, my traitorous mind whispers. For as long as she can bear to look on this monstrous face, these blood-stained claws...before the day she inevitably flees, seeking the comfort and familiarity of her own kind.
She sighs, nestling deeper into my embrace, but I can feel the tension thrumming through her, the unspoken doubts and fears that plague us both. Around us, the hall is a cacophony of hoots and howls, lewd jests and bawdy cheers...but they sound distant, muffled, as if filtering through a haze of dread.
”We should go,” I say after a long moment, regret and resignation heavy in my tone. ”Get you cleaned up, tended to. I was...less than gentle, in my need to claim you.”
She huffs a strained laugh against my throat. ”You weren”t the only one caught up in the passion of the moment,” she murmurs. ”I seem to recall drawing my own blood, my king, with how fiercely I clung to you.”
I growl softly, tightening my arms around her. ”Brazen wench,” I rumble, trying for playful and falling short. ”What am I going to do with you, hmm?”
”Love me,” she whispers, and there”s a desperate edge to it, a breathless plea. ”Fight for me, for us...but Grok, if you ever feel I”m not worth the battle, the risk...I”ll understand. I”ll...I”ll let you go, no matter how it breaks me.”
My heart clenches at her words, at the glimmer of noble self-sacrifice in her eyes. Oh, my fierce, fragile flower...always so ready to martyr herself, to bear the burdens of the world on her slim shoulders.
But maybe she”s right. Maybe loving me, choosing me, is a weight too heavy for any human to carry. Maybe, in the end...I”ll have to be the one to let her go. To free her from the gilded cage of my devotion before it becomes a shackle, a noose.
Not yet, I vow silently, fiercely. Not until I”ve exhausted every effort, moved every mountain, to keep her at my side. Not until I”ve proven, beyond the slightest doubt, that ogre and human, monster and maiden...we belong.
I cup her face in my great, battle-scarred hands, my claws carefully sheathed. ”Never doubt that I care for you, Lily,” I rasp, my eyes burning into hers. ”Never doubt that you are worth it, worth any price or peril. You are my mate, my destiny...and I will fight for you, for us, until my last breath.”
”And if it”s not enough?” she whispers, her pulse fluttering, a tear gathering beneath her eyes. ”If I”m not enough, in the end? What then, Grok?”
I brush away her tears with the pad of my thumb, my own eyes stinging and blurred. ”Then...then I will honor your wishes,” I manage, each word ripped from my very marrow. ”I will set you free, no matter how it guts me. Because your happiness, your peace...they will always come first. Before my own desires, my own bleeding soul if need be.”
She makes a small, broken sound, her hands coming up to cradle my jaw. ”I don”t want to be free of you,” she breathes, and it sounds like a vow, a prayer. ”I want to be yours, Grok, in every way. I”m just...I”m terrified I won”t be enough. That I”ll fail you, disappoint you...and lose you.”
”Never,” I growl, low and fierce. ”Never, Lily. You could never disappoint me, never be less than everything I want, everything I need. You”re it for me, don”t you see? There will never be another, never a second I don”t crave you, cherish you, with every beat of my black, battle-broken heart.”
I seal my words with a kiss, hard and hot and hungry, pouring every ounce of my lust, my certainty, into the slant of my mouth on hers. She moans into the kiss, her arms twining around my neck, her lush curves pressing urgently to my harder planes.
For a moment, the world falls away, narrowing down to the sweet, scorching perfection of her mouth, her skin, her presence in my arms. For a moment, the future is blindingly bright, shimmering with possibility, with promise.
But all too soon, the uncertainties come creeping back in, dousing the blazing hope in my breast with cold claws of doubt. All too soon, I remember the reality beyond this hall, this haven...the reality that would see us torn asunder, our bonds reduced to ashes and regret.
Slowly, reluctantly, I break the kiss, resting my forehead against hers as we both struggle for air, for equilibrium. ”We should go,” I rasp again, the words heavy and hoarse. ”Face the challenges to come, whatever they may be. Together, for as long as the fates allow.”
She nods, a flicker of sorrow in her eyes, of grim understanding. ”Together,” she echoes softly. ”Come what may, Grok...I”m with you, for you. Until the bitter end, if need be.”
And beyond, I vow silently. In this life and whatever waits on the other side...I will find you, fight for you. Wait for you.
Always.
With that thought held tight to my heart like a talisman, I rise from the throne with Lily cradled against my chest. I hold her close, breathe in the scent of her, the essence of her...and then I turn to face the crowd, the clan, my expression hardening into a mask of resolute defiance.
Let them jeer, let them doubt. Let them question the devotion of a warlord to his human mate, the staying power of a connection so strange and scorned.
I will prove them all wrong, with every beat of my heart, every breath in my lungs. I will build a future with this woman at my side, because of this woman at my side...or I will perish in the attempt.
There is no other path for me now. No other purpose.
She is my queen, my reason...my home. And come what may, whatever battles lie ahead...
I will never stop fighting to keep her, to honor her. To be worthy of her.
This I swear, on the blood in my veins and the fire in my soul. This I vow, before the eyes of the clan and the spirits of the ancestors.
Lily Thornwood...is mine. And I will never, never let her go.
No matter how loud the doubts howl...or how deep the uncertainties cut.