Chapter 10
Knox
I've become addicted to that feeling. The constant awareness of her.
Finn appears in the garage doorway, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. "That Ironhead giving you trouble?"
"Nothing I can't handle." I set down the float assembly and reach for a clean rag, scrubbing at the grime under my nails. "What do you need?"
"Just checking in. You've been distracted lately." His mouth curves into a knowing smirk. "Can't imagine why."
Before I can tell him where he can shove his observations, the bond flares.
The sensation hits me like a fist to the chest—Sarah's emotions flooding through the connection so fast and intense that my vision whites out at the edges.
Shock first, sharp and sudden, the kind that steals my breath and stops thought.
Fear follows, threading beneath the shock like ice water in my veins.
And wonder. Raw, trembling wonder that doesn't match the fear at all, that contradicts it in ways I can't understand.
More fear layered on top, thick and choking, but underneath it all—hope. Hope so fragile and buried she's trying to hide it even from herself.
The wrench clatters from my numb fingers. I'm moving before my mind catches up to what my body already knows, grabbing my keys from the workbench, shoving past Finn without explanation.
"Knox? What the hell—"
I don't answer. Can't. The only word in my head is a single command that drowns out everything else.
Home. Now.
The ride from the garage to the clubhouse takes three minutes on a good day.
I make it in two, pushing the bike so hard the engine screams in protest and my tires leave black marks on every turn.
Brothers scatter from my path as I tear through the compound gates, gravel spraying in my wake, I'm off the bike before it fully stops rolling—kicking down the stand, taking the stairs two at a time, my boots thundering through the hallway like war drums.
Sarah stands beside our bed, her back to the door, her shoulders rigid with tension I can feel radiating off her in waves. She's holding something—a small box clutched in white-knuckled fingers, her head bowed as she stares down at the contents like they might bite her.
I know what's in that box before I'm close enough to read the label.
The bond tells me everything, painting her emotions across my awareness in vivid, overwhelming detail.
Wonder and fear tangled together so tightly I can't separate them.
Hope buried so deep she's terrified to acknowledge it exists.
Pregnancy tests. Several of them, still sealed in their packaging.
"Sarah."
She turns at the sound of my voice, and the sight of her face nearly brings me to my knees. Tears track down her cheeks, her eyes red-rimmed, her lower lip caught between her teeth hard enough to leave marks.
"I'm late." The words tumble out of her in a rush, broken and breathless. "Two weeks late. I'm never late, Knox—not ever. My whole life, I've kept track, and I'm never, ever late."
I cross to her in two strides and take her hands in mine, folding them—box and all—between my palms. Her fingers tremble against my skin, small and cold despite the warmth of the room, and I can feel her pulse racing through the bond.
"We'll figure this out. Together." I keep my voice low and steady, though my own heart pounds hard enough to crack ribs. "That's how this works. That's how we work."
"It's too soon." She shakes her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "You only claimed me two weeks ago. Everything's still so new, and you'll think—"
"I'll think what?" I release her hands long enough to cup her face, tilting it up until she has no choice but to meet my eyes. "That the woman I love might be carrying my child?"
Her breath catches. Through the bond, I feel her shock like a physical blow—the way her heart stutters and her thoughts scatter and everything goes still and silent inside her head. She stares up at me with those wet, luminous eyes, her lips parting around words that won't come.
"But it's so fast—"
"Sha'keth va'run." My native tongue feels strange on my lips after so many years, but the words come easily. "My heart, my home. It's what my people say to the ones we belong to."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you own me." I press my forehead to hers and I breathe her in and there's something new underneath. Something I almost missed because I wasn't looking for it, a change in her scent so subtle I might have dismissed it as imagination if I didn't know better.
"It means I've loved you since you stood up to those bigots in the diner with coffee in your hand and fire in your eyes, staring them down like they were nothing while they spat their hatred and didn't even flinch.
Maybe I loved you before that. Maybe from the moment you climbed onto the back of my bike and wrapped your arms around my waist and held onto me like I was the only solid thing in a world that wanted to break you. "
She makes a sound that's half laugh and half sob, her hands coming up to grip my wrists like she needs to anchor herself to something real. "Knox."
"Take the test." I pull back enough to look at her face, to watch the play of emotions across her features—fear and hope and something that might be joy if she'd let herself feel it.
"Whatever it says, whatever comes next, it doesn't change anything that matters.
You're mine. I'm yours. The rest is details we'll figure out together. "
The bathroom floor tiles dig into my knees, cold and hard through the denim of my jeans, but I couldn't stand right now if someone put a gun to my head.
Sarah sits on the closed toilet lid with her back pressed against the tank, her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her shins like she's trying to make herself as small as possible.
Four test sticks line the counter beside the sink, white plastic wands with tiny windows that will decide our future in the next few minutes.
My hand engulfs hers completely—her fingers so small and delicate wrapped in my grip, her knuckles white where she squeezes back hard enough to grind bone against bone.
The timer on her phone shows two minutes and twenty-three seconds remaining.
I feel her heart pounding through the bond, a rapid, uneven rhythm that matches the frantic pulse I can see jumping in her throat. My own heart hammers against my ribs, loud enough that she can probably hear it in the silence of the small room.
I know the answer before we look at the tests. My body knows it. The bond knows it. Something ancient and instinctive in my blood recognizes the truth even though my mind hasn't caught up yet.
"What if it's positive?" Her voice comes out small, almost lost in the quiet.
"Then I spend the next ten months being insufferable.
" I trace my thumb across her knuckles, slow and soothing, trying to ground us both in the simple reality of skin against skin.
Every protective instinct I have will amplify until you'll want to murder me.
I'll hover. I'll growl at anyone who gets too close.
I'll probably try to carry you everywhere because the thought of you climbing stairs or lifting anything heavier than a coffee cup will turn me into someone she doesn't want to live with.
A wet laugh escapes her, some of the tension bleeding out of her shoulders. "Ten months?"
"Orc pregnancies run longer than human ones.
" I lift her hand and press my lips to her palm, letting my breath warm her skin as I speak.
"Human women carrying orc children inherit the extended timeline along with other changes.
Your body will adapt in ways that might surprise you.
You'll heal faster from any injury. Your senses will sharpen even more than they already have.
The bond between us will deepen in ways I can't fully predict—ways that go beyond what I've already claimed. "
"And the baby?"
"Will be orc." I hold her gaze, searching for any sign of doubt, any flicker of hesitation that might tell me this is too much, too fast, too far outside the life she imagined for herself.
"Children always take after the father's species in cross-pairings.
Tusks, green skin, the whole package. Large, too—larger than a human infant, though your body will be strong enough to handle it by then. "
Her face shifts through a dozen expressions in the span of a heartbeat—surprise, something that might be worry—but I don't see fear. Not the kind of fear that makes people run.
"Will it hurt? The birth?"
"You'll have orc resilience by then. And I'll be there for every moment, every breath, every second of it." The timer shows fifty-one seconds remaining. "Hey, look at me."
She does, her eyes shining with tears that haven't fallen yet, her lip caught between her teeth again.
"I need you to tell me the truth. Not what you think I want to hear, not what you think will make this easier.
The real truth, even if it's hard." I hold her gaze with everything I have, pouring conviction through the bond so she can feel it in her bones.
"Are you okay with this? With an orc child?
With me as the father? With everything that comes along with carrying my blood for the next ten months? "
She cups my face with her free hand, her thumb brushing across my cheekbone. Her fingers drift lower, tracing the curve of my tusk.
"Knox." Her voice doesn't waver. "I want your baby. Tusks and all. I want your life, your world, everything you are and everything we'll become together. I'm scared out of my mind right now, but not of that."
The timer beeps.
Neither of us moves for a long moment, the shrill electronic sound echoing off the tile walls while we sit frozen in place. Sarah's hand tightens in mine, her breath catching, her whole body going rigid with anticipation.
I reach for the first test and turn it over.
Two pink lines in the little window. Positive.