Page 36 of Adored By The Orc

She felt a connection to Hisa. How often has she said she remembered a faceless girl in her dreams?

But to find out her mother lives was a slam to my gut. I had no idea she thought Joanna was dead. If I had some inkling, I would have prepared her.

Even now, tears still run down her cheeks, mixing with the bathwater as I run the fur over her shoulders and along her slender arms. She’s hunched into herself, knees drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on them.

Her spine looks so delicate, her shoulders, perfectly squared. I want to run my lips along it, lick each bump—because she’s mine. Every curve, every smile, every tattoo. Every. Tear. When she cries with such gut-wrenching sobs, it tears at my heart because I can’t fix this for her.

It was just a few hours ago that I held her in my arms, rode into the village with her in front of me to show our mated status. No, I haven’t asked her, but I’ve claimed her in front of the world. I meant what I said to her, if she leaves, I will follow her to the ends of the Earth.

Her skin shines with pink, the faint tinge of green looks like it glows against the paleness. She’s always been so fucking beautiful and isn’t even aware of it.

“Do you mean it? You’ll take me wherever I wish to go?” she asks, her throat husky from tears.

“Aye. I do.”

Her shoulders relax the tiniest bit and then she drops her knees.

I will not stare at her breasts. I will not notice the luscious green tint of her nipples. And she’s so small, there’s plenty of room in the tub so she slides over, closer to the edge, and closer to me. I’m right there for her, realizing she needs me. She needs my touch.

Mine.

And I need hers.

I finish bathing her and then scoop her out, drying her thoroughly so she doesn’t chill, and then drape her in one of my shirts.

She looks perfect in it. She looks like she’s home, in my home, in my bed, in my shirt.

Outside our tent, it’s quiet like the world doesn’t exist. Like the clan is walking around on tiptoes, determined not to upset our missing one. Eventually, I make my way to the door and call out for someone to bring dinner. From across the way, her father stands, his face devastated. I nod at him, trying to let him know that she’s fine. That he doesn’t need to continuously imagine what horrors she’s been told. None of us know and until she completely trusts us, she may not share.

He turns away and soon there’s a rattle at the door. My grandmother, Aga, sticks her head in.

“Brought you two something to eat, though you’re welcome to come out to the kitchens if you want.” She turns to Shalia. “You can come into them at any time. Everyone will introduce themselves to you, or show you around. Whatever you want, cara’jek.”

She enters the tent, Azorr behind her carrying the tray of dishes. She heads to my chest as she speaks, pulling out a small folding table and setting it up. “Your clothes have been brought in here too,” she says to Shalia, waving her hand at her dresses lined up next to my clothing. “Though you’ve lost a bit of weight. If you need anything else to wear in the meantime, you just let us know. I’m sure the... seamstress will alter anything for you.” She’s careful not to mention Joanna’s name, who sews the human dresses.

Azorr places the tray on it and Aga smiles at us brightly before leaving.

Azorr looks back over his shoulder, then nods.

“I’ll wear my own clothes.” Shalia scowls at me when they leave.

“Of course, sweet.” I know she means the Blackheart garb, but mayhap she’ll come to remember they’re all her clothes hanging and, in the meantime, she’s wearing a dead man’s gear. “You’re also welcome to go through anything of mine. A shirt to sleep in. Or a knife to carry.” I point to the weapons box at the foot of the bed.

“Th-thank you,” she says carefully. Then she looks down at the box to see her discarded clothes I placed on there earlier.

“I mean it,” she says. “I don’t wish to stay.” But her voice isn’t as panicked as it was earlier. ‘Tis an empty threat and she knows it. Instead, she tries to convince herself.

“I know. Come eat while it’s hot.”

She calms somewhat as we eat, her appetite growing as she tastes all the familiar foods. She doesn’t say she remembers them, of course, but I can see her eyes grow wider as she shoves different things in her mouth.

“Food tastes better when you don’t always have to prepare it yourself,” she says.

“I’ve heard that.”

“Bakog,” she says. “How long will it take to deliver the two males of my clan captured here?”

I shrug and lie through my teeth. If I know my males, they can show up at any time. They’re keeping them away, scaring them, prying information from them. But the longer she waits, the better the chance that she’ll remember things. “Two days, maybe.”

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