Page 56 of The Brute and the Blade

"Never," I growl against the curve of her breast. "Never stop loving you, Lily. Never stop fighting for you, for us...for the world we're trying to build."

She keens high in her throat, back arching like a drawn bow as I slide thick digits inside her, crooking them just so. "I love you," she gasps, nails raking furrows down my back. "I love you, Grok...my warlord, my heart..."

I groan, pulling my fingers out and sinking my sheath into her welcoming heat. I lose myself in the tight, wet clasp of her body. Thrusting deep, splitting her open on the thick length of me as she thrashes and mewls, inner muscles fluttering around my aching cock.

"My queen," I rasp, punctuating each word with a pump of my hips. "My salvation...my everything..."

Release crashes over us like a wave, sweeping us under in a riptide of pleasure so sharp it borders on pain. I muffle my roars in the fragrant silk of her hair, pouring myself into her, filling her with wet heat as she shudders and spasms, clenching me tight.

Long, languid moments later, as the aftershocks fade to pleasant shivers, I gather her close, fitting her curves to my angles. She sighs and snuggles deeper, her breathing evening out as she drifts towards dreams.

But I stay awake awhile longer, my mind whirling, hope and worry twining together in my chest. Hope for our fledgling peace, for the future we're fighting tooth and nail to build. Worry for the obstacles in our path...and the one glaring absence at our council fires.

The Skullcleavers. Brokk. My oldest rival, my bitterest foe...who carries grudges like others carry shields. Who's scorned every overture, spurned every plea to join our efforts.

I don't know what it will take to sway him, to crack that stony reserve. Don't know if anything can, after all the bad blood, all the bloody history between us.

But I know we have to try. Have to keep reaching out, keep extending the hand...even if it gets slapped away, time and time again.

For the sake of the peace we're building. The dream we're chasing.

And for Lily...who deserves a world without war. A life without the constant specter of death, of loss, dogging her steps.

"I'll keep fighting for you," I whisper into the dark, my arms tightening around my slumbering mate. "For us, Lily love. No matter how hard it gets, no matter how hopeless it seems...I won't give up. I won't let the Skullcleavers, or anyone else, stand in the way of the happiness, the healing, we've bled for."

I press a kiss to her temple, breathing in the sweet, sleepy scent of her. "I promise," I murmur. "With everything I have, everything I am...I promise."

And it's a vow I know I'll keep, unto my very last breath. A pledge I'll honor, even if it takes the rest of my days.

For her. For us.

22

Lily

The Great Hall is a sea of tension, the air thick with the mingled scents of human and ogre—leather and steel, sweat and suspicion. I stand at Grok's side, my spine straight, my chin high, as I survey the gathered leaders, the representatives of our warring peoples.

At least, those that we were able to get here. The Skullcleavers have continued to rebuff our invitations. My hope is that after today, as peace spreads, the small, mighty clan will begin to see things our way.

For now, we have enough opposition without throwing them into the mix. Our people seem more prepared for all-out war than a peace negotiation.

They eye each other warily across the aisle that divides them, a physical manifestation of the centuries of hatred and distrust that yawn between us. Glares and growls, hands twitching towards sword hilts and axe handles.

But they're here. They came, at Grok's call and mine, to this unprecedented summit. This chance, however fragile, for a new beginning. A new path forward.

And now...now it's up to me to convince them to take it. To sell them on the dream, the desperate hope, that's consumed me since the moment I opened my eyes to the truth of what Grok and I could be. Could mean, for the future of Agaroth.

No pressure, I think wryly, my palms going damp against the rich fabric of my gown. Just the fate of nations, of generations, riding on my words, my conviction.

But then Grok's hand finds mine, his fingers twining with my own. I look up at him, and the love shining in his amber eyes steadies me. Reminds me of everything we've overcome, everything we've built...and everything we still stand to gain.

Together. Always, only, together.

Drawing a deep breath, I step forward, into the waiting hush. "Lords and ladies, chieftains and champions," I begin, my voice carrying clear and strong in the vaulted space. "Thank you for gathering here today, for heeding the call to parlay. I know it wasn't an easy choice, or a comfortable one."

A rustle of unease, a hiss of drawn breath. I plow forward, letting my gaze travel the hall, locking eyes with human and ogre alike.

"We come here today burdened by generations of war, of loss and lament on a scale beyond reckoning," I continue, letting them hear the grief, the gravity in my tone. "We are all, every one of us, born of blood and bitterness, raised to hate and fear the other as a monster, a menace to be exterminated at all costs."

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