Page 15 of Her Orc Blacksmiths

My lips quirk up in a smile I try to suppress. “Is that why you need a break from time to time?”

He chuckles ruefully. “There’s no keeping that from you, is there?” He runs his hand through his long black hair and sighs. “I suppose we showed you the worst of us last night in the great hall.”

I think for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Not the worst, I don’t think. You both thought the other was lying and trying to take something of yours.”

Not that I think I belong to them in any sort of material way, but I’ve now seen and heard enough to know that finding a mate is extremely important to orcs.

“I don’t think he’s lying,” Torren mutters.

I look up at him, surprised. “You don’t?”

“Ah, perhaps I did, at the start,” he admits. “He’d already taken my peace of mind and half my forge, so I thought, of course he’d want to steal my mate from me out of spite.”

So many questions spring to mind at this confession. But I can’t ask all at once, so I settle for the one that seems most pressing.

“So you really believe you’re both my mates?”

His mouth twists with what might be distaste or dismay as we head down from the open main gate and turn onto a wide footpath leading away from the Hill. There’s enough room for us to walk side by side, but I’m glad of my boots nonetheless—it’s a cool morning here in the mountains.

Torren doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t contradict me either, so I try a different question.

“What will happen if I choose one of you?” I keep my voice light, even though the thought of it wrenches something inside me.

He tenses beside me, slowing his steps. “What do you mean?”

I tug him to a stop and face him, needing to see his eyes. “If I choose Morg, what will happen with you? Will you find another mate?”

I’m cruel to be asking this, I know. I could have worded it differently, to ask what would happen to Morg, but I don’t want Torren to brush the question aside.

He stares at me for a long moment, clenching the handle of the picnic basket so tightly the wood creaks under pressure.

“Hey.”

I place my hand on his chest, feeling much too forward, but I need to comfort him somehow. It’s an instinct I can’t explain, but the moment I touch Torren, some of his tension evaporates.

He blows out a long breath and closes his eyes, leaning down to press his forehead to mine. “You don’t know how it feels,” he rasps, “to finally meet your mate after so long—and live in the danger of having her snatched away.”

I swallow thickly because I feel the raw emotion in his voice. “Then explain it to me.”

His next breath touches my lips, but I don’t move away. He shifts slightly and finally puts his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. I don’t even think he’s conscious that he’s doing it.

“Orcs only get one mate,” he says quietly. “We can form attachments in life before that, but within our society, that’s always done with the knowledge that at any time, one of the couple might meet their mate and forget about the other immediately.”

I look up, shocked. “Did you?—?”

Suddenly, an irrational wave of jealousy swamps me at the thought of some orc woman, beautiful and brave like Ritta and Sarrai, sharing Torren’s life and bed. What if she’s there in the Hill, angry at me because I stole away her partner?

But Torren shakes his head. “Not for a while now. There was Irrin, but she met her mate and is now very happily mated with many children. But it doesn’t ever feel right, the way we all know it should with a mate.”

“Oh.” I clench my hand in the fabric of his tunic, unwilling to let go. I want to ask about Morg, but at the same time, I don’t want to know. He’s younger than Torren and so damn handsome—surely he’s in high demand.

“Morg didn’t have a partner either,” Torren says softly.

I lean back to meet his gaze, and he gives me a slight smile, only a twitch of his lips.

“Thank you for telling me,” I whisper past a suddenly tight throat. “I don’t know why it should matter so much. I don’t have any claim to you. I arrived at the Hill and upset your lives.”

Torren takes my chin and lifts it gently. “You have every claim. I am yours, and I suspect Morg would say the same. And I’m glad you’re jealous, Jasmine. That tells me you care. But know that for us, there is only you from now on.”

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