Page 48 of The Orc Outcast's Miracle

He could go from ruthless to tender in so little time... her heart melted.

She adjusted so her hands could roam over his abs, trace the divides and grooves with her fingertips, breathe in his husky spice.

A low whimper pulled her out of her thoughts, and she blinked. Finally, looking up to Govek’s face.

Instead of blissful, she found him tortured, brows tight. His gaze was fixed on her shoulder, which throbbed and pulsed with the steady beat of her heart. Hers and his. It pounded in her soul.

Govek’s breath came out shuddering and raw. His jaw trembled.

He regretted it.

She didn’t.

“I hope it scars,” she said softly, and his eyes went wide with remorse. She caught his gaze. “I hope it scars so that I’m branded by you. So that anytime anyone sees it, they’ll know I’m yours. And I’ll remember too. I never want to forget this.”

His expression fell from torture to gaping shock so fast she almost couldn’t believe it. He blinked his beautiful golden green eyes at her, opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

And then his face crumbled, and he buried it in her shoulder again, hiding himself away as he trembled. Clinging to her as he rode out the storm of his emotions.

Her mind fluttered back to the revelation she’d come to with Savili and Iytier.

“I love you, Govek,” she whispered into his scalp, and he began to quake. His grip around her waist tightened, and his breath shuddered. She curled her fingers in his hair and pulled him back gently so he would meet her eyes, see the honesty there. “I love you.”

His eyes were flooded, and he plastered a kiss to her lips. His mouth was so soft, so sweet. His tongue bathed her in tenderness even as she tasted her own blood on it. The contrast was so perfect her eyes prickled with unshed tears.

He rained kisses down her face, and she returned them. She kissed the wetness on his cheeks, absorbing as many of his turbulent emotions as she could.

She wanted him to feel nothing but good. Only pleasure and contentment and bliss for the rest of his days. And she was going to watch every one of those days by his side.

Chapter

Thirteen

GOVEK

They had safely returned to their home and Govek still could not find words.

He watched Miranda cook at the stove. He’d bandaged her shoulder and the white linen peeped through the neckline of her new dress. The other was ruined, but she’d folded it neatly and tucked it safely into the bottom of her trunk. She said she wanted to keep it.

He had tinctures that would heal the injury in moments, but she refused them. She hadn’t been embellishing when she’d said she wanted it to scar. And scar it would. The raised white and pink marks would forever remind him of this day.

Fuck, what had he done? He’d lost himself. Given into his most ruthless needs.

And she’d liked it. She’d wanted it. She’d said that . . . that she . . .

His mind couldn’t seem to process, so he focused on the food. Foreign combinations of garlic and ginger. His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered.

“Hey.”

She turned to face him and quirked a smile as if she knew what he was thinking. “Come over here.”

He got up from his chair at the table and loped shakily across the floor. She plucked a quick kiss to his jaw and pulled him by the hand until his chest was against her back. Her sweet scent mingled with the cooking and made him lean in.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this much bliss, contentment, joy.

He nuzzled the top of her head as she turned back to the pan. His body shivered against her as she stroked the arm he’d wrapped around her waist. He needed to find words. To speak. But he couldn’t. They just wouldn’t come out of his worthless throat.

“This is nice.” She leaned into him. “We should cook like this all the time.”

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