Page 16 of The Orc's Stolen Bride

"Of course I am."

As she turned to leave, he put his hand on her arm.

"Thank you for taking care of her."

The older woman's eyes softened. "Of course. But remember, with great change comes great responsibility. Promise me you won't wait any longer."

When he nodded, she patted his hand, then left him alone in the shadows. He leaned against the cool stone wall, admitting to himself what he'd been trying to ignore. He was afraid. Afraid of Kari's reaction, afraid of damaging the connection between them. But Merow was right. Kari deserved the truth, no matter the cost.

She will forgive me, he assured himself. I will show her what a good mate I can be, and put my faith in Wold.

He let that hope buoy his spirits as he watched his clan celebrate. Tonight's celebration wasn't just for his good fortune, but for the hope it brought to everyone. It was about the future of all orcs. He clung to the belief that Wold had sent her for a reason beyond just his own happiness. There had to be more to it, a greater purpose for his people. But right now, the happiness of one small human female was what really mattered to him.

He slipped away and went to find his mate.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kari's eyes fluttered open, confusion filling her as she found herself once again in an unfamiliar place. She'd been too tired when Merow brought her here to pay much attention to her surroundings. The soft glow of an oil lamp cast dancing shadows across rough-hewn wooden beams overhead. She sat up slowly, her fingers sinking into the plush furs covering a massive bed. A familiar scent teased her nose and she suddenly remembered she was in Wulf's bed.

The impact of her situation hit her anew. Sharing a bedroll under the stars had felt temporary, almost like an adventure. But this... this felt permanent. Real.

He'd been so patient with her on the journey, despite the heat in his eyes and his seemingly ever present erection. But installing her in his rooms, the possessive way he'd introduced her to the other orcs... Would he expect more now? The kiss by the stream flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine - not entirely from nerves.

She stood abruptly, needing to move, to think. She slid off the bed, her bare feet sinking into a thick bearskin rug. It looked exactly like one she'd seen in a magazine once and she shook her head. Another one of those odd similarities with Earth.

The gown Merow had given her was way too long, pooling at her feet, and she had to hold it up as she explored. Merow had promised to fix it, her maternal clucking both comforting and strange, but the dress was a welcome change from her borrowed shirt.

The bed dominated a spacious bedroom, its sturdy frame crafted from thick logs, polished smooth by years of use. Intricate carvings adorned the headboard, an interwoven pattern that hinted at words but remained frustratingly obscure. She padded across the room, drawn to an ornate chest resting against the far wall. Its surface gleamed with inlaid metals, forming swirling patterns that seemed to move in the flickering lamplight, the craftsmanship exquisite.

An archway led her into a sitting area, furnished with oversized wooden chairs upholstered in more thick furs. A large desk occupied one corner. Papers covered in unfamiliar script lay scattered about, and she ran her fingers over the strange letters, wishing she could decipher their meaning. A combination of leather bound books and rolled parchments, along with a cluttered assortment of objects filled the shelves behind the desk.

A map spread on the desk caught her eye - its borders and landmarks were completely foreign to her but there was something about the outline that looked vaguely familiar and she sighed. No matter what similarities she uncovered, this was not her Earth.

A weapons rack hung on the wall next to the fireplace, displaying an impressive array of blades. Her gaze lingered on a particularly ornate dagger, its hilt adorned with what looked like precious stones, before looking around the room again. If there were similarities between this land and medieval Europe, Wulf was a man of some wealth and importance.

That suspicion was further compounded when she opened the door to a small adjoining room and discovered a crude but recognizable toilet. A steady trickle of water ran through a channel beneath it, carrying waste away. The ingenuity of the system impressed her, and it was certainly a step up from crouching in the woods.

She returned to the bedroom where heavy curtains in a plain woven fabric framed windows that looked out into a red-tinged darkness. She wandered over to the window seat, sinking into a thick leather cushion as she gazed out over the central area below. Firelight from the huge bonfire at the center cast long, dancing shadows across the courtyard, illuminating the massive forms of the celebrating orcs.

Their laughter echoed up to her perch, a deep, rumbling noise that sent a shiver down her spine. Mugs and horns clashed together in toasts, and the scent of roasting meat wafted up on the night air. It was primal, raw, and utterly foreign to her.

She searched for Wulf among the crowd, finding him easily enough. Even from a distance, his presence commanded attention. He stood tall among his warriors, the firelight glinting off his tusks as he threw his head back in laughter at something one of his companions said.

Watching him, she was struck by how familiar he had become to her in such a short time. She recognized the way he cocked his head when listening intently, the slight furrow in his brow when he was deep in thought. She knew the gentleness of his touch despite his imposing size, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her.

When had that happened? When had this fearsome orc become someone she knew so well?

Her fingers absently traced the unfamiliar fabric of the gown Merow had provided her during their visit to the bathhouse. The round building had surprised her with its unexpected luxury - a large wooden tub, big enough for a dozen people, steam rising invitingly from its surface. A metal fireplace built into one wall of the rub both heated the water and warmed the air.

Merow scooped out a bucket of the hot water, firmly insisting that she undress and wash before entering the tub. The thought of being naked in front of a stranger, even one as kind as Merow, made her feel exposed and vulnerable, but the promise of hot water surrounding her travel-weary body proved too tempting to resist.

As she sank into the soothing embrace of the tub, Merow bustled around, brewing a pot of tea on top of the stove. She brought her a mug, then sat down next to the tub with her own cup and started asking questions. Compelled by that bright, dark gaze, Kari found herself answering as honestly as she could.

"Where are you from?" Merow asked, her eyes keen with interest.

"Charleston," she replied, then elaborated, "Big city. Near ocean."

The older woman nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Family?"

---