Page 23 of The Orc Who Saved Christmas

I hesitate, the words caught in my throat. "You'll come back," I say, the promise slipping from my lips before I can reconsider.

Her gaze meets mine. "Will we? Will they ever stop coming?" she asks. There's a resigned acceptance in her voice that stokes the embers of anger within me.

I turn away, staring into the flames of the hearth as if they might hold the answer. "Not unless you stop them at the source," I reply, the fire reflecting in my eyes.

After a long silence, she invites me to stay inside with her for the night, a gentle insistence that I cannot deny. "It might be the last time," she says, her smile tinged with sadness. I nod, accepting her invitation.

She suddenly surprisesme by pulling out the sack of flour I had traded for earlier in the day. Her hands soon work diligently, kneading and shaping the dough with practiced ease. The scent of baking pie fills the room, a sweet and unfamiliar aroma that stirs something within me.

When she finally places the small, steaming pie in front of me, her face glows with pride. I find myself at a loss for words. "You made this… for me?" I ask.

She nods eagerly, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. "I wanted you to try it," she gushes.

I take a bite, the flavors of sweet fruit and warm spices exploding across my tongue. It's a stark contrast to the rough and savage meals I've grown accustomed to. "It's… good," I say, stunned.

Her laughter fills the room, a sound as warm and comforting as the pie in my hands. "I'm glad you like it," she says, her eyes shining with joy.

As the night wears on, she shares stories of her past, painting vivid pictures of winters spent with her father. She speaks of Christmases filled with love and laughter, despite the harshness of their reality. "He died in the winter," she says softly, a shadow passing over her features. "But I never blamed the season for it. He wouldn't have wanted that."

I listen intently, her words stirring something within me—a longing for a time when I, too, knew the warmth of family and the comfort of home. For the first time in countless years, the weight on my shoulders feels lighter, the burden shared if only for a moment.

Our eyes lock, the fire crackling in the silence between us. The space that separates us seems to shrink, drawing us closer until our lips meet in a tender, hesitant kiss. It's a fleeting moment of warmth and connection in a world consumed by cold and violence.

As we pull away, the reality of our situation comes rushing back. The Icefang orcs are still out there, a looming threat that cannot be ignored. But for now, in the quiet of her home, with the taste of her pie still lingering on my tongue, I allow myself to believe that there may be hope for us yet.

24

CLAIRE

The warmth of the fire dances across Thrag's face, casting his features in a soft, flickering glow. The space between us is charged with an intensity that makes my heart flutter wildly in my chest. I lean in again, my gaze dropping to his lips. The kiss is my bold admission of the feelings that have been blooming within me.

His response is immediate and fierce. His hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me closer as his tongue slips into my mouth, exploring with a hunger that leaves me breathless. My hands find their way to his face, my fingers tracing the rough contours of his scars.

Thrag pulls away slightly, his breath ragged. "Claire," he murmurs.

"I know," I whisper back. "I can't help it. I... I care about you, Thrag. More than I should."

His eyes search mine, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he schools them back into his usual stoic mask. "You shouldn't," he says, but his grip on me doesn't lessen. "I'm not like you, Claire. I've done things?—"

"Things you had to do to survive," I interrupt, my tone firm. "We all have. But that's not who you are now. You've protected us, saved us. You've saved me."

He looks away, his jaw clenching as if he's wrestling with some internal demon. I reach up, gently turning his face back toward mine. "Thrag, look at me," I insist.

Reluctantly, his gaze meets mine once more. There's a world of pain and confusion in his eyes, but also a glimmer of something tender and hopeful.

"You can't fight this," I say softly. "Whatever this is between us... it's real. And it's worth holding onto, even in a world as dark as ours."

His lips claimmine again with an urgency that sends a thrill coursing through my veins. His kiss is intense, a primal declaration that sets my heart ablaze.

"Thrag," I gasp as his hands roam over my body, igniting a trail of heat wherever they wander.

"Can't... hold back... anymore," he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. His eyes are ablaze with desire, a raw vulnerability that mirrors my own.

In one swift motion, he lifts me off the ground, pinning me against the wood wall of my humble home. His strength is exhilarating. My body responds with a hunger I've never known.

His fingers soon deftly undo the fastenings of my clothes, giving way to reveal the soft, untouched skin beneath. The chill of the room does nothing to cool the fire within me.

His lips leave a scorching path from my mouth down the column of my neck, each kiss sending shivers cascading down my spine. His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples into hard peaks. I arch into his touch, a silent plea for more.

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