Page 5 of Unruly Hearts

"This is yours?" I ask, taking in every detail through an orc's keen eyes.

"Well, it was my parents'," she says, and lifts a framed photograph from a shelf. Two adult humans wearing climbing gear smile at the camera, ropes slung confidently over their shoulders.

"They were experienced climbers. They used to lead guided tours up the mountain." Her voice catches as her eyes drift to the damaged rope. "I can't bring myself to throw their things away. Even that rope from their last climb."

Her voice catches. "Their accident... it never should have happened."

I frown. My instinct is to offer comfort, but I hold back. The pain in her voice is still raw. Her parents' death clearly haunts her, and something about the way she describes the ‘accident’ sets off warning bells. I've spent enough time reading people at poker tables to recognize when someone's holding back crucial information.

But it's not my place to push. Not yet. For now, I simply nod to let her know I'm listening if she wants to share more.

Serenity moves to kindle a fire in the stone fireplace that anchors one wall, her practiced movements speaking of years spent in this space. When I try to help, she waves me off with a gentle smile.

I continue to wander around the cabin. The sitting area near the entrance holds two overstuffed chairs that look far too small for my frame. Bookshelves line the walls, packed with well-worn volumes about wildlife and mountain trails. Family photos dotthe shelves - a young Serenity growing up alongside her smiling blond-haired parents.

A sturdy dresser stands against one wall, and a door at the back presumably leads to what humans call a bathroom. I learned about that one the hard way when the casino managers got angry with me for relieving myself in a parking lot.

The whole space feels lived-in, comfortable, yet tinged with memory. It smells of Serenity - that intoxicating mix of forest and wildflowers that makes my blood run hot.

The fire is soon warming the room, and Serenity urges me to sit in one of the small chairs. I shake my head, and settle on the bed, which is at least sturdy enough not to break under me.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asks.

I shake my head. The bitter beverage never appealed to me. “Whiskey?” I ask hopefully.

Her eyes widen, but then a slow smile spreads across her face. “I guess it has been that kind of night.”

She leans forward to open a lower cabinet, and the sight of her curves sends a jolt of need through me. My body responds instantly, cock hardening with an intensity that terrifies me. I quickly adjust and pull the blanket folded at the end of the bed over my lap, trying to deny what my instincts are screaming.

The scent of her fills my head with a clarity I've never known. Each movement draws my eye like a starving wolf watching prey. That’s when I know - this tiny human is meant for me. My true mate.

I want to roar in frustration.

She's so small, so delicate compared to my monstrous form.

Her soul is pure light while mine is stained with debts and lies. She deserves better than a gambling orc who could crush her with one careless move.

She retrieves whiskey and glasses and closes the cabinet with a swing of her hip that makes my tusks ache. I exhale slowly and fight the urge to claim what can never be mine.

The feeling that she's my destined mate - and that I'm not worthy of her - burns worse than any loss I've ever known.

Serenity

Iturn back toward Agis with the whiskey glasses, trying not to stare at his massive form on my bed. The sight of those rippling muscles and tattoos makes my mouth go dry, so I focus on Mom's writing desk instead.

My fingers trace the familiar lemon-polished surface as I set down the glasses. "My parents were amazing people," I say as I pick up a photo to distract myself from how his massive size dominates the small cabin. "Mom could name every bird by its call. Dad knew these mountains better than anyone."

Remembering my task, I set down the photo and pick up the whiskey bottle and pour the alcohol with slightly trembling hands, very aware of how his gaze feels like a physical touch on my skin. "They met on a rescue mission—Mom got stuck on a ledge trying to save an injured eagle. Dad climbed up to help." The familiar story helps steady my racing pulse, though I can't help noticing how the firelight plays across his green skin.

"They built this place from nothing." I take a steadying breath and try not to think about those tusks and what they might feel like against my neck. "Spent every penny they had. People thought they were crazy, protecting wildlife out here."

A shift of movement draws my eyes back to Agis. He's very carefully not looking at me, but the blanket in his lap does nothing to hide his arousal. My words trail off as heat floods my cheeks. Dear god, is that all him? He's proportional everywhere, apparently. I quickly take a large swallow of whiskey, trying to cool the fire building under my skin.

My hands grow sweaty on the glasses, but I hand one to him and say, "Sorry, I'm rambling. It's just... the accident report never made sense. They were obsessive about safety. Mom checked every piece of equipment herself. Dad triple-checked her work."

I wipe my damp palms on my jeans, the fire suddenly too warm. "The investigator said the rope showed signs of chemical degradation, but that's impossible. They'd just bought new gear that week. I found the receipt."

After taking a sip of my whiskey, I set it down and pick up Mom's notebook. "She documented everything. The week before they died, she wrote about someone tampering with the equipment shed. The locks were broken. Dad said it was probably kids, but..."

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