Page 18 of The Orc's Promised Bride

The words triggered a flash of those nights - dark walls closing in, rough hands pinning her down. Her body trembled, and thistime it had nothing to do with the stream’s icy flow. The memory of being trapped, helpless…

A violent shudder ran through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the images away, to anchor herself in the present moment, as she counted her breath again.

“You’re freezing,” he muttered, his long strides carrying them swiftly to shore, still holding her at arm’s length.

She didn’t bother to correct his assumption about why she was shaking. The memories still clawed at the edges of her mind, making her throat tight. She wanted to reach for him, to let the warmth of his body chase away the chill, but right now every touch felt like too much and she was afraid she would panic again.

He carried her quickly back to the camp, putting her down carefully on a log he’d drawn up next to the fire. The wet cloak clung to her skin as he grabbed a rough linen towel from his pack and handed it to her.

“I’ll build up the fire,” he said, turning away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again as she let the wet cloak drop to the ground and wrapped the towel around her instead, fighting the urge to curl into herself.

“No.” His voice was tight with guilt. “Never be sorry for how you feel.”

She took more deep breaths, letting the fresh air fill her lungs instead of the stale darkness of her memories.I’m safe here, she told herself.Safe.

But the memories wouldn’t let go. Her hands shook as she gripped the makeshift towel, and she couldn’t stop the slightflinch when he moved past her to get more wood. She hated how the past could ambush her like this, turning a hopeful moment into something tainted.

She’d felt so close to him - she’d wanted to kiss him, wanted to experience more of these new and exciting feelings. And it had been wonderful, right up until the moment his arms tightened and she’d realized she couldn’t move.

The fire crackled as he added more wood. He kept his movements slow and predictable, maintaining a careful distance. Even through her internal struggles, she noticed his consideration. He didn’t hover or press her to explain. He simply stayed nearby, quiet and watchful, as if he sensed her need for space.

“You should dry yourself,” he said gently, but she could only huddle in on herself. He sighed and dug another towel out of his pack. “May I?”

Remembering the comforting feel of his hands as he washed her, she managed to nod. He dried her quickly and efficiently, moving carefully, his hands gentle. Every brush of the cloth made her more aware of his presence, his size, his strength. The urge to turn to him for comfort fought against the panic scratching at the edges of her mind.

He finished and handed her the clean shirt he’d offered her earlier, then sat back, his expression troubled.

“I am truly sorry about before. I shouldn’t have-”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It wasn’t your fault. I…” The words stuck in her throat. She’d never told anyone about this, had buried it so deep she could almost pretend itdidn’t exist. Almost. “I have trouble being restrained. When I can’t move freely, I…” She swallowed hard, unable to finish.

He sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on her face, and the concern in his expression made her chest ache. She didn’t want his pity, but she owed him some explanation after he’d been so patient. The quiet snap and crackle of the fire filled the silence between them until he shifted, still watching her.

“You are safe with me.” His voice was low and soothing. “I would never intentionally frighten you.”

The firelight caught the angles of his features, softening them. Those emerald eyes held no judgment, only understanding.

“I know that.”

The words surprised her - because they were true. Despite everything that had happened, despite her instinctive fear of being restrained, she did feel safe with him. The realization loosened something in her chest. Her shoulders dropped as the tension finally began to drain away. The warmth of the fire seeped into her bones, and the familiar scent of woodsmoke mixed with the lingering scent of the crushed moonleaf created an oddly comforting atmosphere.

“Thank you,” she whispered, not just for his words, but for everything - for saving her life, for caring for her through the fever, for understanding her fears without demanding explanations.

He smiled, and even his tusks couldn’t make it look anything but kind. When he turned back to the fire, she slipped the borrowed shirt over her head. She found herself watching his hands - so large and powerful, yet surprisingly deft as he added wild onions and some kind of root to the stew he’d started earlier.

“My brother Wulf once tried to cook,” he said lightly. “Nearly poisoned half the village with mushrooms he swore were edible.”

The mental image of a village full of queasy orcs made her smile despite herself. “What happened?”

“Egon and I spent three days nursing everyone back to health. Now we never let him near the cooking fires.” he flashed a grin at her over his shoulder. “Though he claims it was all part of his plan to get out of kitchen duty forever.”

She pulled his borrowed shirt closer around her shoulders, smiling as he launched into another tale about his brothers’ adventures. His voice rose and fell with the rhythm of the story, punctuated by gestures that sent shadows dancing across the clearing.

“It must be nice to have siblings,” she found herself saying.

“You said your mother could not have any more children?”

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