Page 4 of The Orc's Promised Bride

Night.She shivered at the thought of being naked and alone when night fell on this mysterious forest. Deciding that heading downhill was most likely to lead to some kind of civilization, and hopefully a water source, she set off, moving as quietly as possible. The forest floor was soft under her feet, cushioned with decades of fallen leaves.

“There has to be a road, a trail, something,” she whispered, needing to hear a human voice, even if only her own.

The words disappeared into the silent trees, but she kept moving, one careful step at a time. Whatever had brought her here, there had to be a way to get back and she was determined to find it.

CHAPTER 3

Lothar’s boots crunched against loose rocks as he climbed the mountain path away from Port Cael. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the towering pines, and a cool breeze carried the sharp scent of resin. He adjusted the pack on his shoulder, its familiar weight doing nothing to ease the heaviness in his chest.

“Damn fool.”

He kicked a stone, sending it skittering down the slope, and a hawk’s cry echoed above him. He paused, watching it wheel above the treetops, free and alone. Like him. His hand tightened on his sword hilt.

“At least Wulf and Egon aren’t here to witness this,” he said, and the bird’s cry turned mocking.

Neither of his brothers had tried to talk him out of attending the Bride Trials, and he knew why. He might have told himself he didn’t need a mate, but his clan did. Without mates, without children, their clan would grow smaller every year.

Wulf had already found everything Lothar secretly yearned for - love, purpose, completion - in Kari. The human woman who’d appeared in their world in answer to Wulf’s prayers had transformed his brother’s life, brought light to his darkness.

“Some warrior you are,” he muttered, “running from a fight you’ve already won.”

But it hadn’t felt like victory, watching hope drain from that female’s face. He didn’t want a mate bound by duty rather than choice. The thought of forcing such a fate on another turned his stomach.

The path leveled out into a meadow and he stopped, dropping his pack to the ground. Slumping against a boulder, he slid down to sit on its sun-warmed surface. He pulled out his water skin but didn’t drink, just held it, staring at the distant peaks. The trail wound higher into the mountains, away from his village, his clan, his responsibilities. He wasn’t ready to face their questions, their disappointment - or worse, their understanding. Not when he could barely face himself.

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet again, hoping to find some solace in the silence of the mountains.

By the time the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks, painting the sky in deep purples and oranges, his muscles ached from the long climb but his unrest hadn’t vanished. When he found a small clearing a short distance from a stream he decided to set up camp for the night.

The familiar motions did nothing to distract him from his thoughts. Kindling and small branches arranged just so, flint struck against steel, and soon a modest fire pushed back the growing darkness. The flames cast dancing shadows across theclearing as he unrolled his bedding and pulled out a wrapped package of dried meat and hard bread. He chewed mechanically, barely tasting the food. Usually, he’d have a story ready, some joke or tale to share around the fire - but who was there to share it with? Just the crackling flames and the chorus of night insects starting their evening song.

He tossed another branch onto the fire, watching the sparks spiral upward into the darkening sky. The emptiness of the mountains pressed in around him, matching the hollow feeling in his chest. He’d always found something to laugh about, some silver lining to cling to, but tonight… tonight the jokes wouldn’t come. For the first time in years, he couldn’t conjure up a single reason to smile. The path ahead stretched empty and meaningless, leading nowhere except away from any chance of finding a mate who might look at him the way that female had looked at Garak.

He was still brooding when a muffled cry broke the stillness. He rose to his feet, sword in hand, instantly alert. He waited, straining his ears for the source of the sound. Another cry - desperate and distinctly female. He moved swiftly but cautiously, following the sounds through the dark trees. The moon was just beginning to rise, bathing the forest in an eerie light, but he had no problem making his way in the direction of the sound.

Then he heard a low, familiar snarl.Fuck.A dire wolf.

Abandoning caution he raced forward, emerging into a rocky clearing. A human woman - small and half-wrapped in vines - brandished a branch at the dire wolf. Blood trickled down her arm, dark in the moonlight. The beast’s yellow eyes were fixed on the woman as it stalked towards her.

The woman’s stance spoke of desperation rather than training, her hands trembling on the makeshift weapon. Yet she held her ground, chin lifted in defiance even as fear rolled off her in waves.

His heart hammered against his ribs, not fear for himself but fear that he wouldn’t reach the woman in time. He yelled and raced forward, trying to place himself between the woman and the wolf. The creature’s head whipped toward him, lips peeling back from yellowed fangs.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, not daring to take his eyes off the threat when he heard her cry out again.

The wolf’s massive shoulders rippled beneath its coarse grey fur, a rumbling growl vibrating deep in its chest as he raised his sword. The wolf lunged, claws raking the air where he’d stood a heartbeat before. He pivoted left, sword flashing in a deceptive arc that drew the creature’s attention while his feet shifted right. The wolf’s bulk worked against it, its momentum carrying it past him as he danced aside.

He’d fought countless matches, but the stakes were different now. He had to keep the wolf’s focus on him rather than the woman. Her presence behind him filled him with an intensity he’d never experienced in combat before. For the first time since leaving Port Cael, the doubt and self-pity disappeared. This was something real - a life that needed his protection. A purpose that replaced the hollow ache that had plagued him since the Trials.

The creature’s yellow eyes tracked his blade as it turned, seeking an opening. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in patches, casting misleading shadows across the rocky ground. They circled each other, but he kept himself between the wolf and thewoman. The predatory gaze turned towards her and the Curse prickled his skin, reacting to the threat.

The wolf tried to pass but he blocked it. It growled and swiped at him with extended claws, barely missing his chest, and he roared as the Curse threatened to take over.

The wolf’s ears suddenly pricked forward and it stopped advancing. It whined, almost apologetically, and slunk back into the trees.

He stared after the retreating creature in shock. He’d never heard of a dire wolf retreating from a potential kill. He kept his sword raised as he tracked the sound of the beast’s retreat. The forest settled back into silence broken only by the soft whisper of leaves.

Satisfied that it was not going to return, he turned to the woman. She was sprawled back against one of the rocks that littered the clearing, her branch still clutched in one hand, and he remembered the cry he’d heard. She must have tripped as she backed away.

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