Page 15 of Orri

“He would want to make sure you were safe, and happy.” Orri finishes my sentence. And it dawns on me that maybe he’s right.

It doesn’t change everything right away. And it doesn’t take away the grief and loss I feel for Bjornick. But what if…accepting Orri’s help was not a betrayal, but a sort of homage to all that we’d had?

“Don’t worry.” His words wash over me and little by little, I relax into his arms. “This is normal. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

I focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I’ve been through so much. I’m so tired.

And is this the perfect way that I thought things would end up? No. But right now? The warm embrace of an alpha’s arms is enough, and I let myself drift into a peaceful state of being, buoyed by his warm words.

“Listen. I know you don’t know me, I know we’re not ‘official’ or anything, but—“ He stops, letting out a sigh. “But I’m not an asshole. I see someone hurting, I want to help. That’s what it comes down to, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” His hand brushes over my hair and my eyes flutter closed. “Just stay here and relax with me. I’ve got you.”

My trials aren’t over yet. I know that much for sure. But until I gather my strength again, Orri is my shelter from the storm.

ANOTHER TRY

ORRI

I’ve gotten myself into some pretty big messes in the past, but this one takes the cake. All I was trying to do was be nice. Help out an omega so clearly in need, especially when I was nearby and had both the time and capacity to do so.

Yeah. Being nice. That’s all it was.

At first.

But as she trembles in my arms, tears leaking from her dark eyes and drying on her beautiful face, I’ve never felt more conflicted in my life. On the one hand, I know this is wrong. That I shouldn’t be getting so close to such a young, pretty woman who could never be mine. Especially an omega still grieving her lost alpha. What kind of jerk would I be, to steal her from another man, even if he was already dead?

I’m an alpha, and that comes with a certain amount of possessiveness. But I’m not an asshole. Do I tense up at the smell of the other man? Do I wish it was me, in some forbidden part of myself, that she was attached to instead of Bjornick? Sure.

But that’s just basic biology. A simple cause and effect reaction that has no emotional bearing. Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Maybe if I repeat it in my head enough times, I’ll actually believe it.

My cock aches in my trousers, tenting the fabric between my legs. I grimace and try to adjust myself with one hand, glad that her eyes are closed. She deserves a nice, long rest, far away from the horrors of war and loss.

Too bad I can’t have the same.

Every time I look at her soft, innocent face, I can’t help but imagine tearing these blankets off and spearing her with my cock all over again. How badly I want to see the flush of her cheeks. The arch of her back. The rapturous sounds of my name on her lips.

But I didn’t get to see any of that, because I’d so foolishly thought that taking her from behind meant I wouldn’t get as attached. That I could simply pump into her, focus on the physical sensations, and give her what she needed to get through this heat. It wasjustsex to help her. Didn’t have to mean anything other than that.

Oh, who was I kidding?

It took every scrap of willpower I had left not to spill in her tight, needy pussy. Not to breed her full of my cum the way she — no, the way weboth— needed.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. Maybe, in another life, if things had been different…

I look past her still form and focus on the landscape outside the windows. Each tree and flower. Each cloud and each bird. I mentally catalog them all. It takes my mind off the immediate rush of feelings, but they’re still there, simmering in the back of my mind. And before I can catch myself, I start to speak.

Softly. To myself more than to anyone else. But maybe she needs to hear this just as much as I do.

“We’re not so different, you know.”

Isabella doesn’t answer, and I don’t expect her to. She’s probably sleeping, but I need to get this off my chest.

“I lost someone, too. Long ago.” The aching feeling in my heart returns, not only for Zannah this time, but for Isabella and all she’s been through recently. I know firsthand how it destroyed me to lose Zannah. And now I’m sitting here, comforting this scared, perfect creature caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time. She started off her life on Aesirheim with highly traumatic experiences.

“Life has a way of throwing us curve balls. Giving us answers we don’t expect, and leaving it to us to figure out how to pick up the pieces.” My hand runs absentmindedly through her hair, and her breathing slows.

“There was a girl. Zannah.” Even saying her name brings a fresh ache to my chest. I’ve never talked about this with anyone, not even my closest comrades. But sitting here with her, the words tumble out like water through a damaged bucket. “We met when we were kids. We grew up together. She was strong, bold. Ambitious.” A nostalgic smile crosses my face. “She wanted to train as a warrior, just like the rest of us. And she was good at it, too. Even beat some of our most talented fighters a couple times while sparring.”

Outside, the wind steadily blows through the valley, sending waves of floating flower petals across the grasslands. They alone bear witness to my words.

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