Page 48 of Her Rugged Orcs

Eira hovers close, her fingers still intertwined with mine, refusing to let go even as we stumble through the forest. Her touch anchors me, keeping me focused through the haze of pain and fever.

We find shelter beneath an outcropping of rock, its weathered face creating a natural alcove. The moment they lower me to the ground, Eira's hands are on my face, checking my temperature.

"You're burning up," she whispers, fear making her voice tremble.

"I'll find herbs," Murok says, already turning to leave. "Keep him still."

"I don't need-" I start to protest, but Eira's finger presses against my lips.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she says, her eyes fierce. "You almost died protecting me. Let me protect you now."

The raw emotion in her voice silences any argument I might have made. Dren takes up position at the entrance, his eyes scanning the forest, but I catch the way he keeps glancing back at us.

"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her, grabbing her hand and pressing it against my chest, right over my heart.

She makes a sound between a laugh and a sob. "Promise me."

"I promise." I pull her closer, ignoring the pain that shoots through me. "I finally got you back. Death himself couldn't drag me away now."

Her fingers tighten around mine, and I see tears gathering in her eyes again. But this time, when she looks at me, there's something else there too - something that makes my heart pound harder.

"Rest," she commands softly. "I'm not leaving your side."

And despite my pride telling me to stay alert and to show strength, I let my eyes close, secure in the knowledge that she's here and she's mine.

The fire's warmth wraps around me later that night. My chest still throbs where the blade struck, but I barely notice it now. How can I focus on pain when Eira's small hand is wrapped in mine, her body pressed against my side?

"Drink," Murok commands, holding a cup of steaming liquid to my lips. The herbs taste like shit, but I swallow without complaint. I'm not about to show weakness, not even now.

"Your fever's breaking," Eira murmurs, her free hand pressed against my forehead. The gentle touch sends sparks through my blood that have nothing to do with healing herbs.

"Told you it would take more than this to kill me," I growl, pulling her closer. She comes willingly, fitting perfectly against my side like she was always supposed to be there.

Murok shakes his head, but I catch his smile as he approaches Eira from behind. "You finally came back to us,"he says, pressing a kiss against her temple. His hand strokes through her hair, and seeing her leaning into his touch makes my chest tight with something fiercer than possessiveness – it's completion.

"I never really left," she admits softly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I just didn't trust my heart until now."

The words hit me hard. I grip her hand tighter, wanting to pull her even closer, to show her she'll never have reason to doubt again. Before I can, Dren appears beside her, silent as always. He kneels and brushes away her tears.

Eira's lips then find mine, soft yet demanding, and my blood ignites despite the wound in my chest. Her fingers trace my arms as she pulls back. The firelight dances across her face, making her look otherworldly, precious.

"My warrior," she whispers, and pride swells within me at the possessiveness in her voice.

She turns to Murok next, who's been watching us with those calculating eyes of his. When she kisses him, it's different - challenging, playful - and I feel no jealousy, only satisfaction. She's claiming us all, marking us as hers just as we've marked her as ours.

Dren waits silently, but I see the hunger in his eyes as she approaches him. Their kiss is gentle, almost reverent, and something in my chest aches at the sight. The way she fits against each of us differently, perfectly - it's right.

She settles back against me, careful of my wound, and I wrap my arm around her waist.

"Rest," she commands, her small hand splayed across my chest. "We move at dawn."

I grunt in agreement, though rest is the last thing on my mind with her pressed against me like this.

The next morning, my body aches as I stand. The wound throbs with each movement, but it's shallow - more of anannoyance than a true threat. Eira hovers nearby as I test my strength, her concern visible in every line of her body.

"I can walk," I rumble before she can protest. "We're close to home."

"One day's journey," Murok confirms, already scanning the path ahead.

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