Page 60 of Her Rugged Orcs

42

EIRA

The hearth fire bathes our naked bodies in a golden glow as I lay between my three orcs. Grash's massive arm drapes across my waist, while Dren's fingers trace patterns on my shoulder. Murok's braids tickle my cheek as he nuzzles closer. The guilt that's been eating at me suddenly surges, sharp and cold despite their warmth.

"What's wrong?" Murok asks, his piercing eyes studying my face. Of course he notices - he always notices everything.

I swallow hard. "I need to tell you something." My voice comes out smaller than intended.

Grash's arm tightens slightly around me. "Tell us what?"

The words stick in my throat. How do I explain that when they accused me of betraying them, they were right? That I'd been so hurt learning I was simply a mission that I wanted them to suffer too?

"Remember when you thought I was tipping off the dark elves?" My fingers twist in the fur beneath us. "You were right."

Dren goes still beside me. Grash's breath catches. But Murok - Murok just watches me with those knowing eyes.

"You knew," I whisper, meeting his gaze. "You knew the whole time, didn't you?"

"Yes." His voice holds no judgment.

Tears burn behind my eyes. "I was so stupid. When I found out I was simply a mission, I thought..." I take a shaky breath. "I thought everything between us was a lie. That you were just using me like everyone else had."

"Never," Grash growls, his voice rough with emotion.

"I know that now." I turn to face them fully. "When you were wounded, Grash - I realized how foolish I'd been. How real this was. How real it had always been."

Dren's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. His eyes say what his voice doesn't - that he understands, that he forgives me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I should have told you sooner."

My confession hangs in the air, but there's more truth that needs to come out. The fire crackles, sending shadows dancing across our intertwined bodies as I gather my courage.

"When you accused me that night... of betraying you to the dark elves..." My voice catches. "I acted so hurt, so angry. But the truth is, I was terrified because you'd figured me out. I wasn't mad at you at all - I was disgusted with myself."

Murok's fingers trace along my spine. "I know."

"You let me push you away. Let me act like the wounded party when I was the one who..." The words taste bitter in my mouth. "When I was the one who betrayed you first."

"You needed time," Murok says simply.

A bitter laugh escapes me. "Time to what? Pretend I was the victim when I was the villain? I created this whole charade of being hurt by you when really..." My fingers dig into the fur. "When really I just couldn't stand myself. A worthless slave who betrayed the only ones who ever truly cared for her."

Grash's grip tightens. "You're not worthless."

"Why did you let me keep up that act?" I ask, looking at Murok, my voice small. "You knew I was lying about being angry with you. You knew it was all just... self-hatred."

"Because," Murok says, tilting my chin up, "sometimes people need to find their own way back to the truth."

Dren's hand finds mine in the darkness, his touch gentle. A silent reminder that I'm not alone anymore.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," I whisper.

"Good thing it's not about deserving," Murok replies. "It's about love."

The word makes my heart ache. Love - the very thing I'd been so afraid to believe in, I'd nearly destroyed it trying to prove it couldn't be real.

The tears flow freely now, hot against my cheeks as I lay wrapped in their warmth. Grash's massive chest rises and falls against my back. Dren's fingers brush away each tear as it falls, his silver eyes holding mine with such tenderness it makes my heart tighten. Murok's breath tickles my shoulder as he leans closer, his presence steady and sure.

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