Page 63 of Her Rugged Orcs

The sunlight streaming through our window catches the moisture in her eyes. "I don't deserve you," she whispers, her voice breaking on the words. The guilt in her tone makes my grip tighten possessively on her wrist. She's wrong. So wrong.

Grash's snort breaks the tension. "That's the dumbest thing you've ever said."

I watch Murok's familiar smirk play across his face, but his blue eyes hold an intensity that matches my own feelings. "You deserve more than we ever gave you, Eira."

Words crowd my throat, threatening to spill out, but they're not needed. Instead, I release her wrist, letting my fingers drift up to brush her cheek. Her skin is silk beneath my touch. Our eyes lock - silver meeting green - and I pour everything I can't say into that gaze. The way she changed my world. The depth of my devotion. The promise that I'll kill anyone who tries to harm her again.

She leans into my touch, understanding everything I'm not saying. That's why she's mine - ours. She reads the silence as clearly as Murok reads his battle maps.

The heat of her body calls to me, makes me want to drag her back to our furs and show her exactly how much she deserves. But for now, this quiet moment is enough - Eira is safe and loved, surrounded by the warriors who would die to protect her.

My eyes never leave Eira as we move back into our living area, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath our feet. She could have chosen differently - could have stayed with her sisterin luxury instead of battle-hardened orcs with blood on their hands. My fingers twitch with the need to touch her, to remind myself she's real.

"Kira told me something interesting," Eira says suddenly, perching on the edge of our shared bed. Her green eyes dance with an emotion I can't quite read. "About why she chose each of you specifically for the mission."

Grash settles beside her, his massive frame making the bed creak. "What do you mean?"

"She said..." Eira's voice softens. "She said she hand-selected each of you because you represent pieces of me." Her fingers trace patterns on the fur beneath her. "Dren's knowing silence. Grash's protective nature. And Murok's strategic mind."

My breath catches. The connection I've felt to her since the pits - the pull that made me want to protect her, possess her, worship her - suddenly makes sense.

"The universe has a sick sense of humor," Murok says, but his eyes are thoughtful.

I move to Eira, unable to resist any longer. My fingers thread through her hair as I tilt her face up to mine. "You were always meant to be ours," I growl softly.

She leans into my touch, her pulse quickening under my fingers. "I think I knew, even in the pits. That's why I couldn't stay away, even when I wanted to hate you."

"The universe brought us together," Grash rumbles, his hand spanning her lower back. "But we chose to keep you."

I pull her closer, needing to feel her warmth against me. Everything about her calls to something primal in my soul - her strength, her vulnerability, the way she fits against me like she was crafted for us alone.

"No wonder we feel so connected," she whispers, and I can hear the wonder in her voice. "It's like we're pieces of the same soul."

I watch as understanding dawns in Eira's eyes, her revelation about our connection making her glow from within. My fingers trail down her spine, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. The bed creaks as I shift closer, drawn to her like a blade to its sheath.

"You're all of ours," I growl softly against her neck, inhaling her scent. "Every piece of you belongs with every piece of us."

Grash's massive hand spans her waist while Murok's fingers thread through her hair. The sight of her surrounded by us, protected and cherished, makes my blood burn.

"I never understood why I couldn't choose between you," Eira whispers, her eyes meeting mine. "Now I know - I wasn't meant to."

I capture her lips first, tasting her need. Grash's mouth finds her neck while Murok claims her shoulder. We move as one, three parts of the same warrior's soul loving the woman who completes us.

Her fingers gouge into my arms as she gasps. The sound feeds something primal in me, but I keep my touch gentle. She's had enough roughness in her life. Now she'll know only devotion.

"My warriors," she breathes against my lips. "My protectors."

"Always," Murok murmurs, his usual sarcasm replaced with raw honesty.

Grash rumbles in agreement, his eyes burning with possession.

I pull back just enough to watch her face as we worship her together. The way her lashes flutter, how her lips part on a sigh - every reaction is precious to me.

Our kisses blend together until there's no telling where one ends and another begins. Just like us - separate pieces forming one unbreakable whole. The world may not understand, but they don't need to. This is ours alone.

44

MUROK

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