Page 68 of Her Rugged Orcs

The mark on my collarbone throbs softly, a reminder of last night's bonding. My fingers trace over it, feeling the raised edges of the ceremonial cut. It doesn't hurt - not like the scars that came before. This mark means something different. Something better.

"Stop thinking so loud," Murok mumbles against my shoulder, his lips brushing my skin. "I can practically hear your mind racing."

"Sorry," I whisper, but I'm smiling. "Old habits."

Grash stirs, his golden-brown eyes opening slowly. "What habits?" His voice is rough with sleep.

"The habit of waiting for everything good to disappear," I admit, surprising myself with my honesty.

Dren's fingers tighten on my hip. He doesn't speak, but his eyes meet mine, understanding flooding his gaze. He knows what it's like to expect the worst.

"Nothing's disappearing," Murok says, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at me. "You're stuck with us now."

"Promise?" The word slips out, vulnerable and raw.

Grash's arm tightens around me. "More than a promise. A bond." His free hand traces the mark on my collarbone. "You're our mate, Eira. And we're yours."

"No more running away through the forest," Dren says softly.

I close my eyes, letting their presence wash over me. For the first time, I'm not searching for an escape route. I'm not calculating how to survive. I'm just... here. Safe. Loved.

"I love you," I whisper, the words coming easier now. "All of you."

Murok smirks against my skin. "We know."

Getting dressed proves to be a challenge when Grash keeps pulling me back for "one more kiss" and Murok won't stop smirking at my attempts to fix my hair. Dren silently hands me my shoes, his fingers lingering on mine longer than necessary.

The walk to my sister's home in the grand hall feels surreal. Grash's hand rests on my lower back, while Murok walks ahead, clearing our path through the busy settlement. Dren stays close to my right, his presence steady and reassuring.

The moment we enter, my breath catches. The hall gleams with hundreds of candles. The long tables are laden with more food than I've seen in years. My sister Kira stands near the head table, beaming, her orc chief husband towering protectively behind her.

"You didn't have to do this," I say, but my voice cracks with emotion.

"Of course I did." Kira rushes forward, pulling me into a tight embrace. "My little sister just completed her mating ritual. Withthree warriors, no less." She pulls back, grinning. "Always had to outdo me, didn't you?"

"Kira!" Heat floods my cheeks, but I'm laughing.

"Come, sit," her husband gestures to the places of honor. "Today we celebrate family."

Grash guides me to my seat, his touch possessive yet gentle. Murok settles on my other side, while Dren takes the seat directly across, his silver eyes never leaving mine.

"To new beginnings," Kira raises her cup, and the hall erupts in cheers.

I look around the table - at my sister's radiant smile, at her husband's proud stance, at my three mates who watch me with such devotion - and something tight in my chest finally unravels. This is what home and family means.

"You're thinking too hard again," Murok murmurs, his fingers finding mine under the table.

"I never thought I could have this," I admit quietly.

Grash's arm slides around my waist. "Get used to it."

Dren reaches across the table, touching the mark on my collarbone. "Forever," he says simply.

I lean into their touches, soaking in their warmth, their love, their protection. The hall buzzes with laughter and conversation, the air rich with the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread. My sister catches my eye from across the table and winks.

This is better than any fantasy I could have conjured in my darkest moments. This is real - my mates, my sister, my family, my home.

I soon embrace Kira tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender that still clings to her hair after all these years. "Thank you for everything."

---