Page 24 of Bound in Flames

Cleo hadn’t stirred since I carried her there, her body limp with exhaustion and covered in blood. I’d ordered her furs to be laid with mine against the cliff wall, away from the others in case her magic flared when she woke. Yet, that hadn’t stopped them from stealing uneasy glances in her direction, their fear as palpable as the damp chill in the air. I could see it in the way they avoided her name, avoided looking at me too long. Not just fear—uncertainty. Something had shifted in all of us, and no one dared to name it.

The memory of the battle clawed at me. Her magic had surged through the earth, shaking the ground beneath us. The air had thrummed with electrifying energy, her veins glowing with a light so otherworldly it had felt like staring into the heart of the storm. When her eyes flashed silver, it wasn’t just magicshe wielded—shewasmagic. Not in a way I’d ever seen before. Not in an orc. Not in a human.

I flexed my fists, heat pooling in my chest as I recalled the moment she reached for my hand. The power that surged between us had been alive, scorching and impossible to contain. Together, we had driven the darkness back, but the price was etched into my memory: her collapse, her body wracked with pain, her blood on my hands. She’d carried too much, borne the weight of something too powerful, and it had nearly destroyed her.

And the kiss the night before at the river’s edge. The memory blazed through me, as vivid as the firelight flickering through the subdued camp. We had been bathing, the cool water lapping at our skin when she’d closed the distance between us. Her touch had been confident yet desperate, unraveling something tightly coiled inside me. Her lips were soft, grounding me in a way that felt both dangerous and irresistible. With the camp’s quiet pressing in around me, I couldn’t deny the ache to feel it again.

A rustle broke my thoughts, and I turned to see Torak approaching, silhouetted against the firelight. His expression was grim, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger like a lifeline. “We need to talk,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying an edge of exhaustion.

I inclined my head, motioning for the others lingering nearby to join us. They hesitantly approached, their gazes flicking toward Cleo before settling on me.

Torak spoke first, his tone low and filled with unease. “That wasn’t a Dark One, Dex. I don’t know what it was, but it felt like it was pulling the warmth from our bodies. Feeding on us.”

Gornak nodded. “It was worse than any pain I’ve felt. It was draining us from the inside.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group, and I found myself gritting my teeth as their words mirrored what Ihad felt. That consuming cold emptiness, the air thinning with every breath as though the mist had devoured.

“And her magic...” Torak’s voice softened. “It wasn’t just warmth. It was life. It held us and pulled us back from the void.”

Gornak added, his voice hushed, “It wasn’t just pulling us back. It was filling us, anchoring us. She reached into us—into our verysouls.”

Their words hung in the air, heavy with awe and fear. I stared into the fire, my thoughts a chaotic tangle. They were right. I had felt it how her magic had touched something deeper than flesh, something no orc or shaman could reach. And I knew it meant she was the chosen one. The shaman prophesied to unite the clans, to lead us out of exile. But Cleo’s power came with a cost. The way she had collapsed haunted me. Blood seeping from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, streaking her pale skin, a macabre testament to the toll of her magic. The memory twisted something deep in my chest. A primal, gut-wrenching fear that burned with a desperate need to protect her. Not just from the world, but from herself. Her magic had twisted violently when she tried to cut the flow, and it had nearly consumed her. If she couldn’t learn to control it, I feared it would destroy her.

“Her magic is more powerful than anticipated. She will need to be trained,” I said, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that lingered.

After a brief discussion on our plans for the remainder of the journey home, the warriors dispersed and my eyes drifted back to Cleo. She lay there, unaware of the storm she had unleashed—Not just in the battle, but in me. I flexed my fingers, remembering how her magic had surged through us leaving phantom spikes of energy in its wake. How my touch had steadied the chaos inside her. She was my mate.

The word realization struck something primal in me. It gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, both a comfort and awarning. Orc mate bonds were absolute, unbreakable, but this?A human?It defied everything I’d ever known, and yet, the truth of it clung to me like her scent on the air—inescapable.

A heavy tread broke my thoughts, and I looked up to see Gornak approaching. He carried himself with his usual easy confidence, though his expression was uncharacteristically pensive. He settled beside me, his gaze following mine to the furs where Cleo lay. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

"She’s got a strength in her," Gornak said at last, his voice low and contemplative. "Not just in her magic. She's a fierce little thing."

I nodded, but my jaw tightened. "She’s untrained. Unpredictable. That’s dangerous."

He chuckled softly, a sound that felt out of place in the tense quiet of the camp. "And yet you can’t stop watching her. You feel it, don’t you? The connection?"

I stiffened, heat rising to my face. "What are you talking about?"

Gornak leaned back, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. "You know exactly what I'm talking about and don’t pretend otherwise. It’s written all over your face, Dex. You’re drawn to her."

I dragged a hand across my face, the weight of exhaustion pressing into me. Frustration simmered beneath the surface, tangled with thoughts I couldn’t escape. Gornak was my oldest friend and mentor, and the only one I felt I could speak to about this. “It feels instinctual, like something carved into my bones.”

"That's because she is your mate, my friend." Gornak’s grin widened, and he slapped me on the back, the force nearly knocking me forward. "Well, let me know if it’s actually possible to bed a human. They’re so tiny and fragile looking. Also very timid."

My face burned, and I shot him a glare. The memory of the kiss we shared flashed unbidden in my mind. Against my better judgment, the words slipped out before I could stop them. "She not timid at all. She kissed me. Last night, by the river."

Gornak leaned back with a booming laugh, slapping his knee and earning a few glances from the other warriors nearby. "Shekissedyou?" he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, Dex, looks like the little human is intrigued enough to try riding your orc coc?—"

"Gornak.” I scowled, though the corners of my mouth twitched against my will. Despite my frustration, I couldn’t deny the rush I felt at his words. Cleo consumed my thoughts, weaving herself into the fabric of my every waking moment. It wasn’t just her magic or her defiance—it was everything. Her presence was a storm, impossible to ignore, and I found myself pulled into it, both infuriated and exhilarated by her. My awareness of her was constant, every movement, every breath she took felt like a tether binding me to her, intoxicating and maddening in equal measure.

She was mine.

Oblivious to the possessive nature of my thoughts, Gornak's grin faded as his gaze drifted back to Cleo. "She’s something special, Dex. Even the rest of us can see it. Don’t mess it up."

As if sensing my thoughts, he answered the question burning in my head. "We have time to figure it out and find another way. A way that keeps both the clan and her safe.”

"The clan needs?—"

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