Page 23 of One Forbidden Night with Her Orc Boss

Cookies, both burnt and unburnt, consumed, after dinner tea drunk, my family finally packs up to leave. Lucy and Natasha have won everyone over, heart and soul.

My father, the head of our family since my mother passed away, never lowers himself to any of us. Yet, here he is, sitting on the floor, Lucy in his lap, Jair curled up against him, reading them a picture book. Her heavy head rests on his shoulder, one hand tangled in his gray beard. It’s a sight that makes emotions bubble up that I didn’t think I knew how to feel. Wonder, pride, a sense of longing for more ofthis.Coziness and home-life instead of wind whipping through my hair and adrenaline rushes at life-or-death situations.

As my brothers leave, Rael whispers, “I always believed you when you said you weren’t the domestic sort, that fated mates were a myth, and that love was a waste of time. And yet here you are, roasting meat, making lasagna, painting junk rooms pink. It makes me happy to see that you lied to us and yourself. Happiness looks good on you.”

Chapter 15

Natasha

What a whirlwind ofan evening. I’m not sure I’ve ever had so many competing emotions in such a short amount of time. Embarrassment, pride, love, fear, laughter. So many ups and downs on this roller coaster.

Rvorik, Brann’s dad, hands me Lucy, who is soundly asleep after listening to him read her a book of fairytales. “She is a jewel. Take care of her,” he whispers as he leaves.

By the time Brann has said his farewells, I’ve tucked Lucy into her new bed with the butterfly forest quilt overtop.

“That was quite the introduction to your family,” I say to Brann once I’ve left her nightlight on and returned to the kitchen where he is putting away the clean, dry dishes. He grunts in response, then looks around, perplexed.

“Where’s Lucy?” His furrowed brow of concern for my daughter is adorable. Makes me love him all the more.

“In bed,” I smile, feeling shy, even though he set up the room just for her. He does a double-take at my statement.

“Lucy and I talked about it after the cookies. She said she would like to try sleeping here, like a sleepover. As long as I sleepover, too.” I step a little closer to him and lean against the counter.

Brann sets the dish in his hand down so fast I’m afraid he’s broken it. The plate is fine, but I see that only after I’m in his arms, and as he carries me down the hall to his room, which I haven’t seen yet.

It smells like him. Wood, leather, smoky spices. And a hint of mint. “That’s an enormous bed,” I say, stating the obvious. The space is tidy. Lots of photographs of mountains on the walls. A similar homemade looking quilt adorns his bed. This one in different shades of blues and grays. I run my hand over it after he sets me on it. “I don’t want to assume anything,” I start, “I can sleep on the sofa if that’s—” he shuts me up with a kiss, pushing me back onto the soft pillows at the head.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my mate. You belong here with me.” His voice is gravelly and low, and stirs up all the desire down low in my belly that I packed away for this evening. I didn’t want any scents of mine being commented on by his brothers or father.

“I—I want to be here with you. This still scares me,” I say, petting his scruffy cheek. “It’s a lot. I’ve spent the last five years being extremely independent. Lucy and me against the world. And now you want to treat us both like princesses and spoil us and take care of us, and my poor brain doesn’t know how to process all the want and desire I feel.” I promised myself I would be open and share all my tumultuous feelings with him. I also promised I wouldn’t cry.

So far, I’m breaking the second promise.

His thumb brushes away my tears. “Don’t cry. Fated mates, the myth, describes a bond deeper than physical attraction. Deeper than a marriage bond. It’s a soul bond.” He rests one hand on my heart, bringing my hand to his heart. “You and me. Unwavering commitment. You, me, and Lucy—we are family. If we need to spend a year sleeping in separate houses until you’re comfortable, we will. If I need to sell this place, my motorcycle, my battle axe collection, done. What I will not do is let you second guess yourself or whether or not you deserve love and happiness. Because you do.”

Gods, why does he have to have the perfect body, perfect cock, and the perfect words? It’s a damn trifecta. “Brann, I love you,” The words get tangled on my tongue. I blame the little bit of mead I had. But he doesn’t mind.

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