Page 32 of Her Orc Blacksmith

The door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, and we stepped into the familiar warmth of home. I led Vorgath up the narrow stairs to Elias’s small bedroom. When we reached the door, I moved aside, letting Vorgath enter first. He carefully entered, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his head on the low beam.

Gently, Vorgath lowered Elias onto the bed, cradling his little body until it hit the pillow with a soft thump. Elias barely stirred, his face relaxed in the deep, heavy sleep of a child who’d played hard and learned much. Vorgath tugged the blanket up to Elias’s chin and then stood there for a moment, staring down at my son as if committing the scene to memory. A soft smile tugged at his lips—barely noticeable, but I caught it.

Then, without a word, Vorgath stepped back, straightening as he turned toward me. I caught his eye over the bed and gestured toward the door.

I followed him out, and once again, we found ourselves standing in the quiet warmth of the entryway, where we both paused uncertainly. Vorgath turned, looking back at me. A warmth sat behind his eyes, but other than that, his face remained unreadable. I licked my lips—nervous? Definitely. But there was something else. Something that made the room seem smaller, the space between us almost tangible in its weight.

He turned his gaze toward the door, a subtle shifting of his weight that suggested he meant to leave. “I should go.”

“Right,” I whispered, my voice sounding far too small for the moment.

Neither of us moved.

Yet, I could feel the pull—an invisible thread binding us, drawing me nearer, daring me to close the distance.

And then, before I could stop myself—before the rational, careful part of me could scream her usual protest—I stepped forward.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I pushed up on my toes, my lips pressing against his with a fierce, almost reckless urgency. The kiss was scorching—as if all the tension, the unspoken words, the stolen glances—had suddenly found their release. His lips were warm, surprisingly soft beneath his beard, and the taste of steel and smoke clung to his mouth, foreign but intoxicating. I hadn’t kissed anyone in so long, and this… this wasn’t like anything I’d known before.

His tusks brushed against my cheeks, strange yet thrilling, scraping ever-so-slightly against my skin. I heard a low rumble in his throat, a sound that seemed to ripple through me, igniting something primal and dangerous. His hands—those enormous hands that had once seemed so intimidating—found my waist, pulling me closer, and the rest of the world dropped away.

He held me like I was something precious. Like I was desired.

And Seven save me, it felt like nothing else mattered in that moment. Like I was exactly where I needed to be, in the consuming heat ofhim.

My hands tangled in the fabric of his tunic, the strength of his chest solid beneath my fingers, the rough texture of his muscles hard and unyielding under the press of my palm. I could barely reach his collarbone, but it didn’t matter. I rose onto my toes more, needing to bury myself in the kiss, to lose myself in the way the world seemed to tilt and spin around us.

Had I ever felt like this? With Kald, it had been simple and soft, familiar. But this? The rawness of it soared through my veins, making me feel out of control in the very best of ways.

His size overwhelmed everything—his muscles, his presence, the sheer strength of his arms. Every inch of him dwarfed me, and the warmth that radiated from his body seeped into me, pulling me further into the moment, intohim. My fingers clawed for purchase, sliding up the brawny slope of his arm until they hooked onto the tight muscles of his shoulder. It had the texture of leather, hard and unyielding, yet under it all, I could sense the latent gentleness lurking just below the surface.

His kiss grew fiercer, matching the intensity running wild between us. A growl rumbled low in his throat, vibrating through my entire body as his hands tightened. I inched closer, the feel of his large form pressing all around me. I couldn’t think. I could onlyfeel. Every stroke of his lips against mine, every squeeze of his hands, every blazing moment seemed to unravel something knotted deep inside me.

I wanted more.

Needed more.

But with every second that passed, reality came creeping in.

What am I doing? This is too fast. Elias is in the next room...The thoughts clawed to the surface, piercing the haze of desire. Fear and doubt slammed back into place like a tidal wave.What about my life?What about our careful, balanced existence? Elias. The forge. What would happen if I let this continue? We’d get used to having him around—complacent, comfortable—and then... what would happen if I lost him, too?

Suddenly, the intoxicating heat became too much.

Gasping for air, I ripped my lips from his, stumbling back a few steps as I pressed a hand to my mouth. My lungs burned, struggling to catch up with the sudden rush of oxygen that filled the space where our kiss had been.

“What—?” Vorgath’s eyes, wide and wild, stared at me, and I saw the concern there—the softened edges of his otherwise stoic features, warring between want and confusion.

“I—I can’t,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. My hands fumbled against my own skin, arms folding protectively around myself.

Vorgath’s brow furrowed, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. He was still standing where I’d left him, his arms slowly dropping back to his sides. “Soraya,” he began, his voice tinged with a tenderness I wasn’t sure I deserved in that moment. “If I—”

“It’s not you,” I interrupted in a frantic rush. “It’s just… it’s everything. It’s Elias. It’s—” I swallowed hard, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. “My life is complicated. You deserve something… easier.”

Vorgath’s lips pressed into a thin line, his face an unreadable mask again. But he didn’t argue. He didn’t push.

We stood in the heavy silence of my tiny living room for a long moment, the weight of what had just happened looming between us. My heart still raced, my body still humming with the remnants of the kiss, but my mind… my mind was warning me—no,shoutingat me.

I had a son to think about. I had lived through the pain of loss, and the thought of opening my heart—tohim, to anyone—terrified me in ways I couldn’t quite put into words. I couldn’t take that step. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

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