Page 30 of Her Orc Protector

Something flickered in his expression—a momentary vulnerability quickly masked. He nodded once, then reached for the laces of my tunic, his fingers careful but sure. I held still, allowing him to loosen them, to expose a little more of my shoulder and neck. His knuckles brushed against my collarbone, a whisper of contact that sent another shiver through me.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he said, his voice rougher now, deeper.

"I will."

He leaned forward, one hand cradling the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. The other rested lightly on my waist, steadying me. I could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of him so close, and my breath caught in anticipation.

But he didn't bite. Not yet. Instead, he pressed his lips to my neck, just below my ear—a soft, unexpectedly tender contact that made my eyes flutter closed. A momentary gentleness before the pain to come.

I gasped softly, my hands instinctively reaching for him, clutching at the front of his shirt. I felt the rumble of his response more than heard it—a low, approving sound that vibrated through his chest and into mine, settling low in my belly.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice barely a thread of sound against my skin.

I nodded, but it wasn’t enough. I had to say it again. “Yes,” I breathed. “I want this.”

He shifted—a minute adjustment, but I felt the moment change, the balance tip from holding to release.

And then he sank his teeth into me.

There was no warning. No pause. Just that rush of sensation—sharp, burning, immediate. A twin sting of pain and something else, something older, deeper. It stole the breath from my lungs.

I cried out, not from fear, but from shock—raw, startled—clutching his shirt harder, needing something solid to hold on to. I could feel the edges of my awareness blurring, the pain stretching into something that didn’t quite have a name. Fire, maybe. Or light. Or memory. My shoulder throbbed where his teeth broke skin, not viciously, but fully—his grip anchored me as the bond ignited.

Because that’s what it was. Not just blood and pressure, not just the mark of his teeth, but something bigger, older. Magic. Connection. A thread winding back on itself, stitching something closed that I hadn’t realized was torn.

Uldrek’s arms were around me now, one braced behind my back, the other wrapped low under my ribs, holding me with careful strength. He didn’t let go. Not even when the energy between us surged, thick and living, wrapping around my breath.

It wasn’t a blast of light. Nothing dramatic. Just presence. The weight of something that had always been possible solidifying into something real.

I felt it settle. Tangible. Permanent.

The bite itself eased, his mouth pulling back, lips brushing the skin now slick with blood and saliva. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move far. He lowered his forehead to my shoulder, resting there with a low, shuddering breath. His hands didn’t drop away—he still held me, one large palm at the small of my back, the otherbraced carefully at my hip, as if releasing me too soon might break something.

Neither of us moved for a while.

The pain still lingered beneath my skin—not excruciating, but sharp and real and unmistakably alive. I could feel the puncture of his teeth, the throb just under the surface. But the ache didn’t feel intrusive. It felt anchoring. As if it had carved out space for something I hadn’t known my body could hold.

My breath came in shallow draws. I wasn’t crying, but I could have. Not from pain. From the weight of it. The truth of what we’d done.

I laid one hand against his back, fingers brushing the thick fabric of his shirt where it stretched across muscle and heat. He didn’t speak. He just held me tighter.

“I felt it,” I whispered after a while, unsure if I was talking to him or myself. “The bond.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” he murmured into my shoulder. “Considering I nearly passed out with how hard it hit.”

I huffed out a laugh, then winced as the movement tugged the fresh wound.

Without lifting his head, he spoke again. “Still hurts?”

I nodded. “But not in a way that scares me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, searching my expression for the things I hadn’t said yet. Those same watchful eyes. But softer now. Warmer.

“How bad is it?” I asked. “The mark.”

His eyes dropped to the curve of my neck and shoulder, his fingers following. “Red,” he said quietly. “The bite’s clean. Deep enough. You’ll feel it for a few days.”

“I don’t want to hide it,” I said, surprised at how certain I felt.

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