Page 9 of Her Orc Protector

An orc stood there, massive and still. He'd been at the blacksmith's stall earlier—I remembered glimpsing him through the crowd, noting how other patrons gave him space. Now, his golden eyes swept over the scene with dangerous calm before landing on me. He looked straight at me. Then Ellie. His hand moved to his sword—but he didn’t draw it. Not yet.

That's when it clicked.

Natural law. That's what Edwin had been reading about yesterday—ancient rules older than paper and seals. The kind that recognized blood and bone and wildness. The kind that made even the Order pause.

Mating bonds superseded foreign contracts. Everyone knew that. Even Gavriel's pet bureaucrats couldn't argue with magic that predated their precious councils.

The words rose from somewhere deeper than thought. "You can't take me," I said. "He won't let you."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

I gestured to the orc. "My mate."

The silence that followed felt like glass about to break.

The man blinked. I could see him calculating—weighing the cost of challenging such a claim. But then the orc stepped forward and slung one arm around my shoulders, warm and solid as stone.

"Problem?" he asked, voice low and rough like gravel.

The tracker's face went slack. He looked between us, then at the arm draped possessively across my shoulders, then at the sword still resting easy at the orc's hip.

"You'd be wise," the orc continued, his voice deceptively casual, "to remove your hand from my mate's arm."

The tracker's fingers uncurled from my sleeve. He took a step back, straightening his robes with affected dignity. "This... arrangement will need to be verified. Through proper channels."

"By all means," the orc replied. His arm stayed steady around my shoulders, thumb brushing once against my collar in a gesture that looked instinctive to any observer. "File your papers. Make your inquiries. But touch her again, and we'll have a different conversation entirely."

The threat in his voice was subtle but unmistakable. The tracker's face paled slightly.

"The Order will hear about this," he muttered, but he was already backing away. "Mr. Duskryn will want to review the situation personally."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy the paperwork," the orc said dryly.

The tracker disappeared into the thinning crowd, his dark robes melting into shadow between merchant stalls. Only when he was completely gone did the orc's arm slip from my shoulders.

"So," he said, turning to face me. His golden eyes were unreadable in the lamplight. "My lovely mate..."

He paused, and I could feel the weight of the question before he asked it.

"Want to tell me what that was about?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Because for the first time in months, I didn’t know what the safest lie was.

Chapter 4

The walk back to Tinderpost House felt ten times longer than the journey to the market. Leilan kept glancing between me and the orc, her steps quick and light as if she might need to run. She'd recovered faster than I had, gathering our purchases while I stood frozen in the aftermath of my own lie.

"You never mentioned a mate," she said finally, breaking the silence that had stretched between us for three blocks.

I shifted Ellie higher against my chest. "I never mentioned a lot of things."

The orc—my supposed mate—walked a half-step behind us. Close enough to hear, far enough to give us space. I could feel his presence like heat at my back.

I'd expected him to be angry. To demand answers immediately, perhaps even threaten to expose my lie. Instead, he'd simply fallen into step with us, carrying Leilan's basket without being asked, his face unreadable in the fading light.

"Does he have a name?" Leilan whispered.

"Uldrek," the orc answered before I could admit I didn’t know it. His voice was a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the air between us. "Uldrek Wolfsbane."

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