Page 89 of Her Orc Protector

The water cascaded over us, steam fogging the air, the sound of our breathing harsh and ragged above the steady patter of droplets. I closed my eyes, losing myself in sensation—the slide of him inside me, the press of his chest against my back, the tension building between us with every thrust.

I reached back with one hand, tangling my fingers in his hair, needing some connection, some reminder that it was him—us—not just bodies seeking release in the dark. He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest into my back, and quickened his pace.

The claiming mark on my collarbone stayed quiet. No pulse. No glow. No magic. Just flesh and pleasure. Just me and him. And that silent space between.

"Uldrek," I gasped, feeling the edge approaching. "I'm close—"

He growled, his movements becoming harder, deeper, more desperate. His fingers circled my clit with renewed purpose, dragging me toward climax with relentless skill.

“Come for me,” he growled, voice thick with need. “Let me feel it.”

The command tipped me over. I cried out, my body tightening around him as pleasure crashed through me in waves. Hecursed, hips stuttering as my inner walls clenched and pulsed, drawing him deeper, demanding his release.

He drove into me a few more times, hard and fast, then groaned my name as he came—his cock pulsing deep inside me, each wave drawing a soft gasp from my lips. His forehead pressed against my shoulder, breath hot on my wet skin as we both trembled through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, we just stood there, connected, catching our breath as the water continued to fall around us. He held me close, arms firm around my waist. But when I tried to turn—to meet his eyes—he eased back, slipping out of me with a gentleness that only made the distance sharper.

"Water's getting cold," he murmured, reaching for the lever to shut it off.

I turned then, watching his face in the moonlight. He looked... tired. Satisfied, yes—his body relaxed in the way only release can bring. But his eyes still wouldn't quite meet mine.

He handed me a drying cloth, taking one for himself. We dried in silence, the heat of our bodies fading into the cool night. When he leaned in to kiss my forehead—a gentle, almost chaste gesture—I closed my eyes, wishing I could read his mind. Wishing I knew what had happened, what had changed.

We dressed, gathered our things, and headed inside. The cottage was dark and quiet, save for the small lantern burning low in the main room. Hobbie was curled in her basket beside Ellie's cradle, both of them deep in slumber.

"She looks peaceful," Uldrek whispered, gazing down at Ellie's sleeping form. His expression softened, the mask he'd worn all evening slipping just enough for me to see the tenderness beneath.

I nodded, throat tight. "She is."

We moved to the bedroom, stripping out of our damp clothes and into dry nightclothes. The bed—our bed—welcomed us withfamiliar comfort. Uldrek settled on his side, arm extended in silent invitation. I curled against him, my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

His fingers traced slow patterns on my arm, feather-light and familiar. Of something that might have been love, if I dared to name it.

"Goodnight, Issy," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Goodnight," I whispered back, waiting for more—for the explanation, the confession, whatever it was that had kept him distant all evening.

It didn't come. His breathing deepened, body relaxing as sleep claimed him quickly, the day's events and our exertion taking their toll. But I lay awake, watching shadows play across the ceiling, listening to the quiet of our home.

My hand drifted to the claiming mark, fingers tracing its outline. Still there. Still binding us. But changed, somehow. Quieter. Waiting.

Chapter 25

The evening air held the first hint of winter’s edge as I walked home from the Archives. Not cold enough for a cloak, but enough that I pulled my shawl closer around my shoulders. The streets of Everwood had begun their evening settling—shop doors closing, lamplighters making their rounds, the occasional burst of laughter from an open window.

I walked alone, my steps unhurried. I’d spent the day reorganizing old expedition journals—steady work that let my mind settle after the hearing. Hobbie had collected Ellie at midday, muttering something about “infant brain development requiring sunlight.” Probably another of her improvised theories—but I was grateful.

A cart rattled past, the driver nodding politely. I returned the gesture automatically, then paused. Just a few months ago, I would have tensed at the sound of approaching wheels. Would have stepped into shadow, watching for threats, calculating escape routes.

Now, I just nodded and kept walking.

The Council hearing still sat heavy in my body—the confrontation with Gavriel, the weight of speaking the truth in a room full of strangers. But it was done. And for the first time, I felt myself believing not just in safety but in stability. In the possibility of years unfolding here, in this place. In this life that was becoming mine.

I rounded the corner onto my street and stopped.

Uldrek sat on our porch steps, the last golden hour light catching on his shoulders. His head was bent in concentration, a whetstone moving steadily across a dagger blade. The familiar rhythmic scrape carried clearly in the quiet.

The sight of him hit me with unexpected force—the broad line of his back, the careful precision of his hands, the way he occupied space so solidly. After the strange distance between us following the hearing, seeing him there made something in me soften with relief.

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