Page 7 of Saved By the Mountain Man Orc
Something I don't have words for.
Yet.
Chapter 4
Drak
Ishouldn'thavetouchedher.
Even just that strand of hair. Even for just a moment.
Because now I can't stop thinking about how soft her skin felt beneath my fingertips. How close her mouth was to mine. How she looked up at me like she was deciding between running away and stepping closer.
I have to get out of here.
I go outside to clear my head. The night air is sharp with the promise of frost, biting through my shirt and raising goosebumps along my arms. Usually, the cold helps ground me, reminds me of who I am and what I can't have.
But tonight, it just makes me think about how warm she felt in my arms when I carried her home.
I grab the axe from its post beside the woodshed and attack the pile of logs I've been meaning to split. The repetitive motion helps.Thunk, lift,thunk, breathe. The bite of the axe bladethrough seasoned oak, the satisfying crack as each piece falls away from the whole.
I tell myself I can control this. I've done it before when the scent of human settlements drifted up the mountain on certain winds. I know how to ignore instincts, how to bury needs so deep they can't claw their way back to the surface.
But I've never brought a human to my home before.
Never let one see my scars, my tusks, the careful way I've built a life in the spaces between worlds.
Never wanted one to stay.
Until Jasmine.
Even her name makes something tighten in my chest. The way it sounds when I say it aloud, the way it fits in my mouth like it belongs there.
She's already affecting me in ways that have nothing to do with scent or instinct.I can feel it.Beneath my skin, behind my ribs, in the space where my heart used to beat for no one but myself.
This is what the elders spoke of around winter fires when I was barely old enough to understand. The bond that comes without warning, that changes everything in a single moment.
The orc word isThurok'hai—literally "fire-waker." The one who wakes the fire that's been sleeping in your blood.
She woke mine.
And now I'm fighting every second not to go back inside and claim what my body insists is already mine.
The moon climbs higher, casting silver light across the clearing I carved from wilderness. I split wood until my shoulders burn and sweat dampens my shirt. I yank it over my head and toss it to the ground, enjoying the feeling of the cool air on my skin. The physical exhaustion helps quiet the roar in my head, but it can't touch the deeper ache.
The sound of the cabin door opening makes me freeze mid-swing.
She's come outside.
I turn slowly, axe still gripped in my hands. She's wrapped in the fur blanket I gave her, standing near the doorway with one hand braced against the frame. In the moonlight, she looks ethereal, like something from the old stories the elders used to tell.
Too beautiful for a creature like me to touch.
Too perfect to keep.
"You're not supposed to be walking," I say, voice rougher than I intended.
She lifts her chin in that stubborn gesture I'm already learning to recognize. "I do what I want."
