Page 12 of Claimed By the Mountain Man Orc
Outside, snow begins to fall again—soft, steady, endless.
"I came here hunting monsters," I whisper against his skin. "Turns out, I just needed to find the right one."
He huffs a laugh, low and fond, and I feel it rumble through his chest into mine. "Careful, human. Orcs don't take kindly to flattery."
I grin, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "Too late. You're stuck with me now."
His arms tighten around me, and the last piece of tension I've been carrying since I left drains away. I'm home. Really home.
"Good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Because I'm never letting you go."
Epilogue
Varn
OneYearLater
Weeks pass, and the snow never really leaves the mountain. It only shifts from ridge to ridge, melting just enough in the afternoon sun to trick you into thinking spring might come early, then freezing again overnight.
Mazie says she likes it that way.
She says it makes the world feel clean, like everything gets a fresh start every morning.
She's here more often than not now—splitting her time between her "town life" and the one she's built with me. Every time she returns, she brings something strange and wonderful from the world below: coffee beans that fill the cabin with rich, bitter aroma; books with worn spines and dog-eared pages; a small metal contraption that grinds the beans both into powder she claims is essential for proper brewing.
"This," she told me once, handing me a steaming mug, her eyes bright with missionary zeal, "is civilization."
I don't tell her I prefer the taste of her laugh, the warmth of her smile, the way she hums while she works.
Today she's sitting near the fire with her microphone, recording another episode of her podcast. She’s telling the story of a new tale she’s heard about the guardians of wild places, the keepers of secrets. She doesn't use my name, or my brothers', or even the wordorc, but she’s talking about us.
"Some mysteries," she says into the mic, her voice soft and sure, "aren't meant to be solved. They're meant to be respected. Protected. Loved for what they are, not dissected until all the magic bleeds out."
Her words settle in my chest like an ember, warm and glowing. I set down the carving I've been working on—a small heart of mountain stone with two thumbprints pressed side by side in the center, one large and one small—and cross the room to her.
When she finishes speaking, she looks up and smiles. "Recording done. What do you think?"
I take the microphone from her hand and set it aside carefully. "You speak like a priestess," I murmur, pulling her to her feet.
"Of what?" she teases, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"Of truth," I say, touching my forehead to hers. "Of secrets that should stay secret. Of love."
She rises on her toes, kissing the corner of my mouth, and I taste the coffee she's been drinking—bitter and sweet all at once. "And you're the keeper of all three."
Mazie curls against my chest. "Think Thane and Garruk will ever find their mates?”
"They will," I tell her, certainty in my voice. Now that I know firsthand that Thurok’hai is real, I’m a true believer. "The mountain always sends what's needed."
She tilts her head, studying me with those perceptive brown eyes. "What did you need when the mountain sent me to you?"
I smile, tracing the carved orchid that hangs from her neck, nestled against her throat. "A reason to stop being alone. A reason to believe in more than survival."
She makes a soft sound, something between contentment and emotion. "I love you too, you know. In case the whole ‘not being able to stay away from you for more than a few days at a time’ didn’t make it clear.”
My chest tightens with feeling I still don't have adequate words for. "I know. The bond tells me. But I like hearing it anyway."
The fire crackles, the snow keeps falling, and for the first time in my life, I don't feel like part of a myth or a cautionary tale. I feel real. Grounded. Whole.
She chased monsters into the mountains and found me instead.
Later, when the fire burns low and she's drowsy in my arms, she murmurs, "I need to go down tomorrow. Just for a couple days. I have a meeting with my producer, and I need to pick up more supplies."
I tighten my hold on her, but nod. "I know. The bond will guide you back."
"Always," she promises, pressing a kiss to my chest. "Always back to you."
And I believe her. Because the mountain brought her to me once, and it will bring her back again. Every time.
That's what mates do. They always find their way home.
