Page 75 of Pursued By the Orc
She shook her head, pressing her face harder against my chest. “I can’t believe him.”
I held her close, careful but firm, my arms wrapping around her like I could shield her from everything—the lies, the loss, the betrayal. Her shoulders shook against my chest, her face pressed into me, and I could feel every trembling breath like it was my own.
“It’s alright,” I rumbled softly, voice low, meant just for her. “We’ll fix this. I promise. No forged piece of paper’s going to take what’s yours.”
She didn’t answer—just cried harder. Her tears soaked through my shirt, hot against my skin. I didn’t care. I just kept holding her, letting her grief melt into my heartbeat.
Then—suddenly—she stilled.
I froze too, sensing the shift instantly. Her breathing changed. The trembling stopped. And when she finally looked up at me, her eyes weren’t sad anymore—they werefurious.
Uh-oh.
Her voice came out tight, dangerous. “You knew, didn’t you?”
I blinked. “What?”
Her tear-streaked face was a mix of heartbreak and fire. “You knew something was off with him! You said it! And you didn’t tell me!”
My lips parted slightly. “I—what? No! I said I didn’ttrusthim, not that Iknew—”
She jabbed a finger at my chest, eyes blazing. “Same thing!”
I leaned back a little, trying to calm her, hands raised. “It’s… not, actually. One’s suspicion, the other’s proof.”
“Oh my Gods, don’t go alllegal semanticson me right now!” she snapped, tears sparkling like battle fire.
Savla—who’d come in at some point while my mate had been sobbing—was across the room, pretendingvery badlyto reorganize some papers, smirking into his sleeve. I shot him a glare that saidnot now.
“I was trying to protect you,” I said carefully, lowering my voice, trying to reach the softer space beneath her anger. “I didn’t want to make you worry until I knew for sure.”
She folded her arms. “Congratulations. You succeeded. I wasn’t worried—I wasdevastated.”
I winced. “That… sounds worse when you say it out loud.”
“Itisworse!”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m new to this whole ‘emotional communication during high-stress probate crises’ thing.”
Her mouth twitched—just barely. The corner of her lip wanted to smile, but she fought it. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now,” I muttered, moving closer again, softer this time. “Look, I might’ve handled it wrong. I probably did. But I swear, I’ll handlehimright.”
Her brows arched. “That sounds vaguely threatening.”
“Good,” I said, flashing a fangy grin. “It’s supposed to.”
That earned me the tiniest laugh—half sigh, half surrender. She shook her head, eyes still wet but softer now. “You’re impossible.”
“Protectively impossible,” I corrected, pulling her gently back into my arms.
She let out a small, exasperated huff, but this time she didn’t pull away. “You’re lucky you’re cute for someone who can be so annoying.”
I rumbled low in my chest, amusement curling through my voice. “You think I’m cute?”
“I saidfor someone who can be so annoying.”
“Still counts,” I murmured, pressing my chin lightly against her hair. “And for the record, I’d rather have you mad at me than broken. Anger, I can handle.”
