Page 8 of Last Shot at Love

“What do you do for a living?” I asked, curiosity burning within me. “And where do you live?”

She took a moment before answering, sitting back up with her loaded plate.

“I live in the Emerald Mountains,” she began, her voice laced with a sense of pride. “I work as a supervisor at our clan’s lumber plantation and ensure we meet our quotas safely, lending a hand wherever it’s needed.” She paused, a hint of nostalgia in her tone. “My family were the first settlers in the area. Over time, as our family grew and others found their fated mates, a small town formed—Emerald Spring. Most of the townsfolk are part of our clan, connected to me in some way.”

As she popped a meatball into her mouth, her expression transformed. Her eyes rolled back slightly, and a soft moan escaped her lips, one she muffled as she covered her mouth. The sound sent a thrill through me, awakening a desire to hear that moan again under different circumstances. She chewed for a moment before lowering her hand, reaching for the second meatball.

“These are good,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of surprise.

Pride surged through me, a warm tide that swelled with her praise. “I made everything here, minus the drinks,” I confessed with a grin, watching her reaction closely as I basked in the glow of her approval.

Her response was immediate and sincere. “You have talent. This is the best I’ve ever had.”

The pride I felt was more than just a chef’s satisfaction at pleasing a guest; it was the joy of pleasing my fated mate, filling me with a sense of accomplishment. To provide her with such joy through my cooking—it was a victory sweeter than any dish I could create.

“Thank you,” I said, my gratitude genuine.

Her gaze turned inquisitive. “And what about you? What do you do for a living, and where do you live?”

“I was a private chef until recently,” I began, the memory of the kitchen I had commanded lingering in my mind. “The exact day I got my matched message, I was let go. The CEO I worked for, her new husband decided they didn’t need my services anymore.” As I confessed the recent turn in my life, my pride took a hit, and I found my ears tipping back, a clear sign of my distress. “Now, I’m unemployed...”

Grishka’s reaction was immediate and comforting. She reached across the space between us, her strong hand enveloping my paw. “Then it’s their loss,” she said firmly, her conviction undeniable. “Because these are the best meatballs I’ve ever had.” Her gaze was steady, encouraging. “You should consider working at the local restaurant, or maybe even opening your own.”

But then she gasped, her eyes widening as she realized what her words implied. “I’m sorry,” she rushed out, “I didn’t mean to assume that you’d move to Emerald Mountains and start a life there... with me,” she stammered, the blush on her emerald cheeks visible even in the moonlight.

But I couldn’t let her fret over a future I already found myself longing for. I leaned in, driven by pure instinct, and silenced her worries with a kiss.

Her lips tasted of mint, crisp and inviting, as refreshing as a cool breeze on a hot day. She smelled divine; her scent was intoxicating, one that reminded me of morning dew on a field of wildflowers.

It was an aroma that made me want to rub myself all over her, marking her as my own, surrounding myself with her scent.

Grishka’s response was immediate and fiery. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer with an urgency that set my blood aflame. Our kiss deepened, becoming a dance of passion and longing.

Our tongues met, exploring each other with a fervor that mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling within us, that sent sparks of desire coursing through me. The softness of her lips contrasted with the fierce grip she had on my hair, making me want to give into all her needs, her demands.

Every brush of her lips, every caress, ignited a fire that threatened to consume me. The taste of her, the feel of her, it was all-consuming, a storm of desire and need that I had never experienced before.

Her grip on my hair tightened, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that only heightened the intensity of our kiss. I could feel her heart beating against mine, overwhelming my senses.

This wasn’t just a kiss; it was a claiming, a mutual surrender to the bond that had been forged between our souls.

And as we finally broke apart, panting and flushed from our heated exchange, I knew that this was just the beginning, and there was no going back.

I was utterly hers—and I was willing to go to any length to be with her... to maintain the sense of completion she’d given me, knowing it would become stronger with time.

The intensity of my desire for Kael was overwhelming. His culinary creations had been nothing short of divine, but it was his presence, the soft silkiness of his fur, that I yearned to feel against my skin.

I wanted him with an urgency that was almost primal, yet I knew I had to temper my instincts. I wasn’t some impulsive teenager, even if the bond between us was tugging at my self-restraint, urging me to give in to the hunger to touch and be touched.

Breathlessly, I pulled away, my apology tumbling out in a rush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”

Kael’s purr was a low vibration that seemed to echo through me. His eyes, a dark shade of green, were filled with a heat that mirrored my own. “You can carry me away anytime you want,” he said, his voice deep and reassuring.

“Is it okay that I may be stronger than you?” I asked, wondering if my orcish strength would be a barrier between us.

“It’s a turn-on. I’d love to be carried by you,” he confessed. His response was immediate, his voice laced with a desire that sent a shiver down my spine. “Imagine me, your private chef, making you special lunch boxes with love notes for work, and you carrying me over your shoulder when you return, demanding me to service you.”

I choked on a cracker, caught off guard by his forwardness. “Service me?” I echoed, a part of me thrilled at the idea of such a bold mate.

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