CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT（Untitled）Grace

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Grace

The rumble of multiple deep voices penetrates my dream and pulls me toward consciousness. Shit. Stanley's parked the employee trailers way too close together again if I can hear the guys from the next one over. I groan and roll onto my side, pulling a pillow over my head and tugging the blanket up to cover my shoulder. My fingers touch fur.

Fur? My eyes snap open, but I can't see anything but light-green fabric.

Before I can move it, the pillow slides from my head, and Branikk's deep voice says, "I'd almost forgotten how enamored you are of pillows."

Everything comes rushing back to me like one of those "previously on" things that start TV shows, only my highlight reel is all him: meeting Branikk and throwing pillows at him, thinking he was an actor on a reality TV show, seeing how green he was everywhere , riding the Ferris wheel together, our first time in the wisteria grove, the picnic by the lake…

His face over and over, transforming from movie-star handsome to something far more real and special as I got to know him and fell in love.

One final image pops up of him against the backdrop of a Whirling Swings ride.

"The sluagh!" I jolt upright, my hands sliding across his chest and shoulders. "Did we—? Are you—?"

"I'm fine." He captures one of my hands and pulls it up to press a kiss to the palm, his eyes dark and serious and so full of emotion it takes my breath away. His voice is a hoarse husk. "Everything's fine now."

"Drake? The puppies?"

"You saved everyone with your ride. It kept the sluagh from any further attacks."

"Oh, good." I sigh and sag with relief, finally noticing the golden wooden walls and ceiling, a window with shutters thrown open to let sunlight pour in. I'm in a bed, a real bed, not furs on a floor. "Where are we?"

"This is our cottage. This is our bedroom."

"And this is your friendly local herbalist." A female orc bustles into the room, a leather satchel slung over her shoulder. "Hello, I'm Gerna."

She has the long black hair, dark eyes, and green skin I'm already used to. Her brown leather pants and boots are familiar, but her linen tunic's got an extra touch of pretty, embroidered with green leaves around the neck and hem. But what really surprises me is she's about as tall and muscular as any of the men.

Is this why Branikk found me attractive, because I'm actually built the way he thinks women should be built? Instead of upsetting me, the thought makes his affection feel more real, more possible . It's actually comforting to think there's finally a place where I fit in.

More people crowd the doorway, two human women standing in the front, with several orcs behind them. While Gerna pulls out numerous little bottles filled with various-colored liquids, the other women approach. They both have tan skin and brown hair, but that's pretty much it for similarities.

The shorter one is tiny and bristles with energy. Beaming at me, she trots over and gives me an enthusiastic hug, words pouring from her in a rush. "Hi! I'm Taylor. I'm the other one who got whammied with the deathsleep, but Gerna fixed me right up just like she did you. I'm also married to Krivoth, Branikk's best friend, so we're automatically besties now, too."

A startled laugh escapes me. "I don't think that's how that works."

"Oh, it's how it's going to work, all right." A male orc walks over from the doorway. Handsome, if a little frowny, he stops and puts a hand on each of Taylor and Branikk's shoulders. This must be Krivoth. "My moon bound won't accept anything less, and she's very determined."

She throws him an affectionate look and waves over the other woman.

Taller and with longer brown hair and a more hour-glass figure, she's got a pretty smile, and her hug is warm. "I'm Olivia. I hear you can also conjure."

"She's the one who got the food magic," Taylor says. "It's awesome!"

Olivia laughs. "I am ‘Pizza.'" She makes air quotes.

"I met pixies who talked about you," I say. "They were disappointed I couldn't make pizza, so I made them a Ferris wheel instead."

"A Ferris wheel!" Taylor's eyes gleam like a little kid given a pile of birthday presents. "You have got to tell us that story!"

"And she will… later," Gerna says, shooing everyone but Branikk back and handing me a potion to drink. "What does this taste like?"

Magic fizzes across my tongue, along with a fruity flavor. "Strawberries."

She nods and records something in a little journal.

Two orcs shove through the crowd at the door, an older man and woman, who cries out, "Branikk! Introduce us right this instant!"

She's beautiful, with high cheekbones and lovely eyes, which look so much like Branikk's I know who she is even before he says, "This is my mother, Kora, and my father, Bronn."

His father is pleasantly handsome, with silver salting the hair at his temples. What really strikes me is the feeling of calm steadiness he exudes.

"Mother, Father, this is Grace, the moon bound bride the goddess blessed me with." Branikk's voice is filled with so much pride that my heart leaps to hear it. These are his parents, some of the most important people in his life, and here he is, clearly proud I'm his wife.

Tears prickle the backs of my eyes. I'm not a crier, but damned if I know what to do with this feeling, all these emotions making me feel like I might burst.

"Now don't you dare call us by our names." His mother comes over to embrace me. "You're our new daughter, and you'll call us Mother and Father." She pulls back to look me in the eyes, her hands firm on my shoulders. "Yes?"

Not trusting my voice, I can only nod. She's already hugged me more in the first minute of meeting me than my own mother has in years.

"Kora, let the girl call us what she wants," Bronn says, before giving me a quick hug. It's like hugging a mountain, something big and solid and eternal.

"What is this?" I ask when he pulls away. "Why do you feel…?" My hand grabs at the air, like it's trying to catch the right word.

"Father's the best woodworker in the village. He's the one who shapes the heart trees into cottages." Branikk waves his hand to take in the room all around us, and I realize it's not wood paneling—everything's one continuous piece of wood. "You're feeling his connection to the trees."

Branikk shows a bit of this same feeling in his quieter moments, like when we rode the Ferris wheel together. This solidity underneath his charming exterior is one of the things I most love about him.

Gerna offers me another potion to taste, nodding when I give my answer. Branikk stays right beside me, his big hand clasping mine. After a couple more tests, she snaps her journal closed and shoves everything back into her satchel. "You're fine!"

Branikk pulls me to him, his mouth taking mine in a searing kiss. A niggle of embarrassment goes through me that others can see us—and god, even his parents are here—but I kiss him back, meeting his intensity with my own. He feels so good, so alive, and so do I. A kind of giddy relief washes over me, as if his kiss burns away the last of the deathsleep fog.

Then a growl sounds, and my stomach gives a pang of protest.

Branikk pulls back, his eyes going from heated to worried. "My bride?"

"I guess I'm hungry."

"You should be after three days," Gerna says.

"Three days!"

"It's time for you to eat something, and unless you want to tell your story twenty times, there's only one place to go," she says. "The pub."

"The pub!" everyone echoes.

Branikk grins at me, his whole expression light and playful like the first time we met. It takes my breath away all over again. "I can't wait to introduce you to everyone in the village!"

And there it is again. That pride in me that makes my heart swell. God, I love him so much!

Someone bathed me and dressed me in clean clothes, so I woke in a pretty, pink tunic top and dark-green pants made of linen. My hair's down, but my scrunchie sits on the bedside table, so I weave it up into a messy bun. Branikk slips my pink work boots onto my feet, then scoops me up into his arms.

"I can walk!"

"Not until you've eaten," he growls. But the way his hold tightens, it feels more like he can't stand to let me go than anything else.

Old me would have hated this and been uncomfortable being carried in front of other people. New me says I'm one lucky woman to have someone who cares enough about me to do this.

Branikk strides out of the bedroom and into a combination living room and kitchen. Everything's made out of light-golden wood with the furniture and kitchen cabinets formed out of the floor and walls instead of something added. Big burgundy cushions cover two overstuffed sofas, which frame a fireplace, and there's a long rectangular dining table with lots of chairs. But what really catches my eye are the shelves that dot the room, each covered with little pretzels of wooden rods twisted into sculptures.

"Did you make those?" I point.

Branikk nods. "Sometimes, when I try to make an arrow, the wood tells me it wants to be something else. So I help it to become that. They're not really good for anything. We don't have to keep them if you don't like them."

"I love them. They're cute and whimsical. They make me want to pick them up so I can feel all their twists and turns." I touch the bracelet he made me. "You're the one who taught me things that bring joy are just as important as something more practical."

"Come on, you two!" Krivoth says.

Everyone bustles us out the door, and I gasp.

A huge tree stands in front of us, even bigger around than a redwood. But it's short for its size, maybe fifty feet tall. Windows and a door decorate the wide curving trunk, branches not appearing until twenty feet up. They spread wide, each covered in large, heart-shaped leaves in deep green that shade the mossy ground underfoot.

"When you said the cottages were built into trees…"

"I meant it," he says with a laugh. "I'll never lie to you, my bride."

Oh, there I go, again. Emotions all over the damned place! Safe in his arms, I let myself really feel them. There's relief and wonder and a thread of lingering anger at the people who lied to me in the past, like Calvin. But now that I've admitted it, it's like I untied a knot inside me. The anger eases a little, letting me fully feel the good things, and with Branikk, it's all good feelings. I whisper, "You don't know how much that means to me."

Taylor chatters away as we walk along, pointing out which tree belongs to which person or family. We round another of the wide, curving trunks, and a sun-bathed space opens up. Moss covers the ground here, too, and more of the heart trees surround it in a ring. "This is the village green, and all the trees here are the different businesses of the village."

"But this is the most important one. The pub." With a laugh, Branikk carries me into a large wooden room filled with tables and chairs. A long bar runs across the back, and there's a massive stone fireplace set into one of the wooden walls. There are already a few orcs scattered across the room, and they call out greetings.

"This is way bigger on the inside than should be possible," I say. "The heart trees are big, but not this big."

"You know what I'm going to say." Branikk grins as he settles me onto a chair. "Magic. Specifically, my father's magic."

Everyone sits around us, and Branikk fetches ale from the bar and orders food, bringing back a basket of hot rolls and a pot of butter.

I fall on the food, the whole-grain bread hearty and rich, the butter sweet and a little grassy and delicious.

Olivia asks me if there's anything I'd like and makes me a Coke, the bottle so cold, condensation starts to form on the glass. The first swallow bubbles across my tongue in an explosion of sugar, and I moan.

Branikk swipes my drink to take a sip and pronounces it, "Better than coffee."

I take it back and sip again. "So much better."

When everyone asks, Olivia makes more Cokes and passes them around for people to try. The orcs nod at me, raising the bottles in a toast.

"Now, about that Ferris wheel," Taylor says.

"No, we start at the beginning." Branikk sits back in his chair, his body language changing, immediately capturing everyone's attention. And here it is, that magnetic part of him that made me first think he was an actor. "The very first time I met my bride, she threw pillows at me!"

Yells fill the room. "No!" "Yes!" "Why?"

"I'd just played one of those pillow-toss games at the carnival I worked at, and my magic seems to want to make carnival things." I shrug, not admitting that my magic also likes to make sexy things. Then I hook a thumb toward my husband. "But this guy, he thought it meant something totally different."

"I thought it was a human mating ritual!"

The whole room breaks into laughter.

"Oh, my god!" Taylor leans forward, eyes bright with interest. "What did you do?"

"Well…" I catch Branikk's approving gaze, and he gives me a little nod.

Warmth fills me. I've never been accepted like this, never felt like one of the gang before. I feel like I lived my whole life on Earth as the wallflower outcast, always watching from the outside as others lived their lives.

But not anymore. Not here with these wonderful, welcoming people. Not here with Branikk.

We take turns telling everyone the story of our adventures.

And with each admiring word and approving glance from him, I start to hope it's our story.

The story of how we fell in love.

We eat a long meal that ends up being a combination of lunch and dinner. What's the equivalent of brunch using those two words instead? Dunch? Linner? No matter what you call it, it's yummy, finished off with cinnamon-roll dessert pizza, which is so good, the local pixies wake early and fly through the open windows to demand the "new sweet pizza."

Everyone sips their drinks and chats. It's funny in a way. For all I love watching things like Bridgerton , I never imagined how authentic it would feel to just sit and talk with other people without the distraction of phones or TV. Maybe it's the real reason I can't seem to make a phone battery.

Sturrm, an older orc who seems to permanently scowl, surprises the hell out of me when he pulls out an old-timey acoustic guitar and sings several songs in a lovely rich baritone. He finishes with a haunting love ballad, and everyone in the pub goes quiet. Love and yearning throb in his voice, yanking on my heartstrings, and I lean into Branikk as everyone's eyes go a little misty.

When he finishes, I whisper to Taylor, "How the hell is that guy still single?"

"I know, right? Total panty dropper." She shakes her head. "There's rumor of some kinda lost love."

These orcs certainly love hard, it seems. My eyes flick to Branikk, who smiles and reaches over to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. Then he leaves his arm resting on the back of my chair in one of those casual shows of togetherness I've seen other people have but never experienced until now. Until him.

While Branikk tells Krivoth and some of the others about our big battle in more detail, I chat with the other witches about our powers, learning Taylor can move things with her mind. She makes me float up out of my chair a good foot, then moves me sideways, depositing me on Branikk's lap with an impish grin. "Oops! Still practicing!" I don't believe her, but I also don't mind my new seat.

Evening's falling by the time we leave the pub, the big fluffy clouds in the sky over the green turning a glorious pink.

Branikk lets me walk this time, but keeps an arm wrapped around my shoulders as he steers me away from the village center. It takes me a few minutes to realize we're not headed for our cottage. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Okay."

"That was easy." He grins down at me. "I thought you didn't like surprises."

I shrug. "I trust you, and all of your surprises have been good." And it's true. Even if he never loves me like I love him, I know Branikk will never hurt me.

He stops us outside a rectangular building built in a more familiar style, with wood siding and a slate roof. He opens the door with a flourish, and warm humid air caresses my face as I step inside a long room dominated by a stone-lined pool, wisps of steam rising from the surface.

"What is this?"

"The communal baths. They're fed by a hot spring. I've wanted to share them with you for some time."

"Communal?" I gulp. I might have felt more welcome in Moon Blade Village than anywhere I've ever been, but I'm not sure I'm up for public nudity yet.

Instead of answering, he ushers me along to another door at the far end of the room. It holds a much smaller round pool set into the floor, and when he shuts the door, we're all alone.

"Better?"

I nod.

"Good." He pulls me to him, his voice dropping to a growl. "Because I can't bear the thought of anyone else seeing you naked."

I strain upward, hoping he'll kiss me, but instead, he slides his hands under the tunic top, lifting it slowly over my head. He places it on the wooden bench lining one wall.

Even my bra is new, and I'm surprised to find the linen comfortable, even though I doubt there's any elastic in Alarria.

When I say as much, he explains, "Magic! The other witches have been working with the village weaver to make special under things. Reta imbued this with her magic, which helps make things more comfortable."

He keeps working as he talks, crouching to remove my boots. Then his hands untie the simple drawstring of the linen pants, and they drop to my ankles. He grins up at me. "Perhaps I will cancel my order to have leather pants made for you. These are rather handy."

"I want some real pants." I swat his shoulder playfully.

When he looks ready to tear the new panties I have on, I say, "Don't you dare. They're pretty." The light pink is my favorite color.

He smirks, curling his tongue around his tusks in that seductive way he has, but he does as I ask, slipping my underwear from me with care.

Once I'm sitting on the bench, he wets a cleaning cloth in a bucket and runs it over me, moving with slow deliberateness, each stroke a caress.

"I thought we were taking a bath."

"The hot springs are for soaking. We go into them clean to keep the water nice." He washes me all over, leaving between my legs for last, the cloth lingering long after I must be clean.

I wiggle with impatience, already tingling, but he pulls his hand back instead of giving me anything I can grind on.

His smile is wicked as he stands. He's much faster with his own clothes, and in no time at all, he stands before me naked, his cock fully erect. Branikk picks up the bucket of water and lifts it over his head. Tipping his face back, he lets it pour over him in a sensual display that has my thighs clenching.

"I thought you might like that." He smirks. "You certainly seemed to last time."

He's talking about that time at the creek! My mouth falls open. "You knew I watched you?"

"I could smell your sweet arousal perfuming the air. It's what made me so hard."

The cloth moves over him with practiced efficiency, only slowing when it reaches his cock. He wraps his hand around it and gives it one good stroke, and my mouth goes dry. It's just like that time at the creek. Only now, I'm not hidden.

And I'm close enough to touch. I glide my hand across his damp stomach, loving the way the muscles flex and jump underneath my fingers.

With a growl, he scoops me from my seat and carries me to the sunken pool. A set of stone steps lead down into the water, and he settles on a submerged seat with me in his lap.

The hot water rises to my shoulders, feeling hella decadent, and I moan.

His fingers go to my hair, removing the scrunchie and working over my scalp until I'm a melted puddle of goo.

When I finally open my eyes, his face is serious, his dark eyes studying me.

"Why are you doing this?" I whisper. For all his care, I'm still too uncertain to ask what he feels for me, so I poke at the edges of it, going as close as I dare, hoping he'll blaze ahead in that fearless way he has. "What's this really all about?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

I shake my head. "I've never been good at people."

"You're excellent with the only one that counts. Me." He takes my hand and places it on his chest. "I love you with every beat of my heart, with every breath I take. I love you with every piece of my body, mind, and soul."

Oh! I press my hand to my trembling lips, emotions swirling through me in a jumbled mess. And I let them. It's okay. Because one thing rises to the top.

He loves me!

"I had a happy life before, but even then, something was missing. I sat in the main baths only a couple of weeks ago and dreamed of a bride." He chuckles and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "Everything I dreamed was wrong. She was nebulous, unformed, a pale imitation of the wonder that is you."

"I'm better than your dream woman?" I whisper.

"You are my dream woman, better than anything I could have imagined. You are strong and kind and practical, and you use that practicality to help others. Very few would have gone to the aid of strangers like you did for the cu sith."

"I guess my magic's pretty amazing, when it works."

"Your magic is powerful, but it's you who makes it amazing. It's your heart and soul that drive your creations, bringing joy to others."

His hand presses mine more firmly to him, his heartbeat strong under my palm.

"My bride, I love you. I will love you for this lifetime and beyond. A million lifetimes could not be enough. A million realms cannot contain all the love in my heart. You are the other piece of my soul, and I am only complete now that I have you."

He beams at me, heart-breakingly handsome, but I don't break.

I heal, full of joy and love.