Epilogue One

MARA

The summer solstice, seven months later

“I think that’s enough pins to hold even your hair,” Jasmine says, surveying her work. “Unless you mean to partake in very vigorous dancing, that is.”

From the other side of the room, Ritta lets out a laugh. “Dancing? Is that what’s expected of her on her wedding day?”

I glare at my friend’s reflection in the looking glass, but she simply winks back and takes another biscuit from the tray Carrow brought for us from the kitchen.

“I’m not responsible for whatever happens after the wedding,” Jasmine replies primly. “Dawn and I had no part in planning that.”

Dawn’s giggle comes from my right, and I glance at her to find her hunched over my table, poring through the list she and Jasmine had put together for the day. “I should hope not. But I think…” She runs her finger down the paper, then flips it with an impatient twist of her hand. “We’re done—no, wait, where’s the bouquet?”

“Right here,” Hazel chimes in. She motions at the side table where she’d put the beautiful bouquet of wildflowers into a vase to keep the blooms fresh after she and Wren had picked them for me this morning. “But you’re still missing something.”

I glance down at my half-naked body. “Oh, this is how orcs get married, didn’t you know? In undershirts and nothing else.”

Her dark eyes glitter with amusement. “I’m fairly certain Owen would appreciate it, but Poppy would not .”

Poppy, who has been standing by my bed, guarding my wedding dress all this time, glowers at the both of us. “That’s not funny. This is my masterpiece. The most beautiful garment I’ve ever created. If you refuse to wear it, I swear I will cry, and it’s not just the fact that I haven’t slept through the night in six months.”

I hurry over to her and grasp her hands. “We’re only joking, darling. I will wear your dress, and I’m so grateful you made it for me.”

She sniffles, her blue eyes watery with tears. “I know. I just adore weddings, and we haven’t had enough of them.” She glances over at Willow, who’s been sitting in a chair, propped up by a pillow because her back has been aching this morning. “Especially since some people got married without any warning and I didn’t get to make a dress for them .”

Willow smiles serenely, her hand on her rounded belly. “My wedding was perfect, thank you very much. I wouldn’t change it for the world.” She eyes the dress on the bed, then adds, “But if you want to make me something as pretty as that , I won’t complain.”

“Violet and Marut got married before she ever came to the Hill,” Ivy pipes up from the corner where she’s been braiding a flower crown for me. “So I suppose everyone does things in their own way.”

I can’t help but grin at the mention of the newest parents in the Hill. Violet had their baby twins just weeks ago, and they’re still too busy to attend the preparations, though Violet said they would definitely be there for the ceremony.

“It’s time!” Rose bursts through the door, her pretty face flushed red. “They’ll be ready soon, so you’d better get dressed, Mara.”

Poppy lets out an excited squeak, then carefully gathers up my wedding dress and steps on a stool to help me put it on without ruining my artfully braided hair. The periwinkle silk flows over my body, cool and smooth, and I shake it out, then face my reflection in the looking glass.

“It’s magnificent,” Jasmine breathes. “Poppy, you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Poppy is flitting around me, tying hidden little bows and doing up the buttons on my back, but she beams at the compliment. “Thank you. The color just suits Mara so well. I knew this was going to be the right fabric the moment I saw it in the shop.”

When she declares me ready, she steps away and lets Ivy and Jasmine pin the flower crown in my hair with more of the golden pins.

“Now, I would definitely suggest taking this off before any, ah, dancing ,” Ivy quips. “Or your bed will be full of flower debris.”

Hazel hands me the bouquet, the stems of the flowers tied together with a ribbon that matches my dress. “There. The last detail.”

I take the flowers, then draw in a deep inhale. This is it—in moments, I’ll walk out of this room and head toward the entrance hall to meet Owen and marry him in the human way, with all the clan and his family as our witnesses.

“Ready?” Rose asks from the door. “Uram’s waiting for your signal. He’ll run ahead and tell them we’re coming.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Aye, I’m ready.”

Rose grins and leaves, the first of us to depart the room. Everyone else crowds together, careful not to squish me or the flowers but buzzing with anticipation.

Hazel picks up a small basket of flower petals and peers through the door. “Vark?” she calls. “You can bring her now.”

My friend appears at the open door, leading Wren by the hand. His one eye widens as he notices me standing in the middle of the group. “Ah, Mara, you’re a beautiful bride. Your human is lucky to have you.”

With that, he departs, hurrying down the corridor. I grin—Owen and I agreed to a big wedding because Dawn suggested we should have one and offered to shoulder most of the planning, but now that the day is here, I have to admit, I’m enjoying it, too. It feels nice to dress up in such a pretty gown and to wear flowers in my hair. I haven’t taken much time off at all in the past years—in the past decade, really—and I’m looking forward to spending days alone with Owen after this.

“Remember, straight to the entrance hall,” Hazel instructs her daughter. “No detours to search for the mice. We’ll deal with those after the ceremony, all right?”

Wren nods solemnly, her curly blonde hair bouncing around her head. “Aye, Mama. I know the way.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “I never thought I’d have a flower girl at my wedding, but you’re perfect for the role.”

The little girl beams at me, then takes the basket from her mother and marches out of the room, throwing the first handful of petals in an artful arc.

Hazel’s eyes water with an uncharacteristic show of emotion. “She’s been practicing all week. She might run out of petals before we reach the front hall, but by the gods, those will be the best-thrown petals in all the kingdoms.” She blinks and sniffles, then adds, “Come on, we’d better follow her before she disappears from sight.”

With that, the wedding procession pours from my room and into the corridor. Dawn and Hazel lead us, following in Wren’s footsteps. Then it’s Ritta and Sarrai, walking proudly, resplendent in new leather pants and embroidered tunics, their ears glinting with gold. I walk close behind them, staring at Sarrai’s swinging braid to keep my focus—because I’m starting to fret a little, silly thoughts invading my mind.

What if Owen changed his mind?

I give myself a firm mental slap and lift my chin resolutely. He didn’t—he would never. I’ve never met a man so loyal and faithful as him, and I know he’s waiting for me. I can almost feel us getting closer, our bond pulling us together.

I lose track of all the twists in the corridors for once, and suddenly, we’re there, the entrance hall opening before us. Dawn and Jasmine have outdone themselves, decorating the hall with greenery and wildflowers to create a beautiful setting for the wedding. I was banned from this part of the palace for the past couple of days, and now I look around curiously to find that Gorvor must have allowed them to remove both wings of the front gate for the ceremony to create an open space with sunlight streaming in.

The moment Wren steps out of the hallway, a sweet melody fills the air.I glance up, searching for the source of the sound, and find Ozork standing to the side, his fiddle tucked under his chin, his fingers dancing deftly on the strings. My chest swells with emotion—he’s here, supporting me, just as I was there for him. One by one, I notice the other clan members standing up to meet my companions and me. There’s Vark, his gaze flitting between Wren, Hazel, and me, Steagor with baby Juniper strapped to his chest, Neekar, grinning broadly, Violet and Marut, both looking tired but happy, and Taris, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Korr pulls Ivy to his side and wraps his arms around her, beaming at me. Jasmine takes her place between her mates, Morg and Torren, and gives me a little nod of encouragement.

Standing right at the gate is Gorvor, resplendent in a new tunic, embroidered with golden thread, his iron crown resting on his head. He grins at me, then motions at someone hidden behind the crowd.

Owen moves into view, and my breath stalls in my throat. He stares right at me, his eyes widening, and then he beams, looking so happy. He steps toward me, past Wren, who has upturned her basket to shake out the last of the petals. He offers me his hand, and I take it—and the moment our fingers touch, all doubt and anxiety evaporate from me.

“Hello, my lady,” he murmurs, barely loud enough for me to hear. “You look stunning.”

“So do you,” I whisper.

Poppy sewed a new jacket for him, made of forest-green linen to echo my skin and match the periwinkle of my dress. His hair, freshly washed, has been braided at the sides, accentuating his sharp cheekbones, but otherwise hangs to his shoulders, golden and silky.And his eyes—they’re as blue as the summer sky, just like I imagined all those months ago.

Then Carrow and Willow are there, our witnesses, to stand with us in front of our king. Now that I’m with Owen, I relax enough to notice more guests in the crowd—all the clan members, crowding both in the entrance hall and outside, and Owen’s family, who arrived a week ago from Ultrup. His oldest sister couldn’t make it because she’d just had her second baby, but all the rest of his family members are there—his parents, his younger brother, and younger sisters, all of whom have been the object of much interest and speculation among the younger orcs of the clan.

Owen’s mother beams at me from the front row, her arm looped around her husband’s. We’ve talked several times over the past days. I’d been afraid that she would resent me because her son has moved so far away from the human lands, but she seemed genuinely happy for us and interested to learn all about our life in the mountains.

Owen squeezes my hand gently, and we both turn to face Gorvor. Carrow steps up beside me, squeezes me in a tight hug, then takes my bouquet from me. He’s been happily living with Ian ever since they first met each other. Ian had to return to Ultrup this spring, same as Owen, but they both came back free men, and have been employed by the clan ever since.

It’s been a strange time for our clan, with lots of traveling back and forth, especially for Willow and Ozork’s new initiative to help the Duke of Ultrup hunt and remove all the remaining slave traders in his lands. Though I haven’t braved the world outside of our kingdom yet, I hope to accompany Owen someday when he visits his family.

“Dear guests,” Gorvor begins, his deep voice booming out over the crowd. “Thank you for joining us here today as we celebrate the marriage of Owen Hawke and my dearest cousin, Mara, Norriah’s daughter.”

I grin at him, happiness bubbling up in my chest. We’ve come so far since our unhappy childhood in the old kingdom, and I’m so proud that it’s him officiating the ceremony to marry me to the love of my life.

Owen and I raise our hands, and Gorvor ties them together with a piece of red silk ribbon, a wedding slightly more elaborate than we’d had for Willow and Ozork. It was Willow who educated Gorvor on the practices used in human ceremonies after he’d worried that he might not have done a good enough job with her and Ozork’s wedding.

“When we moved from the old kingdom and claimed these mountains as our home,” Gorvor says, “I never thought we would see our clan flourish so well. We’d been focused on survival, pure and simple, on building up our defenses and making sure our people were safe and fed through the seasons. But it has been such a privilege to see us bloom far past that initial goal.”

He glances to the side, where Dawn is standing with Arvel in her arms. His gaze flits this way and that, combing the crowd.

When he speaks next, his voice is thicker than before. “You all made sacrifices to help me create this clan, and few have given so much as my cousin Mara.” He faces me again, lifts his chin, and adds, “I told you once that you’ve helped make this palace a home, and I stand by that. It gives me great pleasure to know that you’ve found happiness of your own, a mate who challenges you and protects you at the same time.”

My eyes well with tears, and I blink quickly, not wanting to blubber at my wedding. Instead, I beam at him, my heart brimming with love. “Thank you.”

Then Gorvor turns to Owen. “I have watched you closely over the past months, Owen, son of Louie, and I have determined you are as honorable and true as my cousin claims. It is a privilege to welcome you into my family, just as I have welcomed you into my clan.”

Owen lifts his chin, his cheeks pink. “Thank you, my lord.”

My cousin lowers his voice and says, “You’ll have to start calling me Gorvor now, or my Dawn will make endless fun of me, you know.”

Owen’s smile is quick and somewhat relieved. “All right, I’ll see what I can do.”

“We’ve gathered here today to celebrate these two people who have found each other against all odds,” Gorvor booms again, facing the clan. “I don’t want to keep you too long because I know our wonderful cooks have prepared a feast that will be remembered for years to come. Mara, Owen, your growing happiness has been a joy to watch. This wedding is a beautiful confirmation of what you two already know—that you are made for each other. My hope is that you will live a happy, abundant life, and I’m very glad that you chose our clan as your home.”

“Thank you for welcoming us here.” Owen squeezes my hand and looks down at me. “I never thought this was what my life would be like, but I wouldn’t change it for anything. The moment I saw you drop that platter of food, I had to know you—but you’re so much more than I’d hoped for. I love you, Mara, and I’m so happy to be your husband.”

My tears spill over, so I swipe my free hand over my cheeks quickly, then beam up at him. “I love you, Owen, and I’m sorry it took me a while to admit it. I’ve told you I love you every day for months, and I will continue to do so for however many decades we’ll have together.”

“Oh, gods.” Gorvor clears his throat, a little choked. “I had a longer speech prepared, but you two said it all. So I propose that you seal this thing with a kiss.”

Before he even finishes speaking, Owen tugs me closer, and I lift my chin, meeting him halfway. His lips press against mine, and we’re both smiling as the crowd around us erupts into cheers, but I close my eyes and sink all my love and affection into the kiss. The whoops and whistles fade away. Owen brings his palm up to cup my cheek, and for a moment, it’s just us, alone, together.

When he lifts his head, his blue eyes are wide, his lips parted, and by the way his gaze darts to the side, I know he’s experiencing the same surprise that we’re in fact still in a crowded hall, surrounded by the entire clan and his relatives. His smile is slow, but grows to a beautiful grin, and mine matches it exactly.

“Hello, wife,” he murmurs.

I squeeze his hand. “Hello, husband.”

Gorvor is the first to congratulate us, pulling us both into a big, warm embrace. If Owen is surprised by the king hugging us, he hides it well and gives my cousin a thump on his back. Then the others line up, a procession of well-wishers, so many people who have come to be here with us on this beautiful day.

The feast begins soon after, on the meadow below the main gate. Dawn and Jasmine have thought of a perfect way to lessen the anxiety I still experience when I’m outside for too long—they set up a tent for the wedding party, made of thick burgundy cloth, and its dark canopy is just enough for me to feel safe while I’m also distracted by Owen and all the guests.

If I allow myself to think about where I am too much, my mind brings up all the horrible things that could happen to me—and my loved ones—outside the Hill. But now that Owen and I have been practicing daily, I can stay outside for a while without breaking down in a nervous sweat. When Owen had to return to Ultrup with Willow to officially resign from the Duke’s Army, I kept up the habit of going outside with the help of my friends. I would ask Poppy to sit with me, and she’d let me cuddle baby Juniper for a while. Or Dawn would take me along on a stroll with Arvel, where we’d end up in the meadow, having a picnic while surrounded by at least three of the king’s personal guards. I’ve also started visiting Ivy and Korr for tea every week or so, because being in their cottage is easier than standing out in the open. And besides, Korr understands my affliction all too well and has given me some suggestions to help me through difficult times.

When Owen returned from Ultrup, I waited for him outside the main gate, and his joyful grin when he saw me standing there was worth all the effort I’d put into my practice.

Now all the people who have helped me have come to celebrate with us, and I thank each and every one of them because I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them. I may have lost my parents—orcs who loved each other deeply but didn’t understand their daughter very well—but I gained a family. And no matter what, they’ve always stood by my side, and I know they’ll continue to do so in the future.

Owen leans in, his gaze soft. “Remember Ozork and Willow’s wedding?”

I lift my eyebrows. “How could I forget?”

“You told me you’d dance with me another time,” he reminds me.

I shift in my seat so I can face him more fully. “What are you on about? We’ve danced at the winter solstice celebration as well as the spring ball.”

It’s not that I don’t want to dance with him right now—I most definitely do—but he’s acting as if we’ve never done this before.

“Yes, but we’ve never danced at a wedding .”

“Is this your roundabout way of asking me to dance?” I poke him in the arm. “And how much mead have you had? I saw Vark pouring you a cup earlier.”

He shakes his head. “I switched my cup with his when he wasn’t looking. I’ve had some, but the last thing I want to do on our wedding night is to pass out trying to out-drink an orc.”

I glance to the open meadow where Vark is dancing with Hazel among the other wedding guests. They’re swaying lightly, hugging tight, and after a moment, it becomes clear Vark is holding Hazel off the ground as her feet aren’t even touching the grass.

I snort in amusement. “That was a good idea.”

Owen stands and offers me his hand. “Well, wife? What say you?”

I put my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. “I like it when you call me that.”

My voice comes out as a low murmur, more seductive than I thought it would be, but now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t stop my mind painting the picture of what it will be like when he calls me that while we’re in bed together.

Owen’s gaze darkens. “I like it, too.” He leads me into the crowd and pulls me into his arms, so close our toes are almost touching. “Have I told you yet that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“Mm, you have.” I lean in and kiss his cheek. “But maybe not today.”

He turns his head toward mine and sniffs my hair. “Well, you are. And you smell so good, too.”

I’m about to reply when the slow tune we’ve been dancing to changes to a lively song that has all the guests exclaiming and cheering. The group of musicians on the small stage sing along with the crowd, and suddenly, we find ourselves pulled into a country dance, the circle expanding with every orc and human who joins the celebration. Owen’s siblings are among the dancers, as are most of our friends from the clan, both young and old.

The circle breaks down into couples, and I find myself dancing with Steagor, then Ozork, then Ritta and Taris, with Ozork again, then Neekar, who spins me around until we’re both dizzy and laughing. My hair is a mess by the time I scent anise and cedar again and grip Owen’s hand tight so I don’t lose him again.

“Are you thirsty?” he shouts over the noise of the crowd. “We could sit and rest for a while…”

I shake my head, grinning up at him. “No, but I think this is the perfect moment to escape!”

Owen’s gaze sharpens, and he surveys our dancing clansmen with a soldier’s efficiency. “Come on, let’s duck under here…”

I cling on to his hand as he dives between dancing couples and winds his way around the tables holding the remnants of our wedding feast. Earna, Carrow, and the rest of the kitchen staff have really outdone themselves, and so many others have helped, both with setting up the tables, picking flowers for the table arrangements, and minding the small children who would have grown bored during the ceremony.

Everyone pitched in, and for a moment, I feel a twinge of guilt at leaving the party so abruptly—and then I remember that my clan will see our escape as completely natural because we’re fated mates, and this is expected of us.

“Remind me to write thank-you notes to everyone tomorrow,” I pant as I follow Owen uphill from the meadow, right to the front gate.

He arches one blond eyebrow. “Tomorrow?”

I click my tongue. “Perhaps the day after. Sometime this week, in any case. I’m sure we’ll…find some time, won’t we?”

“That depends entirely on you, wife, and how long you intend to keep your husband for yourself.” Owen tugs me closer to his side and kisses my knuckles, then tucks my hand in the crook of his elbow. “For my part, I’ll be happy to remain in our rooms for the foreseeable future.”

We reach the front gate, which is guarded by two young soldiers. They greet us with slightly morose expressions—no doubt the result of drawing the short straw and not being able to participate in the party—but someone had been by to bring them food from the feast. They cross us out of the list in the ledger when they recognize us, though, and I realize that they, too, are doing their part for our party.

“You’ll make sure everyone is safely inside, won’t you?” I ask nevertheless. “I wouldn’t want anyone falling asleep under a bush somewhere and waking up?—”

“We’ll take care of it, Mara,” Lorm promises me. “We’ve got everyone’s names right here.”

“Aye, you two should get out of sight before the rest of the clan figure out you’re gone,” Darrin adds. “I heard the king practicing a post-dinner speech yesterday, and as far as I could hear from here, he hasn’t started it yet.”

“Oh dear.” I bite my lip, looking up at Owen. “You don’t think we should wait for that, do you?”

Owen’s blue eyes glint warmly in the torchlight. “What do you want to do?”

I hesitate for a moment, then grab his hand and drag him deeper into the Hill. “He’ll understand.”

Darrin’s and Lorm’s laughter echoes behind us as we turn into the corridor leading toward our rooms.

The closer we get, the faster we walk, and by the time we enter the last hallway, we’re laughing, racing for the door. Owen takes the iron key from his pocket and unlocks the door, and I rush over the threshold into the darkened room to light a lantern. I don’t need it, but like Owen said once, months ago—I need to see him, and I want him to be able to see me.

A click behind my back tells me Owen has locked the door, and my anticipation grows higher, accentuated by my husband’s slow footsteps. I put the flint down and close the little glass shell of the lantern, then straighten and face him.

He’s so handsome, I stop and simply look at him. He seems to know what I’m thinking because he crosses his strong arms over his chest and smirks at me, though his cheeks are turning pink. When I walk toward him, he steps forward, too, intercepting me, and wraps me in his arms.

His first kiss is gentle, as if we’re both acknowledging that we don’t have to rush anymore now that we’re here, in the privacy of our home.

“Was it like you wanted it to be?” he murmurs, his nose touching mine. “The wedding?”

“Aye.” I lift my chin and kiss the corner of his mouth. “I enjoyed every moment. Did you?”

“Mm.” He brings his lips to my ear and licks the tip of it, sending a shiver through me. “You know I did. You would have scented it otherwise.”

A grin stretches my lips. “You seem to understand a lot about orcs, sir. How did you get to know so much?”

Owen slips his hands down my back to cup my ass. “Well, I was highly motivated, you see. I wanted to seduce a beautiful orc woman, so I had to learn everything I could to prove myself to her.”

I palm the back of his neck and tug him down to me. “You never had to prove anything. I already knew you were the one for me.”

He kisses me then, obeying my demand, and we shuffle together toward our bed. We’ve had a larger one made since Owen moved in with me, but the silky, embroidered blankets remain the same. Their softness envelops me when Owen lays me down on the bed and removes first one slipper, then the other, then pushes the skirts of my dress past my knees.

“Owen,” I gasp as he spreads my thighs, kneels in front of me, and puts his lips to my pearl.

We’ve done this so many times in the past months—and learned so much about each other’s bodies and pleasure—but it feels like it’s completely new every single time. When he dips his tongue into my pussy, I arch my back off the bed, and when he pushes two fingers inside me, I cry out, my need burning brighter.

“No, stop,” I pant when the first shimmers of my climax dance through me. “Not like this—not tonight.”

Owen lifts his head, surprise clear on his face. “I’ll make you come again, don’t worry?—”

But I’m already scrambling to my knees, reaching for the tiny bows at my wrists to undo my dress. “I want you inside me. Don’t you want that, too?”

He stares at me for a beat, his eyes wild, his hair disheveled from my fingers, then curses softly under his breath. “Fuck, what am I even thinking? Of course I want that.”

He’s on his feet a moment later, fingers flying on the buttons of his jacket. He shucks it down his arms and lets it fall to the floor. I’m already reaching for him, tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants, and shove the fabric up his chest and over his head. He laughs when the collar snags on his chin, and by the time we manage to pull the shift off, his hair is a mess, the neat braids at his temples unraveling.And yet, he’s never been more handsome.

I dig my fingers into his silky mane and pull him down on top of me. Owen lets out a huff of surprise and catches himself on his hands, but I need him close, I need his body against mine, so I roll us around until I’m sitting across his lap, my knees on either side of his hips.

“Mara.”

He gasps as I palm his rigid length through the fabric of his pants, then helps me shove the pants down by lifting his hips. His cock bobs up, the tip reddened, the shaft veiny and thick, and my mouth waters at the sight of the almost translucent drop of cum that appears at the slit.

“No,” he rasps, his hand on my arm. “I know what you meant earlier. I need to be inside you. Sit on me, sweetheart.”

I draw up the silky skirts of my dress, and Owen helps, holding the fabric up so I can reach down and line his cock up with my pussy lips. I’m wet from where he licked me, and I don’t waste any time—I simply bear down and take his length, inch by slow inch.

“Fuck!” Owen throws his head back, the silk rustling as he grips it in his fists. “You’re so fucking tight. Give me— ah! —give me a moment, I can’t?—”

My progress stops, my inner muscles clenching around his hard cock. I frown and rock up a bit, then sink lower, repeating the process until my ass meet’s Owen’s groin. We’re both breathing hard, and Owen’s face is flushed red, the tendons standing out in his neck.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe, my voice higher than before. “I-I don’t know what came over me. I just knew…”

“That you needed this, I understand.” Owen moves his hands to my hips and squeezes lightly. “I felt it, too.”

I bite my lip, staring down at him. His broad chest is heaving with deep breaths—he’s mostly naked while I’m still wearing my wedding gown. I giggle, unable to stop myself.

“Will you help me get out of this?” I ask, trying to reach behind my back to undo the buttons. “I think we should have undressed me first…”

Owen pushes himself up to a seated position, and we both gasp at the movement. Now that he’s so deep inside me, his cockhead presses right against that spot on the inner wall of my pussy, sending a pulse of desire through me.

“ Oh . That—that feels good.” I clamp my hands on his shoulders and hold him tight. “I need to move, Owen.”

He chuckles, his breath caressing the sensitive skin on my neck. “Just a little longer, sweetheart. I want to tease your tits.”

I can’t resist it—I rock my hips forward just a little, impaling myself deeper onto his cock. He reaches the end of me in this position, and I moan, then do it again, unable to stop myself.

“Mara.” His fingers fumble with the buttons on my back. “Wait?—”

But when I move again, sliding up and down his cock, he works with me, holding my waist to help me. With each downward glide, he grinds our hips together, teasing my pearl, and it’s so incredibly good—every thrust hits that spot deep inside me. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face in his chest because I’m so, so close, I know it’ll only take?—

Owen takes my chin with one hand and tips it up. Then he kisses me roughly, his tongue sliding against mine, his teeth scraping over my bottom lip. He groans my name, then sucks on my tongue, echoing the way he teased my pearl earlier.

Pleasure pulls me under. I cry out, Owen’s name echoing around our room. My inner muscles clamp down on his rigid cock, but he fucks me through it, moving my hips up and down, drawing out my climax.

When I grow limp in his lap, panting, he squeezes me close to his chest and kisses my temple.

“You’re so gorgeous when you come,” he rasps. “I love you.”

I let out a breathless laugh. “I love you, too. But—you didn’t come?”

He noses my temple, his breath warm on my skin. “Not yet. I almost did, when I felt your pussy fluttering around my cock.”

Biting my lip, I squeeze my inner muscles, and Owen lets out a groan, his expression almost pained.

“Stay still for a moment.”

A snap of command enters his voice—something that only happens when he’s on the edge, and never fails to wind my need tighter.

I try my very best to obey him, but when he moves to undo the last of the buttons on the back of my dress, his hard cock presses deeper inside me, and I whimper, my over-sensitive pussy contracting around it.

“Fuck, this bow…” He tugs on a particularly tight knot, his forehead furrowed in concentration.

I grasp his shoulders, whimpering. “Just tear it off.”

He shakes his head. “Not a chance. I’m not ruining this dress. You’d regret it tomorrow… There .”

The last tie unravels, and Owen carefully lifts the silk gown over my head. Then he glances down at my nightgown and stares, his mouth open in surprise.

“Mara…”

I can’t help the smug smile that twists my lips up. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?”

Owen brings up his palms to cup my tits through the almost-translucent silk. He seems lost for words, but then his gaze sharpens, and he looks up at my face again. He lifts one hand to my cheek and presses his thumb down on my chin to open my mouth as he kisses me, a carnal, filthy kiss that has me whining in need. He plunders my mouth with ruthless precision—a man pushed past the edge, lost to passion.

With strong hands, he takes my waist and lifts me off his cock—I gasp in protest, but he flips me on my front a moment later, and I realize what he’s doing.He kicks off his pants and tosses them over the side of the bed.

“On your knees,” he commands, his voice rough. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

It’s nothing we haven’t done a dozen times before over the past months, but the need in Owen’s words echoes through me, fanning the embers simmering in my belly. I raise my hips and go down on my elbows, anchoring myself on the bed. My hair is coming undone, my flower crown long lost, but I don’t care that I look a mess—and neither does Owen. He leans over me, his hips touching my ass, the fabric of my undershirt the only barrier between us. Still, the heat of his hard cock permeates through the silk as he reaches forward and pulls the golden pins from my hair, one by one.

“I fucking love doing this.” His fingers are gentle as he adds, “Every time you put your hair up in one of these elaborate styles, I can only think how good it’ll feel to make it messy again.”

I laugh, a little shaky from anticipation. “And I love it when you do it.”

He sifts his fingers through my hair. “Do what, Mara?”

He wraps my hair around his fist and gives me a gentle tug, just enough to put pressure on my scalp.

“That,” I breathe.

With his other hand, he pushes my undershirt over my hips, his palm warm on my skin. When he slips his fingers to my wet pussy, I rock back instinctively, chasing the contact, and he obliges by pushing two fingers inside me, teasing the sensitive flesh right at the opening.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs. “I want to keep you here all night and see how many times I can make you come just like this.”

His fingertips probe around, and my inner muscles clench around them eagerly, but it’s not enough, not this time.

“Owen…” I plead, shifting on the bed to get more of the delicious contact, but every time I do, I find myself restrained by his grip on my hair.

He’s keeping me pinned in place, right where he wants me. If I asked him to stop, he’d do it immediately—but why would I when this feels so good?

“Just a little longer.” His voice has gone low, almost hoarse, and he kisses the small of my back as if praising me for holding on. “Give me one more, sweetheart, and I’ll fuck you after, I promise.”

I tremble under him, my entire body so tense. “I don’t know if I can,” I protest, even as I thrust my ass back.

“You can,” he assures me, his fingers keeping that same slow rhythm. “I know you can. You’re doing so well.”

“Can I touch my pearl?” I’m already sneaking my hand under my body, reaching between my legs. “That’ll make it go faster.”

Owen stills his fingers inside me. “Not yet. Just feel this. Let me take care of you.”

I release a shuddering breath, but I do as he asks and grip the sheets instead, letting go of my control. It’s the hardest thing, giving myself over to my husband so completely, but he rewards me by adding a third finger. He pushes inside my pussy and twists his fingers lightly, fucking me faster now.

“You’ve been so good,” he praises me, “so fucking amazing. I’m so proud to be your husband, Mara. I’ll take such good care of you.”

His words are a blur, a rambling stream that washes over me, heightening my awareness. I’m gasping now, so close to my release my entire body is tingling, and I desperately want to feel Owen’s cock inside me, pushing right to that amazing spot deep in my pussy, but he’s still stroking me, teasing, teasing…

Then he plunges his fingers deep and spreads them lightly, pressing hard on my inner muscles, and at the same time, he tugs on my hair. The twin sensations spread through me and collide, and my climax slams down on me, an avalanche of pleasure.

I scream into the pillows and try to curl into myself, overwhelmed, but my body demands more , so I rock back instead, riding Owen’s hand.

“That’s it,” he coaxes me, “take what you need from me.”

“Owen!”

I try to get up—because I have to reciprocate this somehow, make him understand how good he made me feel—but my husband releases my hair and places his palm between my shoulder blades.

“Wait,” he rasps. “Just—wait, Mara.”

He pulls his fingers from me slowly, and I twist my head enough to look at him. He’s staring down at me with such hunger, my pussy clenches instinctively. He wraps his wet hand around his cock and slicks my juices all over his length, then shuffles closer, until his thighs are flush with mine. The broad tip of his cock notches at my pussy opening, and then he’s pushing in, my inner muscles fluttering around him.

“Aaah!” He sinks all the way inside, his back bowing from the pleasure. “Gods, you feel good.”

He bottoms out, and I close my eyes because his cockhead reaches right to that spot inside me—and his thick shaft fills me so well, rubbing against the same muscles at my opening that Owen spent the last minutes teasing so well. This is more than I can take, because surely it’s impossible to?—

“Look at me.”

Owen’s low command has me twisting my neck to meet his gaze. He grasps my hips with both hands and withdraws an inch, two, then slams back inside, jostling me on the bed. My eyelids flutter from the pleasure, but I force myself to keep staring at him because he’s so damn handsome, his features harsh as he fucks me like this.

“Don’t stop,” I beg.

He lets out a choked laugh. “I couldn’t—there’s no turning back now, Mara.”

In a quick lunge, he wraps his arm around my middle and pulls me up so I’m almost sitting on his spread thighs. In this position, my weight serves to impale me deeper onto his cock, and I cry out, sparks dancing behind my eyelids.

Owen slides his hand up to my breast and cups it, then pinches my nipple between his fingers. It sends a bolt of pleasure to my core, and I scramble for purchase, needing some leverage. I reach back to grasp the back of Owen’s neck, and we dance together, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“Touch your pearl,” he commands. “Right now.”

My breaths are coming out as heaving sobs, but I obey him anyway because I want this, I want him—and I love how he understands exactly what I need.

The moment I press my fingers over my pearl, my body jerks in his arms, my pussy contracting around his thick length. He shouts and fucks me faster, all finesse gone now—we’re chasing our release, and I only need…

Owen’s cock pulses inside me, and he roars as his climax hits. He pulls me down hard over his cock, and I swipe my fingers over my pearl once more, pushing myself over the edge. Pleasure radiates from our connection, and I stroke myself through it all, drawing out my climax. Owen groans and tightens his hold on me, his hips twitching up as my pussy milks the cum from him.

“Mara…”

I turn my head to the side and press my lips against the underside of his jaw. I’m beyond words, and my body is growing limp, all my strength leaching out from my muscles.

“This was amazing,” I breathe.

“I think this counts as a wedding night success.” He lets out a low laugh, then gently lifts me off him and lays me on the bed. “This is a good sign, right? Wait here a moment.”

His footsteps recede, but I don’t have the will to turn my head and look where he’s going. My thoughts float away, but when Owen returns with a washcloth, I manage to pry my eyes open.

“This will be cold,” he warns me before he nudges my thighs apart and swipes the cloth between my legs. “Sorry.”

I spread my knees for him and let him clean me. I shiver a little at the touch of the cool fabric, but it’s over soon, and Owen tosses the cloth in the hamper and joins me in bed. I roll over to allow him to pull up the covers, then immediately shuffle closer to him because he’s warm and mine and I need him still.

“Hey.” He kisses my forehead, then takes my chin and lifts it to meet my gaze. “Are you all right?”

My throat is suddenly tight, but I nod anyway, then bury my face in the crook of his arm to hide the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His arms come around me, and he holds me close, stroking my back in slow, soothing circles.

He doesn’t ask me to explain—and I couldn’t put everything I’m feeling into words, anyway. I’m simply full of love and affection and gratitude that we’re here, that we’ve found each other and overcame every obstacle to stay together. As I clutch Owen closer, I even feel a rush of pride—for him, because he risked everything and left his home to be with me, and for myself, because I’ve faced my greatest fear to be able to live a full life with him.

As my breathing quiets down, I press a kiss to his chest. “I think I’d like to visit the human lands next year.”

Owen lifts his head to look down at me. “Really? We don’t have to…”

“Aye, I think so.” I put my hand over his heart. “I’d like to see your home. Learn more about your family. If we travel in a carriage instead of on horseback, it might be easier for me.”

I can hear more than see his smile. “You’ve given this some thought, I see.”

I grin against his skin. “Of course.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He kisses the top of my head. “You’re so good at solving issues.”

“There’s another issue I wanted to talk to you about,” I murmur.

“Oh?”

My throat tightens, but I force the words out despite the anxiety creeping through my mind. “I’d like to have a baby. If, uh, if you want one, too, I mean. I don’t want to rush you into a decision, I’m only telling you because we said no more secrets, and I didn’t want?—”

“Mara.” Owen covers his hand with mine, squeezing it. “I’d like that, too.”

I shuffle back a bit so I can meet his gaze. “But—you never said so.”

His mouth twists in a wry smile. “You told me once you weren’t certain if you’ll ever want one, so the last thing I wanted to do was pressure you. I love you, and that’s enough. Besides, I’m not the one who will have to carry the child inside me for the better part of the year.” He brushes back my hair, his touch so gentle. “But if you have changed your mind, I’m all in. I will love you both—or rather all of you, depending on how many babies you want to have.”

His heartbeat is faster under my palm now, but his scent remains calm—and happy. I inhale deeply, then close my eyes and snuggle back into his side.

“Just one to start with,” I tell him. “Then we’ll see how we go on.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling under my ear. “All right, I suppose that’s a fair plan.”

“I love you.” I close my eyes, more content than I’ve ever been in my life.

Owen kisses my lips, then murmurs, “I love you, too.”