15. Orlagh

FIFTEEN

Solstra help me,but whatever's happening with this mating bond has me one breathless breath away from going absolutely feral. At this rate the only words I'm going to be able to wheeze out once Rok finally gets us up the rest of these rickety iron stairs and into that dressing room are fuck, me, and now—and that's if I can remember any words at all once I've gotten my mate all to myself.

Mate.

Just thinking the word makes my toes curl in these thin leather flats, makes my breath catch in my throat as I swallow a soft moan, fingers digging into Rok's furs so tightly that my knuckles ache. Every muscle in my body is wound up tighter than tight as I continue to fight against the carnal insanity building inside me, to still my seeking hips when all they want to do is rock, when all they want is Rok.

I felt a shift as we were making our way through that chaos down there, one that sent my thoughts, my feelings, my senses—everything—into complete overdrive. It was right after I joked about being an exception to Mila's rules, after I declared myself Rok's mate again and felt him tense beneath me. Once his hands had stopped roaming my backside and the world melted back into place, when the reality of what kind of blissful torture waiting to get him alone was going to be started really setting in, I… I started to feel myself glowing, to get a taste of how compelling this ocean of need inside me truly is.

Sunbeams are snaking through my veins even now, coiling low in my belly and pulsing brightly over every single thought in my horny little head. The heat that sizzles inside me as they do seems to turn every second I'm not sheathing Rok's massive cock into another one full of delicious torture, taking my lack of acquiescence to their hot demands as a hand delivered invitation to burn a bit brighter. These hot waves of desire are like nothing I've ever known, and they only seem to be capable of consuming, compounding, demanding; bothmy attention and his, by proxy—I'd be worried about turning into a single-minded sex zombie if the idea of sustaining myself on Rok's thick, velvety cock didn't sound so very, very appealing.

If I could just wiggle forward a bit more, though, just the teensiest bit higher, I could get some much needed relief, could press myself against his iron traps and make every one of these steady, heavy footsteps of his send a deliciously welcome jolt of pleasure straight through me, could rock against him until stars burst behind my eyes, maybe get a brief window of rational thought…

"Easy now," Rok chuckles, pausing on the steps to adjust his hold on me. The baritone of his voice rumbles right through me, my senses overwhelmed with smoke and citrus and him, the familiar scent flaring bright and bold between us. "Hang tight, I got you. Just one more flight up, anyhow."

"I'm not trying to get down, I'm trying to get off," I whine, not even able to bring myself to blush at how insufferably petulant I must sound while I brace my hands on his shoulder, pushing myself up like a bratty teenaged mermaid on a rock and twisting my hips just a teeny bit more, heedless of the dizzying height. I'm safer up here, in his arms, than I am anywhere else, anyway; Rok would never let me fall. "We're just… we're finally out of that crowd and, sun above, I don't know. I can't explain it, but I can hardly think straight. Can't you feel it too? I want—no, need. I… I need?—"

"Oh, plenty of wants and needs here, sunshine. You know damn well the thought of getting under these skirts has been driving me fucking wild, that you've been driving me fucking wild," he says, giving me a playful little slap on my ass for emphasis, soft enough to make me bite back a smile while still sharp enough to be felt through my petticoats, wrenching a squeaky little yelp from my lips.

"A semi-public spanking on the stairs, Warchief? It's not exactly what I was aiming for, but you're certainly getting warmer…"

"Am I now? Well, if I could string two damn thoughts together, I reckon I'd be getting hotter. Gotta be something else I can do about that need of yours, right? All the way up here, nobody to see what we're on about? If only I could put my… fingers on it…"

My eyes flutter closed, every nerve in my body lighting up as his grip on my ass tightens, the thick, rough fingers in question curling around my hip. He had me well in hand before, but now I'm positively ensnared, trapped in the steel of his grasp. The shift in pressure nearly does me in then and there as my slick folds part, drenched satin panties sliding over my swollen clit, making that soft little moan I'd swallowed bubble back up; too big, too loud to contain. It's his other hand that finally tears it from my lips though, the one that slides under my skirts and skims hot, calloused fingers up my bare thigh, the one that finds me wet and waiting.

"Godsdamn, Orlagh, you're fucking dripping…"

Rok inhales sharply, cupping my cunt, the heel of his palm pressing down exactly how I like it, the pressure on my center increasing as he drags his entire hand down and up and then down and up once more, flat and firm, practically making my eyes roll back into my head.

"And whose fault is that?!" I whimper as he circles my clit with four fixed fingers, immobilized hips longing to buck against them but stuck fast in his iron grasp. "I wasn't exaggerating when I told you I was absolutely desperate for you to fuck me on this cloak of yours, the one I've been impatiently staring down at for twenty minutes with your hands all over my?—"

My voice cracks as Rok slips his fingers beneath the soaked satin, teasing at my entrance. One thick finger slides inside me, then another, and another, and all I can do is allow my body to fall forward, resting fully on his shoulder once more as he resumes our climb, my moist, hot breath beating against the bearskin fisted in my hands.

Anyone down below could look up and see this discreetly indiscreet finger fucking Rok's giving me at any given second, and though it certainly would be hard to discern the particulars at this height, under these skirts… the knowledge does nothing but fan the flames of desire licking along my arching spine, pebbling my nipples, slicking my thighs even more. Every step takes us higher, takes me higher, rocking me forward and then back onto his fingers, then forward and back again, again and again and again, that snaking heat coiling tightly within me, closer and closer to combustion with every one of his slow, heavy footfalls.

"Oh… oh goddess, I think I'm—oh, Rok!"

A shaking orgasm shudders through me, and then my eyes are rolling back into my head as his thumb finds my clit and a second sunburst follows. I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying and nearly failing to keep the rest of my contented cries from echoing out over the ever-shrinking sea of cast and crew below as I ride out the wave, cunt fluttering around Rok's fingers. Not that anyone would bat an eyelash if they did happen to notice what we were doing—well, no one who wasn't already very obviously put out by my mate being completely oblivious to their presence, at least.

I know I told Rok that I was picking up horny vibes all over the place here—and dripping them everywhere myself, I'm sure—but what I didn't tell him was that most of the vibes being directed our way were in appreciation of him. I mean, we're circling up the last few steps of this iron staircase and there are still a handful of cast and crew members craning their necks, draping themselves strategically about and hoping to get noticed while he's literally carting me off to his dressing room like a warchief with his spoils, fingers curled deep inside me.

"I still ain't sure I didn't dream you up, Orlagh Skylark. I thought you were wet before, but fuck… now you got me hobbling up these steps on three legs, trying to keep my thoughts in line long enough to sort out what I need to say… well, hells, hope you won't fault me for having a taste, think I deserve that much…"

He slides his fingers out, dragging them over all the spots that make me quiver, and the wet, slurping sounds of him licking up my release with the kind of fervor he reserves for late night feasts between my thighs strangles a quiet moan from my lips.

"I swear to Solstra, I can and I will fault you, Rok'nhar," I breathe, bosom bosoming so hard that one of my nipples is threatening to pop out of the top of my bodice. "Especially if you don't throw me down on this cloak and fuck me the very second we get inside that dressing room and finish talking."

"Is that what you're worried about? Well, look here," he grunts, finally reaching the top of the steps and re-securing me in his iron grasp before venturing out onto what I quickly discover is a very narrow catwalk, made of the same rickety iron as those stairs we just crested. "You see that door down there, peaches? The very last one?"

"I can't see with my feet you kn?—"

I shriek as this insanely nimble and athletic orc of mine spins in place—the entire world along with him, I might add—and walks us backwards along the narrow, precarious path, not even breaking stride.

Heights may be enjoyable in certain situations… but we are very, very high up, and I'm dangling off of Rok's shoulder with nothing but a scant stretch of iron grating beneath his feet and some flimsy handrails that look older than the sun herself beside us. Still… this is a view of the theater that most never get, so even though I'm kind-of-sort-of-completely terrified, I take a steadying breath and take the opportunity to marvel at the intricate web of ropes and pulleys and giant iron beams stretching out over the stage and farther out into parts of the arena. Lights dangle in iron cages backstage and beyond, dim little stars imprisoned out amongst the colossal curtains and cables and counterweights. To the right of all that organized chaos is a balcony of sorts; the royal suites, nestled into a landing with six doors, all lined up like little closet-sized motel rooms.

"Okay. Doors. A door. Yes. I see it. Lovely, lovely door. Now turn around and watch where you're walking!"

"Fine, fine," he chuckles, spinning us back around before clearing his throat, that iron grip just as secure as it was before we started across this path. "Anyway, just know that we ain't even going through it till we're done talking, till you know what you're gonna be getting into."

"Oh, I think we both know what I'm going to be getting into, and it's absolutely those tight leather pants…"

"That's a given, sunshine, but first I gotta…" His voice is suddenly veryserious, dropping an entire octave, and my heart drops right along with it. "I gotta warn you about something."

I swallow thickly, a lump forming in my throat. "Warn me?"

"Yeah, it's just, well…" Rok takes a deep breath, pausing a moment before he speaks again, and once he does, I can hear that lopsided smile curling around his tusks, hear that low drawl of his back in familiar, teasing territory—the same teasing territory I'd led him to after the show with my own false warning. "Once you walk through that door… you're mine."

Oh, goddess help me.

Mine.

A shiver runs through me at the dark promise of that word on his lips and the hot, demanding glow I've been grappling with all day pulses to life within me, sunbeams snaking around the base of my spine and coiling low in my belly once more, my entire body awakening, thrumming and alive with anticipation and desire and need.

I think about reminding him that I'm already his once he gets us to the landing, when those gigantic, rough hands encircle my waist, squeezing possessively. I think about reminding him that he's already mine once he eases me off of his shoulder and closes the distance between us, pushing me against the door and cradling the back of my neck, fingers threading through Dolly's cascading blonde curls. But then he drags his lips down the shell of my ear, tip to lobe, and I stop thinking about anything and everything that isn't here and now and him, eyes fluttering closed, thighs squeezing together.

"Mine, sunshine. It ain't gonna be the romantic setting I'd hoped, but I'm gonna fuck you again, and again, and again. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't remember a time when I wasn't fucking you, until your legs are fit for nothing more than a pretty little dessert dish and a big old dollop of a whole different kind of cream than you're about to get served cause they're just so godsdamn wobbly."

"You're torturing me," I moan, dragging my mouth up along his neck, across his cheek, leaving a hot, wet trail as I race to devour those full lips before he straightens back up and they're out of my reach, capturing them in mine and feeling that lopsided grin I love curl around his tusks against me once again. My eyes narrow as I pull back, both unsurprised and full of mock-indignation at the self-satisfied amusement I find plain on his face. "Wait, are you… oh, you're totally getting off on this, aren't you? Is that what you want to tell me, that you've got some kind of secret sex-withholding denial kink? Because I swear to Solstra if I'm holding myself back just so you can talk about messes and orbs and what a slob Haf is again…"

"Hey now, I just wanted you to be prepared! You're the one who went and fell in love with a clean freak, and since I didn't pick up after that fucking layabout like I normally do, well, I figured you oughta know why I didn't want to go scrambling around for that orb with both of us all stuck together from that bitterbeet slurry and corn syrup, why I was begging a couple charms off of?—"

"Wait, wait, wait," I say, shaking my head and blinking up at him incredulously. "Begging?!"

I have to force out a laugh because begging is the absolute last word I'd use to describe what he's referring to.

All he had to do was flash those tusks while we were stuck waiting to get through all that backstage madness, just like he is now, and the costume mage he's referring to practically fell at his feet. She'd pranced right over to us, pushing aside a couple of vocally miffed elves in the process, her hands lingering just a moment too long on Rok's thickly muscled arm before reluctantly and so very briefly pressing the tip of her wand to the sole of my shoe, somehow exacting the same spotless results.

Rok's still looking at me like he has no idea what I'm talking about, and I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Oh, please, that faun's fluffy little tail was practically helicopteringwhen you called her over. Between that and her fluttering eyelashes, I'm surprised she didn't fly herself up here after us, asking if you needed a hand getting undressed."

"What… what are you on about? You mean Gina?"

"Yes Gina. Are you really telling me you didn't notice?!"

I can tell by the gob-smacked look on his face that he didn't. I know Rok has had to endure some crushing interactions while performing, ones that probably did nothing but give a false confirmation to all the negative, self-deprecating thoughts he's told me he's struggled with for most of his life, but seriously? The orc is absolutely blind to literally anyone and everyone around him, everyone but me it would seem, which… well, which suits me just fine, actually, because he really has been surrounded by admirers all night—some bolder than others.

Much bolder.

The audience loved him, of course, because he is absolutely spectacular on the stage. Creatures from every section were rooting for Grok'hal—even the ones that were supposed to be crushed on behalf of their wronged king and queen. Two different orcs and one minotaur actually flashedhim during the show, drawing the attention of a couple of harried looking security wizards, and that was just what I witnessed on the extremely rare occurrences where my attention was briefly diverted from him. Rok was just so… magnetic out there, from the way he spoke to the way his body moved, all of it enhanced by how totally oblivious he was and is to his own charms. I mean, come on. The easy command of his presence, that smile? Sweet sunrise, he oozed sex appeal out there, and while that concept was certainly nothing new to me, the reality of the sheer amount of strength, responsibility, and talent my mate displayed to carry this production on his delectable shoulders was—though it certainly didn't surprise me, just hastened the rate in which these historically inaccurate panties I'm wearing were soaked clean through, solidified my decision to tell him he was my mate during the show, and how much I loved him after.

Once we were backstage—sun above, but being stuck down there for far too long was torture, what a madhouse—I could see how well-loved he was at work; how often he was recognized, how often people went out of their way to get a high-five, congratulate him on his performance, be near him. Plus, I had a super unique view of the never-ending barrage of post-show ass-slaps that came from so very many of his castmates—two fae in particular doubled back for seconds—before everything with that shameless flirt of a costume mage.

And then, of course, there was Yenni.

A pretty human, and sweet, sure, but cloyingly sweet, like cough syrup or supermarket bakery buttercream or that cheap lilac and gooseberry perfume she was wearing. Once I'd had my fill of her glaring daggers up at me, of her somehow always managing to press herself up against Rok's side no matter where we moved to in the mass of bodies backstage, I dug deep into my tool chest of wealth and privilege to raid the waspish social skills I'd acquired amongst the elite in Fair Isle, donning my most unassuming smile and putting her in her place with a dizzyingly direct barrage of undercutting, yet absolutely proper, small talk. I'm not proud to admit that it felt good to watch her face crumple as she put a little space between us, but… well, it felt pretty fucking good.

Even that didn't bother me as much as the costume mage did, though. I wasn't jealous, not exactly, but… well, seeing her hands on Rok just made me so ridiculously angry, made me want to strip him bare and brand every inch of his evergreen skin with my hands, my lips, my cunt, which… which is absolutely jealousy, isn't it?

Sun above, the things this orc does to me…

"Can't say I did notice, sunshine, but that ain't exactly my fault," he mumbles, brushing one of Dolly's curling golden strands out of my eyes. He straightens to his full height, bracing one of his enormous hands on the doorframe with genuine adoration crinkling the corners of his eyes, softening his smile. "Hard to see much of anything else when you got the sun shining right in front of you, ain't it?"

My breath catches in my throat, a different kind of warmth blossoming between my lungs, deep in my chest.

Goddess, he's sweet. Handsome and kind and strong and sweet…

I couldn't be more in love with Rok if I tried, and there's no doubt in my mind that he loves me, has… loved me. A true mate and partner, one who doesn't expect me to be anyone but myself, doesn't want to own me or control me, and certainly isn't in this relationship with one foot already out the door; he's just… mine. Mine to love, mine to care for and claim, mine.

And I'm his, irrevocably so.

The way I feel about him, about this connection we share… it resides in that same sacred space that dusk and dawn do, snuggled unapologetically alongside sprouting seeds and falling leaves and the glittering grasp of sunrise by the sea, comfortably nestled beside everything that just is and was and always will be.

Honestly, I'm not sure what's crazier: how quickly all of this has escalated—goddess, it's barely been over a week—or how quickly I've accepted and kind of… normalized it all? Normalized the idea that Rok is my mate, that this hot, carnal insanity is just part of some mating bond I don't actually know a thing about, that sunbeams are surging beneath my skin and everything is kind-of-sort-of-completely-and-totally out of my control. But, sun above… what other option do I have? What other option is there when I can feel the truth of it—all of it—in every beat of my heart, and every beat of his as well?

I sigh, the clarity and depth of my feelings bringing me some much needed perspective as I resign myself to doing whatever it takes to forcibly hold back this inferno building between us, to talk about anything he wants, everything he wants, no matter how vehemently my needy body may protest my decision.

"Alright, Warchief—your irresistible charm has lived up to its irresistibility and given me the strength to chase my insatiable lust away, at least momentarily, so let's talk."

"Yeah, I…" He clears his throat, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times. My gazes travels along his tensing jaw before he looks down, worrying at his tusks like he always does when he's nervous.

"Rok," I smack him lightly on the chest before gripping the leather strap straining against his pecs, tugging him down sharply, "out with it! I don't know how long we have before this mating bond has me humping your shoulder again or something."

Every muscle in Rok's body goes rigid as his eyes snap back up to mine, pinning me in place and catching me completely off guard with the seriousness of his expression. Tension creeps its way across my shoulders, down my arms, stopping my hands in their tantalizing trek across his belly. My fingers still in the soft, dark hair dusted across there, his ragged breath warm against my face.

"Before... before what, now?"

There's been a super strange shift in the tension between us, one that has me feeling weirdly off kilter and… more than a little confused. The bustle and noise from down below was already little more than a distant hum from way up here, but now? I swear to Solstra, Rok is audibly squeezing the life out of yet another doorframe in my presence, and I can hear my heart hammering in my chest—or is that his?

I search his eyes, looking for some kind of clue, finding none, nothing to stop me from rambling nervously as I try to get a grip on what's changed between us, or at least blabber us past this weirdness and back to that fun, flirty place we were at.

"Did I… did I say something wrong, or…? Oh goddess," I wince, "is… is calling it a mating bond super antiquated or inappropriate or something? I don't really have any context for any of this outside of my internet searches—which admittedly left a lot to be desired, especially since everything, like ev-er-y-thing, somehow always kept leading me back to porn?—but I just assumed that's what's been going on since last night, maybe before that honestly, but it's definitely what's going on between us now, isn't it? Maybe I shouldn't have assumed and just asked you about it? It just seems like that has to be what's happening, right? Especially since it's only gotten stronger since I came to the show, and since you said you felt it too, and?—"

"—hang on now; I'm confused, sunshine. You do know we couldn't be feeling the effects of any kind of a mating bond unless you and I were…"

"…unless we were mates? Rok," I laugh, pulling my head back to regard him, brows drawn together, "we are mates, so I guess it's my turn to be confused. Why are you acting like this is news to you?"

"Orlagh," his tusks practically fall to the floor, blue eyes wide, "because it sure as hell is news to me!"

I gape at him for a moment before a small, breathless laugh bubbles up and out because he's got to be messing with me again.

Right?

"Okay… I get it—nice try, but I'm not falling for it this time, not when I told you that you were my mate in front of an entirearena. You even called me your mate," I say, jabbing my finger playfully into his chest to punctuate my words, "and I've been blabbing about it to everyone I meet, right in front of you. Your boss, Pete, Gina, literally anyone and everyone else who would listen while we were stuck waiting around down there."

"Grok'hal," he chokes out, dragging a hand over his tusks and down his jaw, looking at me like he's never seen me before, "I thought it was all for Grok'hal, the show. Thought you were just doing a bit of improv like with Thandriel and the elves, all that peach stuff, but…"

I search his face, waggling my eyebrows and biting back a smile, waiting for him to break until I realize… he's not breaking. Sun above, he's not messing with me, and he's actually really shaken up. "Oh, goddess… you're… you're serious? You're not joking?"

He shakes his head no, back to worrying his tusks, and my whole body seizes up again. "I thought you were."

Shit, shit, shit.

And here I thought I'd totally nailed that reveal during the show, that he'd just normalized and accepted everything as quickly as I had, that telling him how much I loved him and how badly I wanted him took precedence because he was blinded by this palpable heat between us too, that he already knew it all on some level or something since orcs revere mates and Rok is nothing if not a wonderfully hopeless romantic…

"I'm really… goddess, I'm so sorry, Rok. I was just so caught up in the show, in everything, that I guess I assumed?—"

"—how can you be sure?" he whispers over me, voice tight with urgency, one of his massive hands curling gently around my hip and pulling me close, relinquishing his splintering grip on the frame with the other to cradle my face, thumb absently caressing my cheek. That darkness that had been lurking in his eyes changes to something else, something bright; hopeful. "That I'm… that you're my… my mate, I mean? It's what I was planning on talking to you about now, you know. What I've been agonizing about all night. Before that, even. Because I hope you know that I really do think you might be my mate."

"You think I… might be?"

"That's just it, I don't know, do I? Spent my whole godsdamn life thinking I couldn't without…" he blows a short, frustrated breath through his nostrils. "It ain't that I don't know how I feel about you, sunshine. There are these standing stones, back in Brok'hal? I thought you had to get married, had to seal your union there and that the bond can't?—"

"—it's the glowing," I breathe, my turn to talk over him, because I certainly don't need a stone to know the truth of this, and neither does he. I lock into his cerulean gaze, that heat sparking to life between us once more; a tidal wave of tension rising within an ocean of need. "There's this old children's fable and… I just, I thought more about when it started, about Tal's reaction, and it made sense. Then when I was out with Brix last night, before we left the Barbarian? She was showing off her abilities, and when they didn't affect me like they were supposed to, she mentioned an old professor of hers, an old mated professor, and it was like when she said mate everything just kind of… clicked. I wanted to tell you when we got back, but then…"

"Then Jex," he says, voice flat and hard over the name, his grip on me tightening absently, protectively, but not uncomfortably. "And then… then I invited our friends to stay and eat…" Realization dawns on his face, a mixture of awe and joy and disbelief dancing across his strong, sharp features before that heavy, ridged brow of his furrows. "That's what you wanted to talk about, then? When you said you weren't sure about something, before Haf jumped in and we got our wires all crossed?"

I nod, biting my lip. "I wanted to tell you, it just… well, it all just got so confused."

"Fucking Haf…"

"Yes, fucking Haf. Although… I'm actually really grateful for that big nepo baby? I'm sure Brix could have gotten us home, but with how… how dangerous Wolf and his pack actually are… I don't think we would have walked away without at least one of us getting hurt, if not both. And I'm not even mad at Haf for telling you what happened when I was being so evasive about everything. I was so drunk and full of adrenaline and horny, and just… really, really overwhelmed by everything I knew we needed to talk about. That's why I got so pissed at you, because you were right; I wasn't in the right frame of mind."

"I wasn't exactly a paragon of good behavior myself, now was I? Not after pacing and worrying myself into a fucking frenzy the whole time you were out of my sight. Come to think of it… how in the hells was Haf the most well-behaved out of all of us last night?"

"Right?! He kind of kept everything from going to hell at the bar, and then again at the apartment… it makes it really hard to be mad at him for bailing on you. Which is really, really annoying to admit."

"Sure as hell is," Rok laughs. "And besides… if he hadn't played that nepo card tonight, well, we wouldn't be here, would we?"

"Well, not exactly here, no. We'd be having a totally similar conversation over the most delectable combination of cheese and nuts and herbs that you've ever tasted, and you'd be revoking your previous statements about the Pie Cart being better than Geraldo's."

"You know I'm the one out of the two of us who actually cooks, right? A professional chef? Think you'd trust that I know a thing or two about good food, and believe me when I tell you for the thousandth time that Pie Cart is the best damn pizza in this entire city, no contest."

"No contest? How can you say that when you've never even been to Geraldo's?!"

"Once you've had the best, you know it."

"Oh, no, nope. You're not gonna sweet talk your way out of this one, Rok'nhar. Sweet Solstra, are we going to make history as the very first pair of mates ever to fall apart over pizza?"

"Mates…" he breathes, looking at me like he's doing it for the first time. "And you're sure?"

"Aren't you? I mean, I know your clan has their traditions, but… I can feel the truth of it. I thought you could too, or that you'd at least be… happier? That you were happier."

"Oh, Orlagh. I am happy, truly. But up until this week I didn't even entertain the thought of trusting this feeling in my gut without standing at the stone, without binding hands and bonding lives and all that. But my Mama called, the day you went to the insurance office? She told me…" His voice catches as he turns his head to the side, swallowing hard.

"Hey…" I rock up onto my toes, stretching to grab one of those giant bearpaw pauldrons and tug him down to my eye level, wiping a tear from his warm, smooth cheek.

"Fuck, this is embarrassing. Must look like a fucking fool, all draped in furs and armor, crying like a godsdamn orcling…"

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Not with me."

"Suppose you're right," Rok sniffs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to mine with a sigh. "I've just been so fucking torn up about this, you know? Worried about scaring you off right after you'd finally found your way into my life, especially after all that with the keys, stepping on your toes with the paint, everything. It's been fast for me, after all; must feel twice as fast for you."

"It does," I admit, biting my lip. "I was definitely struggling with it before I realized what you are to me, what you mean to me. I'm sorry that I didn't open up about it sooner, either. But I'm not scared anymore, and I'm not going anywhere—so tell me now."

For a moment he's silent, but then he lets out a slow breath as he straightens up, pulling me in for a hug and wrapping his arms around me. I rest my chin on his belly, looking up at him, and he runs his hands up and down my arms as he speaks. "My whole life I grew up dreaming about finding, well… you. Wanting so badly to find my mate, just like Mama found hers. And when she called, well, she knew right away that I was tusks over toes for somebody. We started talking about you, about love and mates, and turns out… turns out her and daddy never got sealed. He wasn't pulling a job or some shit when he got himself… when he…"

Rok trails off, looking away, a muscle working in his jaw as he swallows thickly.

He'd told me about his father as we walked along the promenade on our second date, after I'd told him I didn't have one, not really, just a jet-setting alcoholic I'd only spoken a handful of words to my entire life, and only ever when he was forced to show up and smile for the cameras on my mother's campaign trail. Rok revealed that his father's crimes and death had been a terrible stain on the clan tapestry; a stain that his grandfather resented both him and his mother for, one that everyone could see but no one was allowed to talk about, and one that proved impossible for him to scrub off, no matter how hard he tried. He hadn't even known what his father looked like until he was well into grade school, making do with gossip and broken fragments of information he'd picked up from schoolmates and teachers and his mother and grandmother. His grandfather had let the hate and disapproval of the father trickle down to the son; nothing had ever been good enough to earn the old, ornery orc's approval or affection. He'd had his grandmother, at least, and his mother—when she wasn't slipping back to that dark place she'd fallen into after his father killed the high elder's eldest son and got himself killed in the process, that is.

My heart broke for him then, and it breaks for him now just thinking about how difficult that must have been as an orcling, especially one as kind-hearted and eager to please as Rok surely was.

"I remember. But what does…"

"It was my mama's old beau who he killed, I guess, and one of the clan elders who killed my daddy; laws are pretty cut and dry there, blood for blood, and a life for a life. She said… she said it was the mating bond that made him lose control, though, that not sealing it does things to you, and… well, I've been so close to the edge, so many times… I think I might just believe her."

"Oh, Rok…"

"And now? Now I should be walking on air, but all I can think is that if we don't go stand in front of that stone, get sealed… that I'll be just like him. Like my daddy, like Wolf, exactly the kind of reckless, macho asshole I've tried so hard not to become my whole damn life."

"Impossible."

"Is it, though? You've seen it, seen that… that rage that keeps cropping up, especially with all this shit happening with your ex. What if I snap? And worse than that, worse than actually turning into that kind of monster… what if you start lookin' at me like that's just what I am?"

I grab the sides of his face, focusing all my attention and love on him, willing him to hear and feel the truth and conviction of my words. "Listen to me, Rok'nhar—to your mate. You are absolutely nothing—nothing—like the worst parts of your father, nothing like Wolf. I don't have to know anything about mates to know that finding each other hasn't changed who either of us are deep down."

My eyes close as I brush my hose softly against his, the tension in his jaw and brow melting away against me as I tilt my chin up for a kiss. We're lost in the slip and glide of our lips in no time at all, mouths and arms and hands getting hungrier by the second until we're both panting, the beat of his heart pounding in time with mine.

"Gods, but I love you, Orlagh. How in the hells did I get so lucky?"

"Well, you're about to get even luckier," I whisper, snaking my arms around his neck and leaping up into his arms, legs hooking around his torso. "Once you open that door and walk me through it, I'm yours, remember?"

Our lips crash together again, mouths slanting and locking together like two oddly sized but perfectly matched puzzle pieces.

"How could I fucking forget?" he moans into my mouth between kisses, staggering forward and fumbling with the door handle until it swings open behind me. "You ready for me to walk you through this doorway then, peaches?"

"We're really doing things backwards, aren't we? I mean, we're mates, but we're still next door neighbors, and now you're carrying me through a threshold before you've even gotten down on one knee."

Rok raises an eyebrow, looking at me in a way that sends shivers down my spine. "You want me on one knee, you got it. I'm already yours, sunshine, body and soul. Have been for some time."

"Mine," I say, releasing my hold on Rok's shoulders to press my fingers into my enchanted wig like Lhysa taught me, offering up a silent apology to Dolly as I toss her blindly over my shoulder into the room behind us. That feral heat is taking hold, snaking sunbeams on the warpath once more as I shake out my hair. "You are mine, aren't you? And as for what I want…"

"Oh, I know. You want me to fuck you on this cloak the second we walk through that door."

I loosen the straps of his chest armor, hands stilling on the clasp of his bearskin cloak.

"Oh no, I don't think so," I say, biting back a smile. "You're not going to fuck me on this cloak—I'm going to fuck you."