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I gazed up at Vorgath, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. My breath caught at the endearment.Durlan. I didn't know what it meant, but the way he said it, low and reverent, made my skin tingle.

“Slowly,” I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. “And then not slowly at all.”

For a moment, he simply looked at me, his gaze roaming over my features as if committing them to memory. And as he did, something inside me settled—like an iron bar set into a molten forge, finding its place after being adrift in fire.

Why wasn't I hesitating anymore? Because... I was tired of hesitating. Tired of standing still at the edge of cliffs that terrified me.

I’d done that already. I'd been there when Elias was born, full of hope and love but also fear—fear of all the things I wouldn’t get right, the ghosts I couldn’t chase away. I'd stood at the edge as I held the crumpled letter that told me Kald was never coming home, and when I'd decided to take up his hammer, cold and brittle in my unsure hands, because I had no other choice.

This was another one of those moments, wasn’t it? A moment when life stretched into “before” and “after.” The kind where I stood frozen, knowing that stepping forward would change everything, but standing still felt even worse—the kind where there was no turning back.

Only this time, I wasn’t frozen in fear.

I wanted this. Him.

Vorgath, with his formidable strength, his scars, his quiet intensity. And underneath all that—layers more—his gentleness that could soften even steel. He made me feel safe, yes, but more than that, he made me feel alive. Like I was still capable of creating something, of building something new, something real.

Even after all that had been broken.

This wasn’t just about a touch or a kiss. This was about trusting that I could fall and Vorgath would be there to catch me. Maybe not with tenderness—though, it seemed he'd mastered that, too—but with a trust built on fire and force and...him. All of him.

I was ready now.

So, instead of waiting, instead of holding back... I leaned in.

And with a courage that felt both reckless and sure, I repeated, “Kiss me.”

A growl rumbled low in his throat, and his mouth descended on mine, slow at first, just as I had asked. His lips brushed against mine, warm and firm, holding back the storm he was clearly capable of unleashing.

And Seven save me... it wasn’t enough.

I tilted my head, gripping the front of his tunic, tugging him closer, pressing harder. “More,” I whispered against his lips.

His restraint shattered.

Vorgath’s hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me deeper into the kiss. He tasted like smoke and ale, but there was something else—something utterly him that made my knees weak. He kissed me like he was forging me into something new: deliberate, powerful, absolute.

His other hand braced against the wall behind me, his massive frame shielding me from the world beyond the alley. Heat radiated from his body, mingling with the warmth already coursing through me. His tusks brushed the corners of my mouth, a sharp contrast to the softness of his lips and beard, and it sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

I melted into him as his touch roved from my neck down my arm, the roughness of his callouses a reminder of the strength contained in his hands. Somehow, that made the gentleness he was still capable of even more intoxicating—a beautiful contradiction in every brush of his skin against mine.

My hands moved of their own accord, fingers gripping his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles ripple beneath his tunic as he held me close, as though afraid I'd disappear if he let go.

“Vorgath…” I whispered into his mouth, the word halfway between a plea and a prayer. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was asking for.

But he heard it, whatever it was, and growled in response—a low, reverberating sound that felt more like it belonged in his chest than his throat. His hand slid lower, tracing the curve of my waist and down, until it landed on my hip, fingers nearly spanning the entire breadth of it.

By the Alders, his hands could probably lift me without issue. I had no idea if I liked that or if it terrified me. Maybe both?

No, I definitely liked it.

Vorgath kissed me harder, tugging me closer, so close the only thing between us was the rapid rise and fall of my chest as I struggled to catch my breath. His thumb brushed the side of my throat, just below my jaw, sending a fresh wave of heat rolling through me—not that I wasn’t already burning, but this… this was a different kind of fire. This was the kind that sparked and flared until it consumed everything in its wake.

Then he pulled back, just an inch, his breath hot against my lips.

“Is this…” His voice was deep, rough, like he had to drag it from somewhere buried inside. “Is this what you—?”

“Yes,” I blurted, not caring what he was about to ask. I didn’t need a question. We didn’t need words right now. “Yes, just—don’t stop.”