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“Let go,” he growled, his voice guttural, primal, sending a jolt of electricity straight through me. “I’ve got you.”

And by the Alders, hedidhave me—completely.

His words were like a lit match to the fuse of my desire, and with a sudden, violent rush, my body exploded into pure ecstasy. I came hard, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave, unrelenting and unforgiving. Every nerve ending ignited, every muscle clenched around him, gripping him tighter as the pleasure tore through me, raw and all-consuming.

“Vorgath!” I cried out as I arched against him, throwing my head back, completely lost in the moment. I could feel him growl into my skin, his own control unraveling, his hands gripping me fiercely as my tightening walls pushed him over the edge.

With a final, deep thrust, he groaned—a sound so primal and desperately male that it sent another rush through me. His body trembled beneath mine, his forehead pressing hard against my shoulder as he buried himself inside me, pulse twitching with every spurt of release.

He was silent for a long moment, apart from the heavy breaths that left him in uneven bursts, his body locked against mine. Then, slowly, cautiously, his grip on my hips loosened—his hands slipped to rest more gently on my sides, their possessiveness melted into something tender.

I let out a long breath, catching his scent, the smoky spice that clung to his skin, and the faint smell of iron that seemed ingrained into who he was. I shifted just enough to rest more firmly against his chest, the beat of his heart steady beneath my cheek. For the first time in what felt like years, maybe longer, theworld outside the walls of this room didn’t press down on me, didn’t demand or take anything more.

It was just us.

He curled an arm around me, and I couldn’t help but smile up at him as I brushed a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. A peaceful stillness softened the intensity that usually burned so fiercely behind those dark irises.

“I wasn’t too—” he began, but stopped, running a finger over my neck, a look of horror on his face.

“What is it?” I asked, pushing onto my elbows.

His gaze dropped back to the spot where his fingers hovered, then flicked back up to meet mine. For a moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t move.

“I hurt you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, thick with regret.

Hurt me? I frowned, confused.

But then his hand shifted, and I felt it—a hot, raw ache pulsing from the spot where his mouth had clamped down in the heat of everything.

I reached up and touched it with tentative fingers, wincing as a fresh sting blossomed beneath my touch. My fingers came away stained with a smear of blood, dark against my skin. I stared at it, surprised by the fierce tenderness that lingered beneath the pain. There was something powerful about it, something that went deeper than a wound.

“I didn’t mean to, Soraya,” he said quickly, his large hands falling to his lap, like the act of touching me was now out of bounds. “I—when things get heated, orcs, we… I should have been more careful.”

I leaned forward, placing both hands on his face. “Vorgath,” I whispered, bringing his eyes back to mine. “You didn’t hurt me.”

His brows drew together in disbelief. “But the bite—”

“I know,” I said gently. “I felt it. But Ilikedit.”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head as if he hadn’t heard me properly. “You liked it?” The disbelief in his voice wasn’t just flustered—he looked genuinely concerned for my sanity.

I smiled slightly, running my thumb along his jawline, tracing the scar that ran across his cheek. “Yes. We tend to get… passionate in the moment. I wasn’t expecting it, but you didn’t hurt me. In fact,” I added, my voice dropping to a whisper, “I wouldn't mind it happening again.”

His brow furrowed in that adorably perplexed way, but then, slowly, those dark eyes softened. He let out a low breath, almost like a sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing under my touch.

“Well, in that case,” he murmured, his voice still thick with hesitation but colored with a hint of teasing now, “I suppose I should warn you. Bites like that aren’t taken lightly in orcish culture.”

“What do you mean?”

“Among my people,” he began slowly, “a bite like that, especially during... intimate moments, is more than just an expression of passion.”

“Oh?” I couldn’t help but smile at the way his cheeks darkened, the green hue shifting slightly toward a deep, almost embarrassed olive. It was downright endearing.

He nodded, his tone cautious but sincere. “It’s a mark of… claim. Orcs are strong, protective by nature, but when an orc bites their partner like that, it’s a way of marking them as theirs.” He paused, narrowing his eyes as though assessing my reaction.

My heart, already thundering in my chest from our earlier activities, picked up pace again. Marked. Claimed.

“So… Anyone who sees this…” I touched the tender spot on my neck with a smile. “…will know I’m yours?”