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“What about you, Elias?” she asked. “I could use a young one’s quick hands. There’s a patch of sky-lights just past the edge of the trees, and my garden’s still crawling with those pesky wingstings.”

Elias’s face broke into a wide grin, his curiosity instantly piqued. “Can I, Mama?” he asked, already half out of his chair.

I hesitated. It was getting late, and despite Mrs. Crumble's watchful eye, I always worried when Elias ran off after dark. I opened my mouth to express my concern, but before I could, Vorgath leaned over the table.

“You have your heartstone?” he asked.

Elias tapped the bracelet around his wrist. “Always.”

“Off you go, then.”

In no time, the trio was on their way out, Elias trailing behind the elderly brownie and Lira with his bird tucked under one arm like a treasured keepsake. The door closed softly behind them, leaving the house in a comfortable quiet.

I stood and began gathering the bowls and plates into neat piles for washing. But just as I started toward the basin, I felt a familiar, looming presence behind me.

“Leave that for later,” Vorgath rumbled, his voice low and teasing as his hands slid around my waist, pulling me back against his firm chest.

I caught his hands, laughing softly. “Vorgath, stop. There’s so much to—”

But my protests were cut short as he lifted me off my feet, his hands firm but gentle beneath my thighs as he hoisted me into his arms. I squealed at the unexpected weightlessness, a laugh bubbling in my chest as I draped my arms around his shoulders, mock-protesting as he started toward the bedroom.

“You can’t—Vorgath, the dishes! The—”

“The dishes can wait,” he growled softly, his voice thick with warmth and that familiar intensity that sent a thrill through me every time. “You… cannot.”

Epilogue Part II

He carried me out of the kitchen and down the hall that led to the bedroom we shared. The doorway had been widened to accommodate his size, the ceiling raised just slightly, but the room itself was still as warm and welcoming as ever. A thick fur rug sprawled across the floor, and the bed—our bed—was framed by a carved wooden headboard. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting soft shadows on the stone walls.

Without warning, he tossed me gently onto the bed, his smile slow and wicked as he kicked the door closed behind him. I let out a breathless laugh, landing in a tangle of blankets and pillows.

Vorgath stood above me, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the soft light spilling in from the hall. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he rumbled.

“What have you been thinking about?” I asked, pushing up onto my elbows to look at him.

He tugged his shirt over his head. The firelight cast shadows across the hard planes of his chest, the defined curve of his muscles. Scars and tattoos painted his skin like a map of his life—a story I knew now but still longed to trace with my fingers, to soothe under my touch.

Vorgath's smile was slow, teasing as he stepped closer. “About having you here.”

“Like this?” I teased, letting my knees fall slightly apart.

“Yes,” he answered with a low growl. “But less clothes.”

He grabbed one of my feet and tugged me down the bed toward him, making me shriek. His fingers were deft, working quickly as he peeled the boot from my foot and dropped it onto the floor. The second followed just as swiftly, landing with a muted thud on the thick rug.

His hands trailed slowly up the curve of my calf, calloused palms grazing my skin in a way that sent heat winding through me. Then, with that same quiet intention, he began undoing the laces of my trousers and hooked his fingers into the waistband, gently tugging the fabric down my legs.

“Is this better?” I asked, my cheeks flushed as he pushed my legs apart.

He lowered his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee. “Much better,” he murmured.

His mouth continued its slow, deliberate path up my thigh, the heat of his breath setting every nerve alight. Each press of his lips was a promise, a tease—just enough to make me squirm beneath his touch but never quite enough to fully satisfy the growing ache inside me.

“Vorgath...” I breathed.

He paused his kiss, lifting his gaze to meet mine. “Patience,durlan,” he murmured.

Patience! As if that were something I could manage when every touch of his made me feel like I was coming undone. But I knew better than to rush him.