Page 114 of Her Orc Protector

She nodded, accepting this wisdom. Then, with great seriousness, she reached out and touched Torrin's tiny fist with one finger. "My brother."

"That's right," I said, my throat tight with emotion. "And you're his big sister."

This designation clearly pleased her. She sat up straighter, her expression becoming protective. "I teach him things."

"I'm sure you will," I agreed, exchanging an amused glance with Uldrek over her head.

Leilan stayed for a few minutes, offering quiet congratulations before discreetly withdrawing. I heard her soft voice in the other room, presumably updating the others on the new arrival.

As the afternoon eased into evening, a peaceful quiet settled over the cottage. Ellie eventually dozed off at the foot of the bed, curled like a small cat with her flower crown listing to one side. Torrin slept in my arms, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Uldrek sat beside us, one hand on my shoulder, his thumb absently tracing the skin where my collarbone met my neck—right over the claiming mark.

I felt it then—a warm, gentle pulse beneath my skin. Not the sharp flare of magic it had once been, but something deeper, more settled. Like the steady beat of an old love song, familiar but never taken for granted.

Uldrek's eyes met mine, and I knew he'd felt it, too. The bond between us, quieter now but no less powerful, humming with life and connection.

"Thank you," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For this." His gesture encompassed the room, the sleeping children, and the life we'd built. "For still choosing me."

The words carried the weight of our history—all the times we might have walked away, all the fears we'd faced down, all the choices that had led us here. To this moment. To this peace.

I leaned forward and kissed him, soft and sure. "Thank you for giving me something worth choosing."

Outside the window, the last rays of the sun painted the room in gold. From the kitchen came the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of dishes as our friends—our family—prepared a celebration meal. The scent of fresh bread and spiced tea drifted in, mingling with the clean smell of the baby and the wildflowers in Ellie's crown.

I settled back against the pillows, cradling Torrin close, watching Ellie's peaceful sleep, feeling Uldrek's solid presence beside me. The claiming mark pulsed once more, a quiet affirmation.

Over a year ago, I had run from a man who tried to own me. I had fled in fear, with nothing but my daughter and my determination to keep her safe. I had hidden and protected and survived.

Now, holding my son while my daughter dreamed at my feet and my mate kept watch beside me, I understood the difference. I had known what fear felt like—how it narrowed the world to a knife's edge of survival.

This? This was something else entirely.

This was choosing. This was building. This was the steady certainty of being exactly where I belonged, with the people who belonged to me—not through ownership or control, but through the daily decision to stay, to see, to love.

This was the power I'd always had within me. The joy I'd finally dared to keep.