Page 13 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

“With your permission, my king, I confiscated this from the soothsayer’s personal belongings. She claims it’s just a recipe book, but it’s full of spells and magic. There are faethling words.”

The tanned skin of the soothsayer’s cheeks paled. She held perfectly still, staring at the open grimoire.

“Her visions are magic,” Eydis reasoned. “Is it not to be expected she’d have spells? She might even have a fae in her lineage.”

“Fae are the enemy,” Ulrich growled. Again he turned to loom over the soothsayer, blocking her in.

Vallek’s feet moved before he could think, rounding the table carefully and drawing Eydis behind him. He wasn’t sure which he thought more of a threat—his own lord commander, a gleam of obsession in his eye, or the accused soothsayer, her shoulders rounding at Ulrich’s intensity.

“I am not an enemy,” the soothsayer said, her voice quiet but firm.

Ulrich’s upper lip peeled back, revealing the full length of his tusks. “You are a liar. A spy!”

Grasping her cloak, he ripped away the fabric, the brooch holding it closed flying across the room to clatter on the other side of the table. The soothsayer could only gasp before Ulrich held her up by the throat.

“Who are you?” he demanded, shaking her violently.

“Ulrich!” Eydis cried.

“Enough!” Vallek demanded.

But Ulrich was too lost to his rage, snarling up at the soothsayer.

He shook her again, her small hands clawing at his forearm as she dangled helplessly. Vallek stepped forward to stop—

Her face flickered . There and gone again. Leaving Vallek’s eyes with only the impression of the palest purple and stopping him short in surprise.

“I knew it!” Ulrich crowed. “Reveal your true face, snake!”

He shook her again, his fist clamping tighter around her neck.

Feet wheeling uselessly and her clawing hands ineffectual, the soothsayer’s bulging eyes clenched shut. From one moment to the next, her face changed.

Gone was the older human woman with lines around her eyes and graying hair.

In her place, Ulrich held a beautiful young woman by the throat. Skin a pale lilac, hair a dark, lustrous black. Eyes like violets snapped open, sparkling with rage, and her rosebud lips pulled back to reveal a set of little fangs.

Eydis cursed under her breath and Vallek—

Mate!

Vallek’s beast roared to life.

His own rage closed its jaws around him, and he was across the room, knocking Ulrich away. His second staggered back with a heavy oof , letting the woman fall from his grip.

Vallek caught her in his own grasp, his hands looking so huge against her slim shoulders.

His lungs worked like great bellows, and yet he felt lightheaded, all his blood rushing past his ears.

With every breath, her scent punched through him—incense and nighttime, jasmine and cloves. Sweetness and spice and female .

Big violet eyes stared up at him, rimmed in white and terrified.

No, no that wouldn’t do.

He needed her away from others. He needed her to himself.

Without word or warning, he ducked down to catch her middle with his shoulder. Throwing her over his back, he caught her behind the knees and turned for the door.

Vallek ripped open the lock, his hands shaking with haste, as Ulrich and Eydis tried to reason with him.

“My king, she’s dangerous!”

“Vallek, wait!”

But they and their concerns didn’t matter. Not when he’d found her . Not when he finally had her within his grasp.

Heart thundering, he could hardly discern between its pounding and how her little fists and feet beat against him. She was a wild thing, thrashing and spitting, her will to survive obvious and thrilling.

A strong mate. Good, very good.

He took the stairs up to his quarters three at a time, not slowing for anything—not the angry woman in his arms, not his sister and friend jogging behind him, not the startled looks of the servants they passed.

Vallek made his door long before any others and kicked it open—then shut it behind them. Flipping the lock, his beast rumbled with pleasure.

Alone with our mate.

Hands beat at the other side of the door, and he bellowed, “Leave us!”

Passing through the front chamber then central hall, under the archway into his bedchamber, he lost little time depositing his angry mate on his big bed. She bounced on the mattress, her dark hair spread across the silk bedding.

A purr rattled to life in his chest at the sight. Yes, this was exactly where she belonged.

She made herself smaller, less of a target, but those violet eyes burned with defiance. He suspected that if he got too close, she would bite.

A fresh wave of carnal need surged through him at the thought.

Fuck, he was hard just from the sight and smell of her—the idea of her sinking those precious little fangs into his arm nearly had him wetting his trou.

The orcish mate-bond was as revered as it was finicky.

They didn’t believe mates to necessarily be fated or decided by the gods, like the fae and the dragons did.

There was some level of choice in the matter, their bonds forming over a prolonged courtship.

Orcish mate-bonds were forged through time and connection, not just pheromones.

That was all well and good, but Vallek found himself in one of the rarer categories, not unlike what the fae and dragons must feel.

An immediate, searing knowing . An aching sort of need he’d never experienced.

She hadn’t even said anything, just glared up at him with those plush rosebud lips pursed, and already he was monstrously pleased.

He shouldn’t be, of course. This was a complication he didn’t need.

All his hopes of an orcish princess mate went right out the window—along with his sanity, it seemed, because he just didn’t care about any of it. The only thing he needed to know, the only desire that consumed him was—

“Your name?”

Those lips thinned further, as if she meant to deny him.

Oh no, no that wouldn’t do, either.

Leaning over her, he balanced his weight on an arm while he traced the pert point of her chin with the other. He shuddered to feel her soft skin, her pulse fluttering wildly at her elegant throat.

“I will have it, skala . It’s mine now, just like the rest of you.”

Those intelligent eyes narrowed, and she looked just like the clever raven he called her, with her dark hair and shrewd assessment. Her eyes measured his distance from her before flicking lower, gauging the distance to the door.

He chuckled low in his throat. “That isn’t wise.”

Her nostrils flared, and she searched his face for something. He didn’t know what. He wished to give it to her, whatever it was, but his instinct rode him harder with every heartbeat.

Claim. Conquer. Fuck.

Clear, simple needs.

The beast wanted her and didn’t care about the ramifications or what needed to be done.

Dipping his head lower, one of the many braids that held back the sides of his long mane fell onto her chest. The bead at the end glittered against her skin, and Vallek’s purr deepened. He wanted her to smell of him. Now.

But first, he needed a name.

“Your name. Please.”

It wasn’t quite begging, Vallek was too proud and not quite desperate enough for that yet. But he could be soft, if it got him what he wanted.

Her jaw worked against some unseen struggle before, reluctantly, she said, “Ravenna.”

The world around him spun, every instinct and desire refocusing on her. It was a harrowing ordeal, plans and wishes torn apart and remade in the space of a few breaths. His soul cried out against the violent realignment, but his instincts overrode all.

Until the bond was sealed, there was nothing and no one but her. Ravenna.

Lowering his head even more, he touched the tip of his nose to nuzzle hers. Orcs preferred nuzzles to kisses, what with the obstacle of their tusks, but the nearer he got, the more tantalizing that rosebud mouth became. Especially when she frowned at him so mightily.

“Ravenna,” he breathed. “My mate .”