Page 34

Epilogue Part II

H e 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.

“You're impossible,” I groaned, but it came out more like a moan, a soft surrender.

“Yes,” he said simply, dragging his mouth back down, tantalizingly close to where I wanted him most.

His large hands slid up, pushing the fabric of my tunic higher, exposing the soft curve of my stomach. I felt the rasp of his fingertips drag across my skin as he continued to inch the garment up, his mouth following the path his hands had set. He pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses over my navel, my ribs, my breasts, until finally, the fabric was gone, tossed aside with little ceremony, leaving me bare before him.

Vorgath pulled back for just a moment, taking in the sight of me sprawled out on the bed, his gaze smoldering as his breath grew heavy. His eyes traced over me slowly, lingering on the place where his mark stood out against my skin. In the flickering firelight, the scar was barely visible, a faint line just over my collarbone, but to orc eyes, it was unmistakable—a sign of his claim, his promise.

“You are...” He paused, leaning closer. “Beautiful.”

And like always, I believed him, not because of the words themselves, but because of the way he showed me—through every action, every touch, every heated gaze. It was there in the way his hands, rough with the strength of a warrior, softened when they reached for me. It was in the way he knelt before me now, kissing along my hip, reverent, determined.

His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as he lowered his head, and I felt the first touch of his tongue, a soft, gentle stroke that made me gasp and arch off the bed. Vorgath growled, pleased with my reaction, his grip tightening slightly as he held me steady, his tongue continuing its slow, torturous dance, each movement deliberate—savoring me.

I buried my hands in the sheets, trying to ground myself as my body trembled beneath his touch. He was always in control—steady, patient—but I felt wild, lost in the storm of sensation he was stirring within me.

“Vorgath, please,” I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper, but full of need.

He paused just long enough to smirk, his lips brushing against my sensitive skin as he murmured, “I thought you liked it when I took my time.”

“I—” My words faltered as he dragged his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes, and the world seemed to tilt around me. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. “I do.”

He chuckled softly, the sound dark and tempting, his hands sliding under me to pull me closer, even as his mouth continued its maddeningly slow exploration. I was caught between begging for more and luxuriating in the torment, lost in the heated tension. There was no urgency in his actions—only understanding. He knew me, knew what I needed, even before I did.

He slid one large finger inside me, and I moaned at the intrusion, my body clenching around him. He moved slowly at first, then faster, his finger curling and stroking in just the right way to make me see stars. He added a second finger, stretching me, preparing me. It was familiar now, the way he coaxed my body into accommodating his. The way we fit together.

And every time, it felt like the first.

I reached for him, wanting to feel the heat of his skin under my hands, to pull him closer, deeper. He growled low in his throat at my touch, his need mirroring my own. He withdrew his fingers slowly, deliberately, and I whimpered at the loss, but then he was standing again, removing his trousers, revealing the full, powerful length of his body. The sight of him—bared, primal, and utterly mine—sent a new wave of heat surging through me.

Vorgath climbed onto the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress, one hand braced beside my head as the other dragged up my thigh, spreading me wider beneath him. His deep, molten eyes locked onto mine, a question hanging there, though we both already knew the answer.

“Yes,” I whispered, breathless. “Now.”

That was all he needed.

He lined himself up, the familiar weight of him pressing against me, and with a slow, all-consuming stroke, he sank into me, his low groan mingling with the sharp gasp that left my lips.

Our bodies seemed to meld together as he filled me. Every inch of him pulsed with restraint, reminding me that even though we had done this countless times, it was never rushed, never taken for granted.

Vorgath stilled for a moment, his forehead gently resting against mine, savoring the way I clenched around him. His breath was warm, ragged, grazing my parted lips. He waited, allowing me to adjust, before slowly pulling back and thrusting forward again, setting a deliberate, torturously slow rhythm that drove every sensation deeper.

“Does this…” He exhaled sharply, his voice a strained rasp, “Feel good, durlan ?”

I couldn't form words, the pleasure locking up my ability to speak. Instead, I responded with a deep, needy groan that made his hips buck just a little harder. I reached up, my hands roaming the firm expanse of his back, tracing the scars and ridges of his skin. These were the marks of his past, of battles won and lost, each one a story that defined him. And now, I was woven into that story.

A part of him.

He thrust deeper, his movements building slowly, purposefully, and I felt the tightening warmth pool at the base of my spine, the pressure building impossibly higher.

“Vorgath, I’m—” I couldn’t finish, but he knew. He always knew.

His grip on my thighs tightened, rough hands pulling me even closer as he quickened his pace, the rhythmic slide of him inside me drawing pleasure from places I didn’t know could feel so alive.

“Yes,” he groaned, burying his face in my neck. “Now.” His pace quickened as he rolled his hips while thrusting deep, the raw intensity of him pushing me straight to the edge.

Pleasure spiraled out of me, engulfing my senses as my body convulsed around him. My back arched with a hoarse, breathless cry as the climax tore through me, waves of heat and sensation radiating from where we were joined.

Vorgath groaned deep in his chest, his pace never faltering as he chased his own release, his hips slamming against me. My hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as I rode out the aftershocks, my legs trembling on either side of him.

He finally stilled, burying himself to the hilt with a low, rumbling growl as his body shuddered above me. I felt the pulse of his release, his muscles tensing as he let go, collapsing softly against me, careful to support his weight on his forearms.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sounds of our ragged breathing, our bodies entwined, until he pushed himself off of me, collapsing onto the bed beside me.

I lay there, catching my breath, a lazy smile spreading across my face as I stared up at the ceiling. Vorgath’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer to his side, and I nestled into his warmth, savoring the comfortable silence that followed.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.

I hesitated, feeling the rush of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside me. I hadn’t planned on telling him like this, but now, tangled in his arms, the moment felt right.

“Just thinking about… expanding the house again.”

“Expanding?” He exhaled a deep sigh. “Didn’t we just finish the last project? What are you thinking about now?”

I placed a hand over my stomach, feeling the warmth beneath my palm as my smile widened. “Well… we’re going to need more space.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he was silent, staring at my hand on my belly. Then, as realization slowly crept in, his eyes widened.

“Wait… you mean…?” His voice trailed off.

I nodded, laughing softly. “Yes. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a second, he just blinked at me, his face frozen in shock. Then, he suddenly let out a booming laugh as he scooped me into his arms, pulling me onto his chest.

“A baby?” he repeated, his voice full of wonder and excitement. “By the Alders, durlan , we're going to have a baby?”

I giggled, feeling the sheer happiness radiating off him as he held me tight. “Yes, durnak ,” I said, showing off my limited orcish skills. “We're going to have a baby.”

He looked at me, his dark eyes bright with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice was filled with joy, and he gently pressed a hand to my belly. “I would have been—”

“More gentle tonight?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He gave me a playful growl, his tusks glinting in the moonlight as he grinned. “Maybe. But you didn’t seem to mind.”

I rolled my eyes, smacking his chest lightly. “I suppose you’re right.”

Vorgath chuckled leaned his forehead against mine. “A baby,” he repeated, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “I never imagined…”

I traced my fingers along his jawline, feeling the warmth in his skin. “Neither did I,” I admitted softly, “but it feels… right.”

His gaze softened, his hand resting over mine on my belly. “You’re already an incredible mother to Elias,” he murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. “This little one’s going to be so lucky. Just like I am.”

I grinned, my heart swelling at his words. “We’re all lucky,” I whispered, pulling him closer for a gentle kiss. “I can’t wait to see you with our child.”

Vorgath’s smile was radiant, and for a moment, we simply held each other, savoring the excitement and warmth that wrapped around us like a blanket. His large hand remained on my belly, as if he couldn’t tear himself away from the thought of our future.

Finally, he broke the silence. “So… about that expansion. We’ll need a much bigger crib than Elias ever had.”

I laughed, the sound filling the room, light and free. “Definitely.”

Vorgath smirked, eyes gleaming mischievously. “And perhaps we should make sure there’s room for more, just in case.”

I shot him a mock glare. “Let’s get through this one first.”

“Fine, one at a time,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my hair. His fingers lazily traced patterns on my back, his body warm and solid beneath me. “But now that I think about it, I like the idea of a full house.”

I smiled, closing my eyes. We lay there in comfortable silence, the soft breeze from the open window carrying the distant sounds of Elias’s laughter and Mrs. Crumble’s raised voice as they made their way back down the street. The warmth of home and the joy of our family was all I’d ever wanted, and somehow, I’d found more than I ever imagined possible.

I glanced at Vorgath, watching his eyes drift across the ceiling. Then, as if he could feel me studying him, his gaze slid over to mine.

“What are you thinking?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right away, his jaw shifting slightly as if he was working out something in his mind, choosing his words carefully. Finally, he answered, “I’m thinking… how strange it all is.”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “Strange?”

His hand, still resting on my back, began tracing slow circles. “For so long, I only knew how to tear things apart. Break them down.” His eyes flicked to the scarred knuckles on his other hand, a ghost of his past lingering in the way his thumb brushed over them absently. “It always felt like that was all there was for me. Destruction. I could cleave a man in two, raze a home to the ground… and it was easy.” His voice was raw, the words heavy. “But this, this …” He brought his eyes back to me, his hand pausing its gentle movement on my back. “Creating something. A life. A place that feels like… like it could last—”

He broke off, his throat tightening at the end, but it didn’t feel like fear. It felt like awe.

I lifted my hand to trace the edge of his jaw, feeling the faint roughness of stubble beneath my fingertips. “That’s not who you are now.” The words were soft, but they carried the weight of truth we had both come to understand. “You’re building. We’re building. And it’s strong.”

His dark eyes flickered across my face, and though the look of awe remained, it was now mixed with something deeper, something more certain. He didn’t have to say anything more. Neither did I.

There were no grand declarations left to make. We had already spoken with our hands, our hearts, every day since we'd met at that forge. No matter what came next, it would be ours. Built, not from stone or metal, but from something far stronger.

I pressed my lips to his chest, breathing in the burning warmth of the hearth from his skin—the scent of steel and ash, of earth and fire—inhaling the makings of home.

And for the first time in longer than I could remember, the future, whatever it was, didn’t feel like something to face. It felt like something that was already here. Lying beside me in the flickering light, with dusk deepening around us, and laughter echoing softly outside our window, against the call of the night.