Page 28 of Loved By The Orc (Monster Orc Brides #4)
Negan :
A MERGING OF TWO clans was never supposed to happen.
From what the elders have said, those who remember our own planet, our own reality, it would never have.
Not in our own world, the world that we were flung from the day the portal opened and swallowed our people, spitting out Earthlings onto our land instead.
Often, I wonder about what happened to those peoples. Did those originals survive? Like us, did they merge with the community? I guess we’ll never know.
“Daddy!” Oshila, named for my father, screams for Varguk as her grandfather chases her. “Save me!”
Var sweeps our toddler into his arms as she looks back over her shoulder at my father, who doesn’t hesitate to step in and blow raspberries into the softness of her neck. The sound of baby giggles fills our ears.
“Here they come,” Cherovi says.
A sharp whistle pierces through the new town.
It’s a merged place, in the center of all our lands.
It stretches from Blackheart territory, down to Serenity, the land where our partner humans begin, encompasses Solaya, even stretches down to Creede.
All our lands are merged and free for our people to visit and roam as one.
We’re a united community of various cultures and people, all determined to live and grow in safety and numbers.
And if a village goes wrong, the way things had in Granby so long ago when my Aunt Joanna lived there?
The others step in to make it right again.
There is no discord among the Utees, or United Territories.
King Jacovi and King Brachard arrive first, followed by as many others who wish to enjoy the weeklong celebration. We hold it annually to allow everyone to visit each other in the annual reunion.
“Aye, there’s my dollface!” Brachard bellows, kissing my forehead quickly before holding out his arms to Var for our little one. And then I’m distracted by a horn from the trail of carriages that park.
“Vin, quit honking that blasted thing!” Grunalda yells.
Queen Aga is the first to emerge from the carriage, and helps out a very pregnant Shalia. Her mate, Bakog, follows behind the caravan of carriages on his steed, and he’s dismounting as fast as the carriage doors open.
And with Oshila giggling on Grumpy’s shoulders, he and my father hug.
“Come on, Brachin. Let’s go find your pals, eh?
” Jacovi says, smiling a greeting at his sister, Cherovi, and holding out his hand for Oshila’s twin brother, who peeks shyly from where he hides behind Cherovi’s legs.
My son, named for Grumpy Brachard, is attached to his Grandmum, but he holds out his pudgy hand for Uncle Jacovi.
All the other little boys follow behind King Jacovi, trying to remain somber in rows behind him, playing royal guard.
They’re so adorable with their cardboard swords and Blackheart gear, even though half of them are West Mountain droplings.
Long ago we discovered how dirty little boys get and the Blackheart leather is easier to wipe barbecue sauce from, so none of the fathers balk at the boys dressing up.
“Here, Brachy. I got you the best sword,” Bazur says. He’s a year older, Hisa’s son. He holds up a glittery blue sword.
“The girls all had an influence this year,” Var whispers in my ear. His palm reaches for the small of my back, cupping me possessively .
I grin, seeing the little girls merging in their own clique.
Some are dressed like warrior princesses, others wear little ballroom skirts.
No matter what they wear, they’re bejeweled in random colors of glitter…
that match all the swords belonging to the boys.
There’s an excessive amount and I know we’re probably going to find glitter in the most inconvenient of places for months to come.
“I don’t know how much Aunt Rosemary bought, but we seem to find the glitter all over the village,” Hisa says, her and Tok coming in for a hug. Behind them, Bakog is kissing Shalia’s cheek and moving her our way. “Even in the crack of my ass,” she whispers into my ear. I give out a short laugh.
Tok presses his forehead to Var’s in greeting and in unison, Hisa and I sigh. No one, in either village, has ever pointed out the tender way our males treat Var, knowing he’s never had this growing up.
But then Bakog ruins the moment.
“How’s our prisoner-guard?” Bakog says, slapping Var on the back of the head and purposely smacking his head into Tok’s.
“ Biernak !” Tok bellows at Bakog, who grins before the beast lifts him up in a bear hug like they don’t live in the same village.
A few feet away, Bazur giggles and I think I’m the only one who hears him whisper to Brachin. “Daddy said biernog .”
“ Biernog, biernog, biernog ,” Brachin sings, then looks confused. “Grumpy, what’s a biernog ?” Brachin asks Brachard, tugging his hand to get his attention.
I wince. Shally’s eyes grow wide and her mouth twitches, letting me know she heard it too.
“Var, have we thanked you for this idea of our annual reunion?” Shally asks my mate.
“Aye. Every year.” Var grins at her, his smile much more natural now.
And then Bakog is kneeling before Shalia, his mouth pressed against her pregnant belly, whispering to their unborn child the way he does. My heart goes gushy and soft .
‘Tis the human influence, those strong females teaching their sons to love their mates.
“You’ve enriched my life beyond belief,” Var whispers next to me.
I turn toward my male and cup his cheek. “You once told me you and me against the world. I knew you were using my father’s phrase to get into my pants.”
He grins wickedly. “I should have told you of my penchant for lip reading.”
“But my favorite phrase was my life for yours . Because I gave you mine too, Var. And look at what we created together by merging our paths.”
The new town, growing louder with laughter as others find and greet people that they haven’t seen in months.
The feeling of safety, security, and now comfort. The joys of new brats, with pudgy arms and curious faces. And glittery swords.
“I love you, Negan of the Blackhearts.”
“I love you, Var of the West Mountain Orcs. ”
Thank you for reading!
I hope everyone enjoyed the wrap up to this series.