Page 15

From My Orc Contract Husband

“Are you sure about this?” murmured Aswan under his breath from his place by my side in the front of the human church. “It seems sudden.”

Without glancing at him, I could imagine the concern in his eyes. “You’re just saying that because you and Hannah took your damn time getting around to Mating.”

“Yes, but this isn’t a Mating.”

From Aswan’s other side, Sakkara rumbled, “Isn’t it?”

I dragged my gaze from the door at the back of the church to slam into our leader’s. Sakkara had leaned forward slightly so he could see around Aswan, his expression carefully neutral. When he knew he had my attention, he raised one brow in challenge.

And I straightened my shoulders, my attention flying back to the door through which Sami— my bride —would soon step.

She was going to be my wife.

Not my Mate.

And that was okay.

“You’ll notice he didn’t answer,” murmured Aswan.

“That’s because he’s not sure what he’s doing.”

I’d asked Aswan to stand beside me for my wedding because apparently it was a human tradition to pick favorite friends and honor them by making them wear uncomfortable suits and possibly marry the bride if you chickened out. Aswan couldn’t marry Sami, since he’d Mated Hannah over the summer, but he was the most supportive of the males I knew.

And I’d asked Sakkara because he was responsible for me being on Eastshore Isle…and because he already owned his own damn suit.

I shifted uncomfortably in my new suit—Sami had insisted I buy one, and I figured if she was willing to marry me, this was the least I could do—and did my best to ignore the doubt my friends were trying to instill.

Or maybe not.

“Sakkara, surely you have access to some property for Tark?” Aswan really did sound concerned. “He’s only going through this because she’s his realtor.”

“Not true,” murmured Sakkara in return. “He’s going through it because the bank won’t loan him enough without a second income, so he had to find and marry the richest damn woman on the island?—”

Forgetting the organ music, forgetting the dozen or so people scattered through the church, forgetting the holy man who’d been waiting patiently all this time, I whirled on my friends with a snarl.

“Why do my reasons matter so much to you?”

Neither one of them reared away from my anger.

“Because we care about you,” Aswan said gently, one hand reaching up to rest gently on my shoulder. “And we don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

Like marry the most stunning woman I’ve ever met? A woman who made my Kteer purr and had my cock throbbing with need, just thinking of claiming her? A woman whose dry sense of humor made me laugh, and who was willing to take a chance on a future—no matter how temporary—with me?

A woman who needed me ?

Maybe the other male read something in my expression, because Aswan gently squeezed my shoulder, then dropped his hand with a nod. “Never mind.”

Sakkara shifted his weight. “This is about the foster system, isn’t it?”

I reined my expression back to neutral and straightened, turning back toward the pathway Sami would soon walk down. How had he guessed?

When Aswan hummed in question, Sakkara explained under his breath. “The state foster system prioritizes married couples?— ”

“Shut up,” I growled, not sure I wanted them to examine my reasons right before I made such a big change in my life.

“But you took Emmy—” Aswan began.

“That was different, because she was half-orc,” Sakkara explained. “Tark feels as if he needs?—”

“ Shut up ,” I hissed again.

The holy man, the one in the ill-fitting suit behind me, cleared his throat, just as the music swelled.

And I was saved.

The door in the back of the church opened, and Sami’s best friend stepped through. At least, I had to assume it was Riven, because she was dressed in a pretty pink strapless gown—the color Sami told me she’d chosen for the “wedding theme,” whatever that meant—and carried a small bouquet in one hand and a white cane in the other, which she used to tap her way down the aisle.

Sakkara stepped forward and took her arm when she reached the front, and her flirtatious smile was charming.

I’ll admit that I wasn’t paying much attention to her, though.

Because the door had opened again, and then Sami was there, meeting my eyes.

She told me that it was tradition for fathers to escort their daughters down the aisle to their future husbands, but since her father’s death was what had put her in so much trouble already, she’d asked her aunt .

After all, Aunt Sharon was more family to her than her father had ever been.

The older woman wore a dress that was the same pink as Riven’s, although more demurely cut, and her smile seemed a little fixed, as if she wasn’t quite sure this was the right move for her niece.

Sami, on the other hand, never hesitated.

Her surety was one of the things I loved most about her; she knew what she was doing was the right thing, and I loved that confidence.

She walked toward me with her head held high and her shoulders back, that glorious golden hair sweeping down her back.

She’d chosen a pale green strapless gown for her wedding dress. I grinned, remembering how she’d said she wanted something practical, because how in the hells was this sparkly thing considered practical?

Maybe my grin was just what she needed, because I watched her jaw relax, and sensed the moment the tension in her shoulders eased. A small grin tugged at her lips, and I hoped she could sense that I wanted this.

Almost as much as I wanted her .

She needs you. You can save her. That’s the only reason she’s doing this .

And I would save her. From whatever danger threatened.

When they reached the front of the church, Aswan stepped forward to lead Aunt Sharon away, and then Sami’s hand was in mine. I stared down at this fragile little female who was the strongest I’d ever met, who’d chosen me to entrust her future.

At least, a year and a day of it.

“Ready, dkaar ?” I whispered.

I don’t know how the endearment slipped out. She wasn’t my beloved, and we hadn’t discussed having feelings for one another. This marriage was a contract, a business arrangement.

But she deserved some softness on her wedding day.

Sami’s chin rose again, and the light caught on the pale green stones she wore at her ear lobes. Peridot. I recognized it from my time in the mountains, and wished I had a stone to offer her for her throat. Wished I had anything to offer her.

But I was marrying her for money, so I couldn’t afford to gift her gems.

All I could offer her was my strength, my protection…and for a year and a day, my heart.

“Ready,” Sami murmured, her fingers tightening around mine.

I didn’t see hesitation, didn’t scent worry. My bride was certain this was the right decision.

And I would be too.

Taking a deep breath, I allowed her to lead me toward the holy man…and our marriage.