Page 3

Ruugar

I spotted her the moment she bolted out from behind the stagecoaches, the echoes of pursuit thrumming around me. I followed, keeping pace with her easily. Watching to see what she planned. Determined to help her if she had need.

Then she fell. One second, she was running, her wedding dress billowing around her, and the next, her arms had spiked out, and she'd disappeared into the dry gully halfway between the edge of Lonesome Creek and the first sorhox pasture.

My heart punched my ribs as I broke into a sprint, leaping down the small drop, terrified she might be lying on the ground, horribly injured.

She'd hit the ground hard, her bag tumbling away from her, landing a few feet beyond her reach. Dirt smudged her dress, and moonlight tangled with her hair. She groaned, trying to push up onto her hands and knees .

I knelt and gathered her into my arms, sitting and holding her against my chest.

She fought me, her tiny fists smacking my chest, aiming for my face and landing a worthy hit to my chin. She writhed like a caged beast.

I tightened my hold, though only to keep her from hurting herself. She needed to know I wouldn't allow anyone to harm her.

“Beth,” I said, my voice low. “It’s me. I’m Ruugar. An orc. You're safe.”

She bucked harder, twisting in my grip. “Let me go. I'm not going back.” Her snarl ripped out. “Please, no. I can’t marry Bradley. Can’t!”

“I'd never allow him to take you,” I said dryly.

Her struggles ceased. Her hot breath hit my skin. Slowly, she lifted her head, her blue eyes locking onto mine. Recognition flared there.

“I remember you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. Not with fear, but with something I couldn’t define. Excitement? Naw, it couldn’t be that. What would she have to be excited about when it came to me?

Just seeing her again made heat slam through me, a tide so strong it would surely drown me.

“I remember you too.” I was unable to tear my gaze from her face.

Mine.

No. Not mine.

The old rule tried to tighten itself around my throat in a noose. She had belonged to someone else. She had chosen another. Except she was here, in my arms, fighting to escape.

Perhaps she had not chosen him. She'd run.

“I’m Ruugar,” I said again.

“Beth.” Her lips curled around the word. “Please don’t call me Elizabeth.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

She gave me a pert nod.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

“We need to get away.” Tears trickled down her face. “They'll find me. They'll take me back, and I can't. Please. You have to understand.” Panic surged in her voice. “My father hates me. He has since I killed my mom.”

“You killed your mother?”

She shook her head, her beautiful hair shifting across her back. I'd never seen anyone as lovely as her. “Childbirth.”

“Ah.”

“He’s been mean to me all my life. Controlling. And now he's sold me to Bradley. Please. I've got to get away, or they’ll make me marry him.” She struggled again, trying to break from my grip. “Don't tell them you saw me. Let me run all the way to the mountains. I have to be free!”

“I understand.” By the fates, did I. I clenched my jaw, the power of her words pressing into my chest. She trembled, her fingers twisting around the fabric of my vest like she was barely holding herself together.

For two long months, I'd fought every instinct that told me to find her. Go to her. Claim her. I’d told myself over and over that she could never be mine.

That I had no right to think of her, to want her.

But it seemed she'd never belonged to that man, not really.

And now, she was begging me to help her get away.

The ache in my heart twisted, and I fought the truth staring right at me. She felt she had no choice but to run. She did not want him. That meant she was free. I would not let them take her back.

Harsh voices carried on the wind, moving closer, the sharp bark of orders cutting through the night. They were searching for her. If we remained here, they would find her.

I shifted my grip, steadying her weight in my arms. “You want to run away?”

Her wide, frightened eyes locked onto mine, and she nodded fast. “Yes.”

“Then hold on.”

Tightening my hold, I surged to my boots and rushed forward along the gully where I kept low and could move quickly without being seen.

At the end of the gully, I raced up and out and bolted around the edge of a sorhox pasture, the beasts snorting when they heard my furious steps, before they settled back to sleep.

The night wind tore past us, whipping through her hair as she clung to me.

The earth moved swiftly beneath my feet, the deep grass whispering as I raced toward the tree line beyond the pasture.

One sorhox issued a low challenge but a glare from me made him back down. The rest continued to ignore me.

Beth kept her face buried in my chest, the warmth of her breath seeping through my skin. Her fingers clutched my vest like it was the only solid thing in her world.

I truly was. She just didn’t know it yet.

The edge of the forest loomed ahead, dark and thick with shadows.

I could've taken her into the safety of the trees, hidden her in the deep quiet, but I veered left instead. The ground here was uneven, the slope pitched and rock-strewn, but I kept my grip on her firm, adjusting my pace so I wouldn’t trip and send us tumbling.

Beth’s breath still came fast, but not wild with panic anymore. At least she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t fighting, either. Slowly, the desperate, ragged edge of her fear seemed to dull. Maybe because she realized her feet hadn’t led her into the unknown alone—I had.

Still, my thoughts churned, growing darker with each step.

Her father. Bradley. Orc justice would've settled this quickly: an honor battle, a blade to the gut, a clean end. But humans didn’t resolve situations like this with a fight.

They didn’t spill blood to right a wrong.

Too bad. I ached to return to that barn and rip the life from the males who’d tried to trap her.

She peered around, her spine tightening. “Where are we going?” Her voice trembled, but the near-frantic tone from before had fled.

“Somewhere you’ll be safe.” I slowed, keeping my weight balanced as I stepped over a deep rut in the earth. “I won’t hurt you. This I swear.”

She exhaled. “I shouldn’t trust you,” she said, so quiet the wind almost swept her words away. “But for some reason, I do.”

The words burrowed deep, sinking all the way to my core.

She trusted me. Me .

I tightened my grip on her, as if I could shield her from anything that might try to take her away. She didn’t know how much I'd longed to hear those words from her.

I crested the final rise, and my ranch house came into view beyond the sloping hill. The white-painted siding reflected the moonlight, highlighting the dark green trim framing the windows and back kitchen door.

Knowing I wouldn’t be back until after dark, I’d left a light on.

Would Beth find my small home cozy, or would it seem insignificant compared to the lush lifestyle she’d led?

I’d overheard them speaking about her father’s wealth, how she lived in an enormous house on the ocean with servants and her every need catered to before she could ask.

Except she hadn’t had love. I didn’t love her—not yet. But since she was my fated mate, it was guaranteed.

What if I couldn’t give her everything she needed?

I needed to stop thinking of things like that. Getting her to safety was my only concern. What happened next would be up to her, not me.

My small red barn stood behind the house, its doors closed for the night. Should I take her there to hide? I doubted anyone would come knocking on my door to look for her. And if they came to ask questions, I’d tell them I’d been home most of the night, that I hadn’t seen her.

The buildings weren’t impressive, not compared to the grand homes humans built for their wealthy.

My home was simple, functional. My brothers and I had constructed our houses to be identical, believing that uniformity would make them visually appealing to tourists.

We truly didn’t care much how they appeared other than that.

It was a place to sleep, to grab a meal, to sit in the quiet, alone.

This was home. Lonely almost all the time, but a place where I could rest at night and call my own. Now, a sanctuary, a place where I could take Beth. Where we could figure out what came next.

Beth felt light in my arms. Soft and fragile.

The wind pushed against my face as I carried her along the path leading to the side door of my house.

I breathed in her scent with each inhalation.

Sweet. Her fingers still clung to my vest, almost like she was afraid I’d set her down and leave her behind.

That would never happen.

As I climbed the porch steps, they creaked.

I nudged the kitchen door open with my foot and stepped inside, heeling it closed again and locking the panel.

A light glowed above the sink, the only one I'd left on.

I crossed the room and lowered her into the closest of the two chairs at my kitchen table before scurrying around to turn on the lights.

Then I realized they skylighted her in the window and shut most of them off .

She remained in the kitchen, saying nothing.

Only fidgeting with the bag on her lap. Her small frame nearly disappeared in the orc-sized furniture, but it hadn't occurred to me to buy anything that would fit humans.

I never thought one would visit me. Or that I'd find my mate in one of their females.

She peered around the room. I did the same, cringing at the mess. Papers covered the table. My spare boots lay near the back door, one tipped onto its side, dirt still clinging to the worn leather. A shirt I’d stripped off yesterday still lay crumpled on the counter.

Panic jolted through me. I wanted her to look at me with trust, not disgust.

Turning, I rushed to grab all I could. With everything other than the few dirty dishes lying in the sink in my arms, I rushed down the hall and tossed them into my bedroom.

I returned to the kitchen and swiped the papers off the table, gathering them into a stack, knocking over the sorhox-shaped salt and pepper shakers Aunt Inla had given me.

She'd bought too many for the general store and thought we should all have a pair.

I liked salt on my food. The pepper only made me sneeze, and I hadn't touched it other than that one time.

They wobbled and fell, spilling white and black specks onto the table that I rubbed off the surface, into my palm.

“Over your left shoulder,” she said softly as I hurried to throw the grit into the trash.

I stopped in the middle of the room, not looking back. “What? ”

“If you spill salt, you're supposed to toss it over your left shoulder. For good luck.”

“Oh. I didn't know that.” Since I needed all the good luck I could get, I flung the small handful over my shoulder, worrying as I did it that it would then make my floor look even messier. But I'd do anything to please her.

She sputtered, coughed, and sneezed.

I cringed, now not wanting to turn around ever. “Sorry.” If only I could crawl inside my skin. Disappear.

If she was wise, she’d tell me to hide her anywhere else but with me.