Page 5 of Saved By the Mountain Man Orc (The Men of Orc Mountain #1)

Jasmine

Sleep doesn't come.

Every time I close my eyes, I see his face in the firelight. Feel the heat that radiated from his skin when he was close enough to touch. Smell that wild, clean scent that seems to cling to everything in the cabin.

Drak.

He said he'd take me to the ridge tomorrow. That it's as far as he can go.

And after that... I suppose I'll go back to my old life. Back to chasing photos and deadlines and the hollow feeling that I'm always searching for something just out of reach.

Except now I know what that something was.

And I'm not sure I can walk away from it.

I push off the heavy fur blanket and test my weight on both feet. My ankle still protests, but the sharp agony has faded to a dull throb. Whatever was in that tea he gave me, it's working.

The cabin is quiet except for the soft crackle of dying embers in the fireplace. Through the window, I can see him in the moonlight, chopping wood again with mechanical precision. Shirtless again, muscles bunching and releasing with each swing of the axe.

This time, I don't just look. I study him.

The way his dark hair clings to his neck with sweat despite the cold. The network of scars that speaks to a life lived on the edge of violence. The careful control in every movement, like he's constantly aware of his own strength.

He's beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with conventional standards and everything to do with raw, honest power.

I ease the door open and step into the night air. It's crisp enough to make me shiver, raising goosebumps along my arms. The fur blanket helps, but not much.

His rhythm falters the moment I appear. He doesn't stop chopping, but his golden eyes track my movement like a predator watching prey.

"You're supposed to be resting," he says without breaking his steady pace.

"Couldn't sleep."

He drives the axe into the chopping block with a final, resounding thud and turns to face me fully. Sweat gleams on his chest and his breathing is slightly elevated from the exertion.

"You're still in pain."

"No." I swallow hard, taking another step closer. "Not really."

He says nothing, but his nostrils flare slightly like he's scenting the air around me.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words.

"Why do you keep looking at me like you're fighting something?" I ask.

His jaw tightens. "Because I am."

"What is it?"

He doesn't answer immediately. Just stands there, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, golden eyes fixed on my face like he's memorizing every detail.

So, I take another step toward him. Then another.

I'm close enough now to feel his body heat despite the night air, to see the fine tremor in his hands as they curl into fists at his sides.

"Drak."

He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just watches me with an intensity that makes my skin feel too tight.

I lift my hand and press my palm flat against his chest, right over his heart. His skin is furnace-hot, sticky with sweat, and I can feel his heart hammering beneath my fingers.

He’s a man. Just a man. But… better.

His breath hitches. Every muscle in his body goes rigid.

"You saved me," I whisper. "You took care of me. You fed me, protected me. And you keep looking at me like I'm... like I'm yours."

His golden eyes blaze. When he speaks, his voice is rough as gravel.

"You are. "

The words hit me like lightning, sending electricity racing down my spine.

I don't move. Don't speak. My fingers curl slightly against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat.

"I don't know how," he continues hoarsely. "But I knew the moment I saw you. Smelled you. Everything in me just locked onto you like you were the missing piece I didn't know I needed."

His voice drops lower, rougher.

"I'm trying to do the right thing, Jasmine. To let you go back to your life. But you're all I can think about. You're in my blood now."

For one dizzy second, I wonder if I should step back—but I don’t.

My breath comes shorter. "Then stop trying."

Emotions flicker across his face, and I see his control snapping like an overstretched rope.

He moves faster than I can process, one massive hand sliding to the small of my back, the other curling around the nape of my neck. His fingers tangle in my hair as he pulls me against him, and our mouths crash together with desperate hunger.

The kiss is nothing like the gentle touches from before. It's claiming. Consuming . His tusks press lightly against my cheeks, perfectly spaced so that my mouth meets his just right . I can taste the wildness on his lips, something untamed and honest that makes heat pool low in my belly.

I melt into him, my hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer even though there's no space left between us. His chest rumbles with a low, guttural sound that vibrates through my entire body.

He lifts me effortlessly, carrying me back toward the cabin like I weigh nothing at all. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and the friction makes me gasp against his mouth.

Inside, he lays me down on the bed with infinite care, like I'm something precious he's afraid of breaking. And he’s so much bigger than me, he could break me. But he won’t. I know he won’t.

When he looks down at me, eyes wild with desire and something more, I know with absolute certainty…

I don't want to be anywhere else.

Not tomorrow.

Not ever.