Page 12 of The Orc's Bonded Bride (The Five Kingdoms #3)

CHAPTER 12

L yric raced towards the commotion, her heart hammering against her ribs. Harta had come to find her, breathless and worried.

“Trouble,” the Elder gasped, and she’d known immediately that Egon was involved.

The crowd had gathered in one of the side streets leading away from the village square—two crumpled forms on the ground, villagers gathered in a wide circle, and at the center, Egon. His big body heaved with each breath, and blood—not his own—spattered his forearms.

Lina was clinging to the miller’s wife, sobbing, and Samha stood at her side, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe as he stared at Egon.

She pushed through the crowd, aware of the whispers that followed her path.

“Beast…”

“…not natural…”

Egon’s head snapped up at her approach, his nostrils flaring. His eyes were solid black, his features a savage mask. His gaze darted between her and the frightened villagers, his jaw clenched tight enough that she could see the muscle jumping beneath his scarred skin.

“Egon,” she said softly, stepping closer while everyone else maintained their distance.

His nostrils flared again as he inhaled sharply.

“Don’t,” he growled, voice rougher than usual. “Stay back.”

But she’d never been good at following orders. She closed the distance between them, her fingers brushing his trembling hand. His skin was hot to the touch, still fevered from the change. Claws still protruded from his fingertips, his knuckles swollen and bruised.

“Look at me,” she said gently. His eyes remained locked on something over her shoulder. “Egon. Look at me.”

When their gazes finally met, she saw a flash of amber in those black pools. It flickered, then began to grow, gradually swallowing the blackness.

“They—” his voice caught, and his fingers curled inward, claws digging into his palms. “They hurt Samha.”

“I know.” She cupped his cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw. “And you protected him.”

He glanced over at the boy, at the blood on his lip, and she felt him shudder. His gaze drifted to the bodies on the ground and she sensed him struggling to push words past his lips. “I didn’t want…”

“You didn’t have a choice.” She stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, tracing the lines of his scars.

“They would have hurt them,” he said, so quietly only she could hear. “Samha. Lina. I couldn’t?—”

“I know.” She slipped her hand into his, ignoring the blood and the claws. “You protected them.”

His eyes flickered—amber to black and back again—as though the Beast within him hadn’t fully retreated. “Look at them, Lyric. They see what I truly am now.”

She glanced at the villagers’ faces—fear, uncertainty, confusion. But also relief. Lina and Samha were safe. The threat neutralized.

“They see someone who saved two of their own,” she insisted, squeezing his hand. “Give them time.”

Elder Tomas stepped forward, his weathered face unreadable. “Lord Trevain’s men?—”

“Would have done worse,” she interrupted, still holding Egon’s hand. “You know it’s true.”

His fingers twitched in hers, his amber eyes clouded with doubt. A knot formed in her throat as she watched his shoulders hunch forward, his massive body somehow seeming smaller under the weight of the villagers’ stares. The whispers continued to ripple through the crowd, and with each one, she saw him retreat further into himself.

This wasn’t just about today. This was years of rejection, of being seen as nothing but a monster, etched into every scar on his body.

“Egon,” she whispered, stepping closer while everyone else maintained their fearful distance. “Look at me.”

His gaze remained fixed on the ground, his breathing still uneven. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the dirt.

She reached for his face, her palm gentle against his cheek. The contrast between her small hand and his scarred green skin made something in her chest ache. His skin was still feverish from the transformation, but he didn’t pull away.

“I see you,” she said, her voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Not what you think they see.”

His eyes finally met hers, filled with a vulnerability that she suspected few had ever witnessed.

“You protected them,” she continued, her thumb brushing across his cheekbone. “That’s who you are.”

He swallowed hard, his voice a ragged whisper. “I lost control.”

“You acted when no one else could or would.” She moved her hand to rest over his heart, feeling its powerful rhythm beneath her palm. “This is what matters. This is what I’ve always seen in you.”

Around them, the villagers’ whispers began to fade as Samha broke away from his sister’s grasp and approached them cautiously. The boy stopped a few feet away, his small face solemn.

“Thank you for saving my sister,” he said, his voice clear in the sudden quiet.

She felt Egon’s heart stutter beneath her hand, saw the flicker of disbelief cross his face. She kept her hand firmly against his chest, anchoring him to this moment, refusing to let him drift away into the darkness of his own thoughts.

He looked down at Samha, then dipped his head in acknowledgement. The boy’s usual grin flashed across his face for a second before he returned to his sister.

She laced her fingers through Egon’s and tugged gently.

“Come,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart. “Let’s go home.”

Home. The word slipped out so naturally, as if the cottage had always been meant for both of them. He accompanied her without resistance, his big body casting a long shadow as they walked the familiar path. The silence between them felt charged, electric with unspoken emotions.

Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, watching as he stood awkwardly in the center of their small home. His shoulders remained hunched, his eyes darting around as if seeking escape. Blood still stained his hands—evidence of what he’d done to protect those who now feared him.

“They’ll never accept me here,” he said, his voice rough. “Not after what they saw.”

“I accept you,” she said simply, taking his bloodied hands in hers, feeling the lingering heat of his transformation. Without looking away from him, she reached up, cupping his face between her palms. His breath caught as she rose onto her tiptoes, bringing her lips to his.

The kiss was gentle at first, a whisper of contact. A question. His response was hesitant, restrained, as if afraid of breaking her. She pressed closer, deepening the kiss, her fingers sliding into his hair. She poured everything she couldn’t say into that kiss—her trust, her desire, her acceptance of all that he was.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as his massive arms encircled her, lifting her slightly off the ground. His kiss turned hungry, desperate, before he abruptly set her down and pulled away, breathing hard.

“Lyric,” he warned, his voice strained. His eyes flashed gold in the dim light of the cottage. “My Beast is still too close. I can’t—” He swallowed hard. “I want more than just kisses.”

Her heart raced, but not from fear. She recognized the look in his eyes—hunger, desire, and beneath it all, that ever-present restraint.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, her voice steady despite the heat flooding her body. “I never have been.”

He shook his head, his massive body trembling with the effort to control himself. “You should be. After what you saw?—”

“You protected two people who couldn’t protect themselves.” She stepped closer, erasing the distance he’d put between them. “Just like you once protected me.”

She reached for him again, her fingers tracing the scars that marked his face, his neck, the exposed skin of his arms. Each one told a story of pain, of survival. Her touch was deliberate, claiming every part of him that he believed made him monstrous.

“I want this,” she whispered, rising on her toes to press her lips to the corner of his mouth. “I want you.”

Something broke in Egon then—the last thread of his restraint snapping as he gathered her against him. His mouth found hers, hungry and demanding, his massive hands spanning her waist as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. His claws emerged again as he tore impatiently at her dress, and he froze.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I’ll get you a new one.”

Despite the apology, his gaze was hungry as he focused on the bare skin exposed by the torn dress. She smiled and kissed him again, her fingers tangling in his hair. She arched against him, heat pooling between her thighs as his touch grew more confident. The weight of his massive body pressing her into the soft mattress sent a thrill down her spine.

“Lyric,” he breathed her name like a prayer, his lips finding the pulse point at her throat, his tusks scraping lightly over her skin.

She gasped, her back arching as his hand slid beneath her torn dress to cup her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple into a hard peak. His touch was gentle despite the callouses and scars that marked his palms.

“Mine,” he growled against her collarbone, the vibration of his deep voice sending a fresh surge of arousal through her.

Her hands explored his broad chest, tracing the planes of hard muscle and the ridges of his scars. He was a warrior, fierce and protective, and yet he trembled beneath her touch, his breath catching when her fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of his nipple. She filed that knowledge away, determined to learn every part of him that gave pleasure instead of pain.

He claimed her mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue exploring her, claiming her as his own. She felt the hard length of him press against her thigh, hot and insistent. Her fingers trailed down the defined ridges of his abdomen to where his massive erection strained against his pants.

His hips bucked against her touch and he growled low in his throat, his control slipping with each stroke of her fingers over the thick shaft. Impatiently, he shed his clothes, kicking free of the confining fabric and baring himself to her gaze.

Her breath caught as she took in the sight of him. His body was a work of art, chiseled from years of training, but it was the evidence of his desire for her that stole her breath. He was huge—long and thick, flushed a deep, dark green. She wrapped her fingers around as much of him as she could and he groaned, his head tipping back as she explored him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, little bee,” he growled, but there was no threat in his voice, only desire.

His mouth found hers again, his tongue claiming her as his hands roamed over her body, tearing the rest of her dress away until she lay bare beneath him. The cool air of the room whispered over her skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold. She’d never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so safe at the same time.

He kissed his way down her body, his lips blazing a trail of fire over her skin. When he reached the juncture between her thighs, she gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily at the first stroke of his tongue against her swollen folds. He growled against her, the vibration sending shockwaves through her body. Her hands fisted in the sheets as he explored her, his tongue circling and teasing her clit before dipping lower to thrust inside her.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as he worshipped her with his mouth, his hands holding her hips steady as she writhed beneath him. Pleasure built inside her, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped and wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her, leaving her trembling and panting.

He held her until she stopped trembling, but when she reached for him, he caught her wrist gently, stilling her explorations. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“I… There’s something you need to understand about what I am.”

She placed a gentle palm on his cheek. “I’ve seen your Beast, Egon. I’m not afraid.”

“You should be. The Beast wants things. Primal things.”

“What if I want those things too?”

He shook his head.

“You don’t understand. What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” she said firmly. If there was one thing in this world she was absolutely sure of, it was that he would never hurt her.

“You don’t know that.” He caught her hands between his massive ones as she reached for him again. “My brothers… their mates are human, but they’re different. They’ve had years to learn control. I’ve been alone, fighting this.”

Her heart ached as she looked up at him, at the fear written across that scarred face. He’d endured so much pain, so much unhappiness—perhaps it wasn’t surprising that he was afraid.

“I wish you could trust yourself as much as I trust you.”

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice tortured.

“We’ve waited this long. I suppose we can wait a little longer.” The mixture of sorrow and relief on his face made her heart ache again, but she smiled up at him. “And I have an idea. Perhaps if we… practice a little more, you’ll realize you’re not going to hurt me.”

“Practice?”

She took his hand and drew it down to cover her breast. His eyes immediately darkened as his thumb found her nipple, sending a streak of pleasure down her spine. She arched into his touch. “You could touch me here. Or maybe… a kiss?”

She brushed her mouth lightly over his, and his lips parted hungrily under hers. As his tongue explored her mouth, she squirmed beneath him, the friction of his hot, hard cock against her thigh driving her wild. She could feel her body responding, growing slick with arousal once again, and she cried out as his thick length started to settle between her legs. But instead of pushing into her, he slid down her body once more, his mouth fastening hungrily over her clit, his hands on her thighs spreading her wider as he devoured her. His tongue circled and teased, drawing gasp after gasp from her throat until her hands were buried in his hair, her hips rocking against him.

When her climax hit, it was like a lightning strike, her body arching off the bed as she screamed his name.

He held her through the aftermath, his arms encircling her and drawing her against his broad chest. She could feel the steady pounding of his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his breathing as they lay together in the darkness.

“I like this practice,” he said softly.

She laughed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. “I do too. You’re welcome to practice as much as you’d like.”

His chuckle rumbled through her. “Careful what you’re asking for, little bee. My appetite for you is endless.”

She snuggled closer, her leg draping over his as she pillowed her head on his shoulder. “Good.”

As she drifted off to sleep, she realized she’d never felt so safe, so cherished, and she wondered how she’d ever lived without him.