Page 27 of The Orc's Bonded Bride (The Five Kingdoms #3)

CHAPTER 27

E gon’s heart hammered against his ribs as they reached the pass leading down into the valley surrounding his clan village. Two days of hard riding had left his muscles aching, but that discomfort paled against the knot of tension in his gut. Lyric rode beside him, her face drawn with exhaustion but her eyes alert. He’d caught her watching him throughout their journey, concern etched in the furrow of her brow.

“Almost there,” he murmured, nodding toward the settlement nestled in the valley below.

The village looked unchanged—the longhouses flanking the central plaza with the tall, angular clan house at one end, and the meeting hall at the other. Warriors were training in front of the meeting hall and someone was bringing a flock down from the upper pasture, life continuing as though the world wasn’t teetering on the edge of chaos. For a moment, Egon envied their ignorance.

Lyric leaned forward in her saddle. “So this is where your brothers grew up?”

“Yes.” How often he had envied them that peaceful childhood, but if he hadn’t been born in Kel’Vara he might not have met Lyric and that was a thought too terrible to consider.

They rode through the outer perimeter, the guards raising a hand in greeting.

“Brother!” Lothar called as they reached the central square. “You’ve returned!”

Before he could dismount, Lothar was there, pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. Wulf appeared moments later, his usual stoic expression breaking into a rare smile.

“You brought a guest,” Wulf observed, his gaze shifting to Lyric.

He helped her down from her horse, his hand lingering at her waist. “This is Lyric.”

Kari, Wulf’s mate, pushed through the small crowd that had gathered, her belly swollen with child. Behind her came Lothar’s mate, Jana, carrying a basket of herbs.

“You must be exhausted,” Kari said, taking Lyric’s hands in hers. “Come inside.”

Jana gave Lyric a warm smile. “Any friend of Egon’s is welcome here.”

“She’s more than a friend,” he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “Lyric is my mate.”

Silence fell. Wulf’s eyebrows shot up, and Lothar let out a surprised laugh.

“Well then,” Wulf said, clapping Egon on the shoulder. “This calls for celebration.”

He shook his head. “Later. We carry urgent news from Ulric.”

His brothers’ expressions shifted from surprise to something more knowing. Wulf’s gaze traveled between him and Lyric, assessing, while Lothar’s eyes sparkled with barely contained delight. The scrutiny made his skin prickle with discomfort.

“We should discuss Ulric’s situation,” he said, trying to redirect their attention.

“Of course,” Wulf agreed, but his eyes remained fixed on Egon’s hand, which had instinctively moved to Lyric’s lower back. “After you’ve both rested.”

As they walked toward the clan house, Lothar fell into step beside him, leaning close. “So, brother, you found yourself a mate after all. And here you were convinced the gods had forgotten you.”

He grunted, uncomfortable with the teasing. “There are more important matters?—”

“Oh, I’d say this is quite important,” Lothar interrupted. “You’re different. Steadier.”

Ahead of them, Lyric walked with Kari and Jana, already deep in conversation. Something in his chest loosened at the sight of her fitting so easily into his world.

Wulf sent for food, but as soon as they gathered in his private part, Wulf pulled him aside. Unlike Lothar’s playful ribbing, Wulf’s assessment was more serious.

“You’ve changed,” Wulf said quietly. “There’s a peace in you I’ve never seen before.”

He shifted his weight, unsure how to respond.

“She sees me,” he finally admitted. “Not the scars, not the Beast. Just me.”

His brother nodded, understanding in his eyes. “And you trust her.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “With everything.”

“Good.” Wulf squeezed his shoulder. “You deserve this, brother.”

Later, as they gathered around the hearth, he caught Lothar watching him with an unusually soft expression. When their eyes met, Lothar raised his cup in a silent toast.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“Nothing.” Lothar shrugged. “I just never thought I’d see the day when fierce Egon would look at someone the way you look at her. Like she hung the moon and stars.”

He wanted to deny it, but couldn’t. Instead, he glanced across the room to where Lyric sat, her face animated as she spoke with Jana. As if sensing his gaze, she looked up, her eyes finding his. The smile she gave him was small, private, meant only for him.

After their meal, he met with his brothers in what had been Wulf’s private office, although his mate’s presence now filled the room. The small chamber felt suffocating despite its size, the weight of what he needed to share pressing down on him. He paced the worn floorboards while Wulf and Lothar watched, their expressions growing more concerned with each passing moment.

“Something happened out there,” Wulf said, breaking the silence. “Something beyond finding your mate.”

He nodded, stopping his restless movement. “Khorrek found us at the wise woman’s dwelling.”

Lothar growled. “Khorrek? The one who tried to steal Jana? The one who leads Lasseran’s personal guard?”

“The same.” His jaw tightened at the memory. “He recognized me from the fight pits. We fought, but something… changed during our battle. He started talking.”

He ran a hand over his face, the exhaustion of the past days catching up to him. “Lasseran isn’t just creating Beast warriors—he’s building an army. And not just any army. He’s perfected a way to control them completely, strip away everything except a mindless Beast.”

“How?” Wulf’s voice was hard, his leader’s instincts taking over.

“A ritual. Blood magic.” His stomach churned at the memory of Khorrek’s words. “He takes their will, binds them to him. They become weapons, nothing more.”

Lothar cursed under his breath. “And the attack on the lord’s estate?”

“A test.” His fists clenched at his sides. “Khorrek said Lasseran planned to see how they performed against armed men. It was a slaughter. And perhaps a warning,” he added. “To make sure that those who give him their allegiance don’t ever change their mind.”

“Why would Khorrek tell you this?” Wulf asked skeptically.

“I think he’s beginning to question Lasseran’s methods.” He remembered the conflict in Khorrek’s eyes. “He was raised to be loyal, but even he has limits.”

“Can we trust his information?” Lothar leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I believe we can.” He met his brothers’ gazes. “And there’s more. For some reason Lasseran is determined to stop Jessamin and Ulric’s union.”

“He’s a little late for that,” Lothar snorted, but Wulf shook his head.

“Their marriage was not be consummated until all of the brides that accompanied Jessamin have found mates. Do you think Ulric is in immediate danger?”

“Lyric had a vision from Freja.” He watched his brothers’ reactions carefully but both of them seemed to accept his statements. “She believes Jessamin is in danger, and through her, Ulric as well.”

Lothar swore. “If it’s true, that’s the second time Jessamin has been targeted. Why is she so important?”

“I don’t know. All Lyric received was an impression of danger.”

“I appreciate the fact that Freja seems to want to help us, but would it hurt her to be a little more clear?” Lothar grumbled.

The faint sound of a female’s laugh drifted through the room, and the brothers exchanged startled looks. Lothar shifted uncomfortably.

“Did you hear that?”

“I’m sure it was one of our mates.” Wulf didn’t appear as convinced as his words suggested but neither he nor Lothar contradicted him. “I’ll leave for Port Cael in the morning,” he added. “You will remain and keep watch?”

The question was directed at both of them, but he nodded.

“I’m home now,” he said quietly, and for the first time the words felt true.

He followed his brothers back to the main room where their mates waited. His mind raced with everything they’d discussed—Lasseran’s plans, the Beast warriors, the looming threat. But beneath those concerns, a more immediate need pulled at him. After days of travel, of constant vigilance and shared danger, he craved time alone with Lyric.

She sat with Jana and Kari, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. When she looked up and met his gaze, the connection between them hummed like a plucked bowstring. Even across the room, he felt it.

“We’ve made arrangements for you both,” Wulf said, breaking into his thoughts. “There’s space here if?—”

“My cottage,” he interrupted, surprising himself with his decisiveness. “If that’s acceptable.”

Lothar’s lips quirked in a knowing smile. “Of course it is. Your home has been waiting for you.”

He shifted uncomfortably under his brother’s teasing gaze. “It’s small, but private.”

“I’m sure Lyric won’t mind the close quarters,” Lothar added with a wink.

He shot his brother a warning look before turning to Lyric. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, rising to her feet. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said to Wulf and Kari.

“You’re family now,” Kari replied warmly. “There’s no need for formality between us.”

The words struck him with unexpected force. Family. Lyric was his family now, bound to him in ways he’d never dared hope for.

They said their goodbyes, promising to return in the morning. As they stepped outside, the cool night air washed over them. His cottage lay at the village’s edge, nestled against the forest’s boundary—a reflection of his own existence, always straddling two worlds.

“It’s not much,” he warned as they walked. “I built it myself, but it’s… simple.”

She slipped her hand into his. “I don’t need much.”

The quiet confidence in her voice eased something in his chest. They walked in comfortable silence, the tension of the day slowly ebbing from his shoulders. For the first time since leaving her village, he felt as if he could breathe fully.

His cottage appeared ahead, a small structure of stone and timber, smoke curling from the chimney—someone had prepared for their arrival. A lantern glowed in the window, casting a warm light across the path.

“Home,” he said, the word still strange on his tongue. He pushed open the door, suddenly anxious about her reaction.

He watched her as she moved through his cottage, her fingers trailing over the rough-hewn furniture he’d crafted himself. His chest tightened with each step she took, anxiety prickling beneath his skin. The place seemed smaller now, its imperfections magnified by her presence.

“It’s not much,” he repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t spend much time here before…”

She turned to him, her eyes warm in the firelight. “It’s perfect, Egon.”

He blinked, certain he’d misheard. “Perfect?”

She nodded, moving toward him. “It has everything we need. Walls to keep out the cold, a hearth for warmth…” Her gaze drifted toward the far corner where his bed stood, piled with furs. A teasing smile curved her lips. “And a bed.”

The heat in her eyes sent a jolt through him. His Beast stirred, responsive to her nearness, to the scent of her desire that perfumed the air between them.

“Lyric,” he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips.

She took his hand, her fingers small but sure against his calloused palm. Without a word, she led him toward the bed. His heart hammered against his ribs, equal parts disbelief and longing, as she slowly removed his vest, kissing his scarred chest as she went. He still found it hard to believe that she didn’t shrink or pull away, that her face remained warm and loving.

She reached his waist, trailing her fingers along the waistband of his leathers and leaving a trail of fire behind. Her hand slid down to cup his straining erection and his hips bucked helplessly into her hand. She gave a breathless laugh and fumbled at his laces, her fingers clumsy in her haste. He growled, equally impatient, and sliced them open with a claw, shuddering with relief as his erection sprang free. Her small fingers circled the thick length before she pushed him back onto the bed.

“What are you… Oh, fuck.” He lost the ability to speak as she took the tip of his cock into her hot little mouth. His thighs trembled and his hips arched off the bed. One hand clutched desperately at the furs, the other tangled in the silky strands of her hair.

Her mouth was warm, wet, and so soft. He bit back a groan as she sucked him deeper, her tongue tracing the thick vein along the underside. His cock throbbed and pulsed, leaking a steady stream of precum that she lapped at eagerly. She pulled back with a soft pop, her eyes glazed with lust.

“You taste so good,” she murmured, licking the broad head. “I love how big you are, how you fill my mouth.”

“Gods,” he hissed, his head falling back against the bed. “Lyric…”

She lowered her head, taking him into her mouth again, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. His hips jerked involuntarily and she choked, pulling away. He reached for her immediately, stroking her cheek, but she pushed him back down.

“I’m okay,” she reassured him, her hand pumping up and down his length. “Just need to practice a little more.”

He barked a laugh. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

“That’s the idea,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

She swallowed him down again, her head bobbing in a slow rhythm that made his vision blur. He fought to keep his hips still, to not thrust deeper into the wet heaven of her mouth, but it was nearly impossible. His muscles strained and his body thrummed with the need for release.

Her nails scraped gently over his heavy sack, and that was enough to push him over the edge. His cock surged, thickening and swelling before exploding. He roared her name, his hips arching helplessly as he emptied himself into her mouth. She moaned, swallowing every drop, her tongue working him until he lay limp and dazed. Only then did she release his cock and crawl up his body.

She kissed him deeply, sharing the taste of his seed. The knowledge that she had swallowed him only added to his arousal. His cock, which had never softened, throbbed with need. He could scent her desire, thick and sweet, and his Beast demanded that he claim her, mark her, fill her with his seed.

“I want you, Egon,” she murmured against his mouth. “All of you. Now.”

He moved with inhuman speed, flipping them over until she was pressed beneath him. He tugged off her leggings, desperate to feel her naked body against his. She lifted her hips to help him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Please,” she whispered, her eyes wide and dark. “I need you.”

He was too far gone to deny her, to deny himself. He settled between her legs, his cock nudging against her entrance. She gasped, tilting her hips up to welcome him, her fingers digging into his back. He pressed forward, groaning as her slick heat enveloped him, inch by torturous inch.

“So tight,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. “So perfect.”

He rocked his hips, pushing deeper, until their bodies were flush and he was buried inside her. They clung to each other, lost in the sensation. When he began to move, it was with a single-minded focus, chasing their mutual pleasure. Her soft sighs and cries urged him on, drowning out the doubts that had plagued him for so long.

“More,” she pleaded, her legs wrapping around his waist. “I want to feel all of you.”

He growled, his hips snapping forward, driving into her again and again. She met him thrust for thrust, her body arching into his. He could feel her clenching around him, her inner walls rippling with the beginnings of her orgasm.

“Come for me, Lyric,” he commanded, his voice raw. “Let me feel you.”

She shattered, her back bowing as she cried out his name. He watched her, awestruck, as pleasure claimed her. She was beautiful in her abandon, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut. Her body gripped him like a fist, milking his cock, and he knew he couldn’t hold back. His balls tightened and he drove into her once more before his own release hit. His cock pulsed and throbbed, filling her with rope after rope of hot seed as his knot expanded, locking them together.

He collapsed, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. Her hands stroked his back, soothing him even as her body continued to ripple with aftershocks. They lay tangled together, breathing ragged, hearts pounding. Each touch, each whispered endearment, had transformed the cottage around them. The walls that had merely sheltered him now embraced them both. The bed that had known only his solitary rest now cradled their entwined forms.

When they lay together afterward, her head pillowed on his chest, he stared up at the ceiling beams he’d placed with his own hands. The cottage had always been his, but now, with Lyric’s scent mingling with his, with her warmth pressed against him, it was finally home.