Page 35 of Till Orc Do Us Part

“You heal fast,” I murmur.

“Orcs do.”

Of course they do.

I swipe at the cut with fresh antiseptic. His muscles twitch under my touch. Not from pain—I can tell. It’s something else.

I bite the inside of my cheek and keep working.

The room hums with unsaid things. Thick. Heavy. Every brush of my fingers seems louder than the rain.

“You shouldn’t have gone out there,” I say after a beat. “That stand could’ve collapsed on both of you.”

His voice is low. “It did not.”

“That’s not the point.”

I tape the gauze down firmly. Sit back on my heels.

Finally meet his gaze.

And gods—it’s like standing too close to a fire. Not burning. Not quite. But close enough you can’t tell where heat ends and skin begins.

I clear my throat. “You’re staying here tonight.”

A brow arches. “Unnecessary.”

“Humor me,” I snap. “You can’t walk two blocks in this storm, and I’m not calling a driver in this mess.”

He studies me a long moment. Something flickers behind his eyes—respect, maybe. Or stubborn amusement.

“Very well,” he says quietly.

I exhale. “Good.”

Movement on the stairs draws my eye.

Jamie appears in the doorway, hair tousled, eyes wide.

“Mom?” he whispers. “Is Mr. Drokhaz okay?”

I soften. “He’s going to be fine, sweetheart.”

Jamie pads in on bare feet, clutching his ridiculous cardboard lighthouse. He sets it carefully on the floor beside the bed.

“For you,” he says shyly to Drokhaz. “So you have light.”

My throat catches.

Drokhaz inclines his head. “Thank you, Jamie. I am honored.”

Jamie beams. Then curls up on the braided rug beside the bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I open my mouth to protest—then stop.

He’s already half-asleep.

Drokhaz glances at me. “Shall I move him?”