Page 10 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc (Silvermist Mates #3)

CHAPTER TEN

GALAN

I traced the grain of wood in Hannah’s windowsill, following its path with my eyes as sunlight slanted through the glass. The mountain air filled the small bedroom, carrying scents of pine and distant rain. A week trapped in this bed had me memorizing every knot in the wood, every pattern in the ceiling.

My side twinged as I shifted on the bed. A week since Hannah had let me use my own two feet for anything more than a trip to the bathroom. A week of her fussing and hovering and threatening to hex me if I tried to get up without permission.

Seven fucking days since my father had tried to kill us both.

My jaw clenched. The clan’s search parties had found nothing. No blood trail leading from Hannah’s yard. No sign of him in his cave or any of his usual haunts. Just... gone. Like a ghost .

But Coth was no ghost. He was flesh and blood and hatred. The wound in my side had mostly healed—Hannah’s blast of magic, a skilled surgeon, and orc constitution had seen to that—but the deeper wound festered. My own father had tried to gut me like an animal. Would have killed Hannah without hesitation.

Part of me hoped he’d bled out in some forgotten corner of the forest, his hatred finally consuming him completely. Another part—the son who’d once sought his approval, who’d carried supplies to his cave every week despite everything—dreaded the day they’d find his body.

The front door opened, followed by the familiar sound of Hannah’s footsteps. Digby’s claws clicked against the hardwood as he trotted ahead of her, appearing in the bedroom doorway first. The badger gave me a once-over, as if checking I hadn’t moved from where they’d left me, before hopping onto the foot of the bed.

Hannah appeared a moment later, and my breath caught on my growl about being treated like an invalid. She wore a simple green dress that brought out her eyes, her hair pinned back from her face in a way I’d never seen before. Even her face looked different—something dusted across her cheekbones, color on her lips.

“You look...” I swallowed hard, searching for words that wouldn’t sound like the fumbling of an inexperienced youth. “Different. ”

“Good different or bad different?” She quirked an eyebrow, approaching the bed.

I caught her wrist as she reached to check my bandage, pulling her closer. “Beautiful.”

She smiled, allowing herself to be drawn in before placing a hand on my chest. Her free hand rose to my forehead. “No fever. Must be the medication making you delirious.”

“Must be,” I agreed, drinking in the sight of her. After a week of her in shapeless sweaters and worn leggings, this transformation struck me dumb. Not better—I’d found her breathtaking covered in dirt and mushroom spores—just different. A side of Hannah I hadn’t seen before.

“How’s the pain?”

“Nonexistent.” I stretched deliberately, hiding the twinge that shot through my side. “See? I’m fine. No need for this lockdown.”

“And I’m sure your medical degree qualifies you to make that assessment.” She rolled her eyes, but her touch remained gentle as she peeled back the bandage and inspected the stitches with a critical eye. “Another few days and you can go back to prowling the woods and terrifying hikers.”

“You weren’t terrified,” I reminded her, catching her wrist. “Just annoying.”

“Poor baby.” She patted my chest, her touch lingering. Her lips twisted and her tone turned serious. “ You’re lucky to be alive. If that blade had been an inch to the left...”

She didn’t finish the thought. Didn’t need to. We both knew how close I’d come to bleeding out on her porch. To dying before I had a chance to claim my mate. Before I’d even really gotten to know her.

“So…” The ends of her hair tickled at my chest as she leaned over to replace the bandage. “Before your father tried to kill us, you were saying something about mates?”

The question caught me off guard. We’d been dancing around the topic since that night, too focused on my recovery and making sure Coth couldn’t hurt us again. I’d begun to wonder if she regretted the admission and if the bond I felt so strongly was one-sided after all.

“I did.” I kept my voice neutral, watching her face for any sign of rejection. “You’re my mate, Hannah. My fated mate. If you want me.”

She shifted on the bed, moving to face me fully. “And what does that mean, exactly? For us?”

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. The last week had given me too much time to think. Time to imagine a future beyond the confines of tradition, the limits of clan and kinship. A life with meaning beyond duty.

She’d already sacrificed so much because of me. She loved being a nurse. It was woven into who she was, as much as the magic in her blood. I’d watched her these past few days, tending to my wound, worrying, hovering. There was a weariness in her shoulders that didn’t match the satisfaction of providing help.

But the bridge to her career had been burned to ash, and I’d been the match.

“I think it means leaving Silvermist Falls,” I finally said, the words heavy on my tongue. “And Grimstone.”

Her fingers traced the edge of my bandage. “Would you go back to Grimstone? After everything?”

The question hit a nerve I hadn’t realized was exposed. “To be the disgraced son who needed his mate to save him? The one they whisper about behind closed doors?” I shook my head. “I’ve had enough pity to last a lifetime.”

“Is that what you think?” Her hand found mine, fingers lacing through mine. “Galan, your cousins have been driving me crazy with constant calls for updates. Osen and Torain nearly broke down my door the day after surgery. Miranda sent healing salves. Zral even brought food.”

My head snapped up. “Zral was here?”

“Left it on the porch with a note that said ‘Don’t die, asshole.’ Very touching.” She smirked. “Your clan cares about you, Galan. Whether you want them to or not.”

I stared at Hannah, trying to process what she was telling me. The clan hadn’t abandoned me out of shame. Hadn’t written me off as weak or broken. They’d been here, checking on me.

“You didn’t say,” I said, voice rough .

“You weren’t exactly in a state to receive visitors.” Her thumb traced circles on my palm. “And I might have been a little overprotective.”

The admission warmed something in my chest. My fierce little witch, standing guard over me. The irony wasn’t lost on me—I’d started as her reluctant bodyguard, and now our roles had reversed.

“I heard something interesting from Torain,” Hannah continued, those green eyes peeking through dark lashes. “Apparently there’s an opening for a park ranger here in Silvermist. You could choose how much to let them in. Make that space you wanted for yourself?”

Because my father terrorized the last ranger until he fled. I snorted. “I’m not becoming a fucking park ranger.”

“Of course not.” Her tone was too agreeable. “Far too much responsibility, making sure idiots don’t get themselves killed in your mountains.”

“They’re not my mountains.”

“No? That’s not what I heard.” She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And you’re pretty good at telling people where they can and can’t go.”

“Funny.” I caught her hand again, my mind caught on the idea. Working the land I knew, protecting the mountains I loved, but on my own terms. Not as Coth’s son or the exile’s heir. Just... me.

I shook the thought away. “It doesn’t matter. You need work, and after Harrison?— ”

Her lips curved into a slow smile. “Well, what if I get a job here?”

I blinked. “Here?”

“Harrison’s been forced to resign. Turns out threatening a patient’s life based on species is frowned upon, even for the great Dr. Rocha.” Her smile turned wicked. “Dr. Patel’s taking over as chief of medicine, and she offered me the head nurse position.”

“When?”

“Today.” She gestured at her dress, grinning. “Had the interview this morning, actually. That’s where I’ve been.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. This woman, my mate, had been ten steps ahead while I’d been wallowing in self-pity.

Hannah shrugged, but the proud tilt of her chin gave her away. “Someone has to. You’re too busy being a big green brute.”

I caught her wrist and tugged her toward me. “Come here, witch.”

She didn’t resist, allowing herself to be pulled forward until our lips met. The kiss started gentle, but hunger quickly took over. I grabbed her hips and guided her onto my lap, arranging her so she straddled me.

“Galan!” She pulled back, hands braced against my chest. “Your wound?—”

“Is fine.” I slid my hands up her thighs, bunching the fabric of her dress. “I’ve been trapped in this bed for a week. Let me touch you.”

Her eyes narrowed, searching my face for signs of pain. “If you tear those stitches?—”

“I won’t.” My cock strained against my sweatpants, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide my reaction to her warm weight on my thighs.

Hannah’s gaze dropped to the obvious bulge between us. A slow smile spread across her face as she palmed my cock, squeezing me hard. “More than fine, I see.”

I groaned, head falling back. “Don’t tease.”

“Only if you promise to go slow.” Her fingers traced the edge of my bandage. “And stop if you feel any pain.”

“I promise.” I’d have promised her the moon and stars if it meant having her right now. “No heroics.”

Satisfied, she leaned down to kiss me again. This time there was nothing soft about it. Her tongue slid against mine, demanding and hungry. I groaned into her mouth, my hands tightening on her thighs.

For a week I’d been confined to this bed, allowed to touch but not take. To hold but not claim. The need that had been building—the mate bond demanding completion—roared through me like wildfire.

Mine.

I slid my hands higher under her dress, discovering the lacy edge of her underwear. Her eyes darkened as my fingers dipped beneath the fabric. She was already wet, her body responding to my touch with an eagerness that matched my own. I circled her clit with my thumb, drawing a gasp from her lips.

“Like that?” I murmured, watching her face for every reaction.

“Yes,” she breathed, rocking against my hand. “Just like that.”

I slid one finger inside her, then another, feeling her body clench around me. Her head fell back, exposing the pale column of her throat. I leaned forward to taste her skin, savoring the salt-sweet flavor as I worked my fingers deeper.

“Fuck, Galan,” she moaned, grinding down on my hand. “That feels so good.”

Her pleasure fed mine, her responses teaching me what she liked, what made her moan. The way she bit her lip when I curled my fingers just so. The flush that spread across her chest when I pressed my thumb against her clit.

“There!” Her whole body tensed, thighs trembling around mine. “Right there.”

I kept the pressure steady, my thumb circling her clit as my fingers stroked inside her. Her pussy clenched around me, growing wetter with each thrust.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers,” I growled against her throat. “Then I want to feel you come on my cock.”

Her answer was a breathless, frantic nod as she rode my hand, chasing her pleasure. I watched her face, memorizing every expression, every sound. This was mine now. She was mine. My mate. My witch.

Hannah’s movements grew more desperate, her breath coming in short gasps. “I’m close,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “So close.”

I pressed deeper, harder, driving her toward the edge. Her release washed over her in a wave, her body clenching around my fingers as she cried out. I worked her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks subsided.

When she came back to herself, her eyes found mine, dark with desire. She reached between us, tugging at my sweatpants. “I need you inside me.”

I lifted my hips, helping her push the fabric down just enough to free my cock. She wrapped her hand around me, stroking firmly from base to tip.

“Fuck,” I hissed, my head falling back against the pillows. “Hannah?—”

I leaned up to capture her lips, my fingers fumbling with the zipper at her back as I poured everything I couldn’t yet express into the kiss. All the wonder at finding her, all the fear of losing her, all the gratitude for her strength when mine had faltered. The mate bond hummed between us, no longer just an instinct but something we were choosing, together.

She rose up on her knees, yanking the dress over her head and positioning herself above me. The head of my cock nudged against her entrance, teasing us both .

“Still claiming this isn’t a spell?” I grinned against her mouth as she began to sink down onto me.

HANNAH

“Still pretending you don’t want me?” I replied, biting Galan’s lower lip.

A rumble escaped his throat as his large hands settled on my waist, his fingers spanning almost my entire ribcage. The contrast between us—his green skin against my pale flesh, his massive strength holding me with surprising gentleness—sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

He guided me down onto his thick length, his eyes never leaving mine. I held my panties to the side as I took him inch by glorious inch, a delicious burn that had me moaning low in my throat. The stretch was exquisite—my body remembering him from our first explosive encounter in the woods, then a second taste in his cabin.

This somehow felt entirely new. Deliberate. Chosen.

“Witch.” The word left his mouth like a prayer. “Perfect little witch.”

His lips found mine again, hungry and demanding. I melted into the kiss, savoring the feel of his tusks grazing my lips. His hands skimmed frantically up my sides, around to my bra, fumbling once, twice, until I reached around and unclasped it for him.

Galan immediately dropped his hands, fingers hooking into the sides of my panties. With one sharp tug, he tore them clean off my body. I gasped into his mouth, earning a satisfied grunt in return.

One big hand found the back of my neck, angling my mouth for a deeper kiss as he rolled his hips to meet mine. With each stroke, I fell further, until he finally bottomed out. Until everything faded until all that remained was heat and want and his cock stretching me deliciously wide.

We froze, eyes locking, breaths mingling. Emotion welled up in my throat—so strong, so new.

Mate. Mine. His.

Whatever spell he claimed I’d cast, it worked both ways. Power hummed between us, crackling along my nerves. Our hearts beat as one, his pulse hammering in sync with mine. The world tilted, colors shifting to brighter hues, sounds resolving to crystal clarity.

I braced my hands on his chest, careful of his wound as I began to move. Each rise and fall sent sparks shooting up my spine. His cock hit places inside me that made my vision blur, the thick ridge of his head dragging against my walls in a way that had me gasping.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I moaned, picking up speed. “So fucking deep. ”

His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. “Say that again.”

“Your cock fills me up so good,” I whispered, leaning down to nip at his ear. “Stretching my pussy just right.”

Galan growled deep in his chest. His hands gripped my ass, fingers digging in as he guided my movements. I watched his face—the way his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched.

“That’s it,” I purred, rolling my hips. “Fuck me hard.”

He sucked down a sharp breath at my words. He slid one hand up my back, tangling in my hair as he pulled me down for a bruising kiss. His other hand found my clit, circling roughly.

“Like this?” he asked against my lips, his touch growing bolder.

“Yes,” I moaned. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

His thumb pressed harder, matching the relentless pace of his cock pounding into me. Heat coiled in my core, building with each stroke. My pussy clenched around him, drawing a savage groan from his throat.

“Not gonna last,” he warned, his rhythm faltering. “You feel too good.”

“Then don’t,” I panted, riding him harder. I tilted my head to expose my throat. “Mark me, Galan. Make me yours.”

His lips found the junction where my neck met my shoulder, kissing the spot before grazing it with his tusks. The gentle scrape sent shivers down my spine, my body instinctively arching into his.

“Mine,” he growled against my skin, his thrusts growing more desperate. “My mate.”

His grip tightened, one hand still tangled in my hair, the other pressing hard against my clit as he drove up into me. The dual assault on my senses prolonged my climax, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

Then his teeth sank into me, and the world exploded into stars.

Pain and pleasure crashed through me in equal measure, indistinguishable from each other. My back arched sharply, a cry tearing from my throat as his claiming mark burned into my skin. The sensation radiated outward from the bite, flowing through my veins like liquid fire until every inch of me was consumed.

I felt him pulse inside me, his hips jerking as he growled against my throat. His release triggered another aftershock, my pussy clenching around him, milking every drop as he filled me.

He released my throat with a gasp, his tongue laving gently over the mark he’d left. I melted against his chest, boneless and sated. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as our breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Hannah,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses along my shoulder. “My witch. ”

I smiled against his skin, tracing the bandage covering where his father had tried—and failed—to tear us apart. The mark was still angry and red, but healing. Just like Galan himself. No longer the solitary guardian at the edge of clan territory, no longer defined by his father’s disgrace. He’d found his own path, one that led straight to me.

“My orc.”