Page 11 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc (Silvermist Mates #3)

GALAN

Hannah’s hand slipped into mine as we approached One Hop Stop, her fingers twining with mine like they belonged there. The evening air carried the scent of pine and woodsmoke, mingling with Hannah’s winter-mint essence that had become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat. The low hum of conversation and laughter spilled from the brewery’s open windows, along with warm light that painted golden patterns across the cobblestone path.

A month ago, that sound would have sent me retreating to the solitude of my cabin. Now, with Hannah’s palm pressed against mine, I felt something unexpected—anticipation, not dread. She anchored me, a silent reminder that I wasn’t walking into clan territory alone.

The mate mark I’d left on her neck peeked out from beneath her hair as she twisted to face me. My mark. My claim. My chest swelled with pride every time I caught sight of it.

“Are you going to tell them?” Hannah asked quietly, her voice quiet enough that only I could hear.

I tore my eyes away and met hers, taking in the slight furrow between her brows. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Her lips pursed, but she didn’t press as I pulled the door open. The familiar scent of hops and wood smoke wrapped around us. I scanned the room, my hand settling protectively at the small of Hannah’s back.

Vanin looked up from behind the bar, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. “Well, shit.” He set down the glass he’d been polishing. “Did someone drag you here by force?”

“Not planning on making it a habit,” I grunted, but there was no real heat behind it. “The clan’s standards are slipping enough as it is.”

Vanin snorted, sliding pints toward us without asking for our orders. “Go on, they’ve claimed the back tables. You break anything, you buy it.”

I ignored the warning, taking a long pull from my beer. The rich, malty flavor hit my tongue—Vanin’s special reserve, not the watered-down shit he served to tourists. The gesture wasn’t lost on me.

“Galan!” Torain’s voice boomed across the room. “Over here!”

I turned to see my cousin waving from a large table in the corner, surrounded by other clan members. These post-market gatherings used to feel like obligations I avoided at all costs.

Now, with Hannah beside me, the room seemed less hostile. Less like a trap.

We threaded through the crowded bar, Hannah’s hand still firmly in mine. Torain was the first to reach us, clapping me on the shoulder with a grin that split his face.

“Finally decided to grace us with your presence!” He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my side where he knew the wound lay beneath my shirt. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” I said flatly, shifting away from his scrutiny. I hadn’t come for their pity.

“Good to see you up and about,” Zral said, sliding over to make room. His eyes flicked to Hannah’s neck, then to our joined hands, but he said nothing. “Thought you’d be dead by now.”

I settled onto the bench, Hannah beside me, and raised my glass. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“So,” Carissa leaned forward, excitement brightening her face. “I was just telling everyone about the next Paint-and-Sip night at the bookstore next weekend. You two should come!”

I took another swig of beer. “No.”

“It’ll be fun,” she pressed, undeterred. “We’ve got a local artist coming in to teach?—”

“Not interested. ”

“You don’t have to be good at it,” Carissa continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “That’s what the ‘sip’ part is for.”

“I don’t paint.”

Hannah nudged me with her elbow. “Come on, it could be fun. Who knows mountains better than you?”

I shot her a betrayed look. “That’s very different, and you know it.”

“I’ll be Hannah’s date,” Miranda chimed in and winked. “We can make it a girls’ night.”

Hannah laughed, the sound warming something in my chest despite my scowl. “Settled. I’m ditching the orc for my one true love of alcohol and bad influences.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching upward. The conversation flowed around us, Hannah’s laughter mingling with Miranda’s as they plotted their artistic adventure. Something settled in me as I watched Hannah slip so easily into conversation with my clan. With my family.

She belonged here as much as I did—maybe more. She leaned in to discuss wine options with Carissa, her hands animated as she spoke. The two of them had their heads together now, Carissa pulling up pictures on her phone while Hannah nodded appreciatively. Zral lifted his head from his phone long enough to waggle his eyebrows and offer inappropriate suggestions that made Hannah snort with laughter.

“I need another drink,” I announced, pushing back from the table.

Osen approached the bar a moment later, Torain close behind. “Heard the news,” my cousin said, his voice pitched low. “About the ranger position.”

So that’s what had them circling like vultures. I sighed, accepting the fresh beer Vanin slid across the bar. “It makes sense. I know the territory better than anyone. And the borders between clan land and the park have always been... flexible.”

“It’s perfect,” Osen said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You’ve always been more comfortable in the woods than in Grimstone anyway.”

“The elders approved it unanimously,” Torain added, fighting—and failing—to keep his grin contained. “Though I suspect that’s partly because they want you out of their hair.”

“My father would have hated it.” I turned the glass in my hands, watching the amber liquid catch the light.

“Which probably means it’s exactly right,” Osen finished, understanding in his eyes.

I nodded, something loosening in my chest. For so long, I’d measured my choices against what Coth would want and what would earn his approval. Even after his exile, his shadow had loomed large. Too large.

Not anymore.

When we returned to the table, Zral was hunched over his phone, thumbs tapping rapidly across the screen. Torain set down the drinks and peered over his shoulder before Zral could hide the screen.

Torain’s eyes widened comically. “Holy shit, Zral’s on MythMatch! ”

The table erupted. Miranda lunged across the table, grabbing for the phone. “Let me see your profile!”

Carissa leaned in, all business. “I can help you optimize your metrics. It’s all about the right keywords and photo selection.”

Zral snatched his phone back, but his usual scowl had softened into something almost resembling amusement. “It’s just for fun,” he insisted, tucking the phone into his pocket. “Not all of us are looking to get domesticated like you sad bastards.”

“Sure it is,” Torain grinned, dropping back into his seat. “You need a better profile picture. That one makes you look constipated.”

Zral’s phone lit up with a notification just as his gaze darted to the door. A slow smile spread across his face as he spotted whoever had entered.

“Don’t wait up,” he extracted himself from the table and crossed to greet his match.

Hannah leaned against my side. She tilted her head to look up at me, her green eyes reflecting the warm lights of the bar. “Glad we came?”

I glanced around at the table—at Miranda and Osen, heads bent close in conversation; at Carissa showing Torain something on her phone that had him laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink; at the clan members who’d nodded to me in respect, not pity, when I entered.

“It’s not as terrible as I expected,” I admitted.

Hannah smiled, pressing closer. Her scent—winter air and mint—wrapped around me, as familiar now as my own. The mate mark on her neck seemed to pulse with our shared heartbeat.

For years, I’d defined my territory by what it wasn’t—not Grimstone, not the human world. I’d carved out a space at the edges, convinced that’s where I belonged.

Now I understood. My true territory was the space between worlds, where Hannah and I belonged together. Where magic and mundane coexisted, where witch and orc created something new.

My father had taught me that a warrior defined himself by what he guarded against. What he kept out. Hannah had shown me something different—that strength came from what you let in. Who you let in.

Hannah’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my thigh, her touch inching higher with each circle. “What do you say we follow Zral’s example?” she murmured, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Make an early exit?”

Her smile—wicked and sweet all at once—was all the territory I’d ever need.

I drained my glass in one long swallow and stood, pulling her up with me. “Lead the way, witch.”