Page 2 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc (Silvermist Mates #3)

CHAPTER TWO

HANNAH

M agic surged wildly, reaching for the orc like a living thing. Power crackled across my skin, licking along my nerve endings. Hungry. Desperate. Searching for an outlet.

A pathway.

He came to a stop on my side of the circle. Orcs ran big—everyone knew that—but seeing it in person was different. Broad shoulders blocked out the moonlight, casting me in his shadow. Dark hair had come loose from its tie, falling around a face that could have been carved from stone. He snarled, his tusks gleaming in the purple light.

“You absolute idiot.” I shoved to my feet, barely keeping my balance as the magic pulsed between us. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Weeks of research. Careful planning. Everything had to be perfect if I wanted any chance of breaking Digby’s curse. The purple mushrooms only grew in the places where ley lines crossed. Finding them had been hard enough, then arranging them in the proper formation while maintaining the energy flow...

And this territorial asshole just blundered straight through my protections.

“Stopping whatever corruption you’re working into my land.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder, dark satisfaction curling through the words.

“Corruption?” I barked out a laugh. “You think this is—” The magic shifted, coiling tighter around us. Fuck. I needed him gone. Now. Before the magic twisted completely and took root where I didn’t want. “This is a purification circle, you paranoid jackass.”

Was. Heat bloomed where it touched, spreading through my veins like liquid fire. Oh no. No, no, no. This was not supposed to turn into that kind of ritual.

His eyes narrowed, pupils blown wide. “I’ve seen the unnatural things you play at. I know how this darkness tears families apart.”

“That’s not—” My breath caught as another wave of power rolled through me. Through us both, judging by how his massive chest heaved. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He took another step, forcing me back. He towered over me, muscles coiled tight beneath his shirt. “I know what magic is, witch, and I despise it.”

The sneer in his voice caught me off guard. This wasn’t just territorial posturing—this was personal. But I didn’t have time to unpack his trauma. The ritual’s energy spiraled higher, drawn to him like iron to a lodestone.

Heat pooled in my belly, a blush creeping across my cheeks. There was no escaping it. Not with the magic locked onto him as a conduit. I tried to shake off the rising arousal, but it only spread lower. Between my legs, aching for something I knew I shouldn’t want. Shouldn’t need.

Not now. Not like this. Digby needed me.

The orc crowded closer, growling under his breath. It vibrated through me, stirring the desire I couldn’t quite quash. Stupid. Fucking. Body.

“What trick is this?” He dragged his tongue across his lower lip. “What have you done to make me want?—”

His mouth opened and closed like he couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t say them out loud. But his hips rocked, body betraying how badly it ached. Judging by the bulge straining at his jeans, I wasn’t the only one struggling to stay focused.

“It’s not a trick.” Desire flooded me at the sight. An answering call, roaring through my veins. Urging me to cross the remaining space. To let him sate the need clawing at me from the inside out. “It’s truth.”

For all his accusations of corruption, he caused the problem. Ignoring my warnings, stepping into my circle, drawing my magic directly into his system. He’d taken what was designed to bring Digby back to living form, and instead created this feedback loop of lust between us.

“Liar.” But his voice had gone rough. “I don’t want a witch.”

“Prove it.” I lifted my chin. “Walk away.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Tell me what ‘truth’ you seek in my woods first.”

I turned away, desperate to salvage what I could of the ritual. His hand snapped out, fingers circling my wrist and yanking me back. I shoved against his chest, but he just used the momentum to pull me closer.

“None of your business.” I twisted in his grip, only to find myself pressed fully against him. Heat radiated through his thin shirt, and goddess, I could feel every ridge of muscle. “Let go.”

“My territory makes it my business.” His free hand slid into my hair, forcing me to meet his burning gaze. “Tell me what you’re hiding, witch.”

I tried to wrench away, but he just tightened his hold. My pulse hammered where his fingers pressed against my wrist. The magic swirled tighter, hotter, until I couldn’t tell if it was the ritual or my own desperate need making me arch against the thigh pressed between mine.

“Make me.”

I surged up, meaning to headbutt him or bite him or something equally violent. Instead, my mouth crashed against his. His growl vibrated through my chest as he hauled me impossibly closer. I grabbed his shirt, intending to push him away. My fingers curled into the fabric instead, dragging him down to deepen the kiss.

He tasted like mountain air and fury. Like every bad decision I’d ever wanted to make. His tusks scraped my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine. I bit him in retaliation, earning another growl that made heat pool low in my belly.

“I hate witches,” he snarled against my mouth.

I yanked his hair, forcing his head back. “I hate territorial assholes.”

His hands slid to my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Good. I wanted the marks. Wanted proof that this was real and not just some fever dream brought on by magical backlash.

“Then why are you here?” He nipped along my jaw, the scrape of his tusks sending shivers down my spine. “What’s so important you’d risk pissing me off?”

My ritual circle pulsed around us, the magic demanding more. Closer. Deeper. Even through layers of denim, I felt how hard he was. How much he wanted this, no matter what bullshit came out of his mouth.

Fuck. I needed... I needed to focus. To remember why I was here. What was at stake.

“My familiar.” The words tumbled out as he mouthed down my throat. “I need to save him.” I gasped as his teeth found my pulse point. “He’s cursed.”

The orc stilled, pulling back just far enough to meet my gaze. Suspicion warred with curiosity in those dark eyes. “A curse?”

“Digby took a gorgon’s blast meant for me.” My fingers were still tangled in his hair. I couldn’t seem to let go. “He saved my life and got turned to stone for his trouble.”

Understanding flickered through his dark eyes. Then determination. His mouth crashed back to mine, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. Need clawed through me, fed by the ritual’s wild magic and my own desperate hunger.

I owed Digby everything. My life. My sanity. My one true friend who’d never asked for anything in return. I would break this curse. I would save him.

But right now, with this infuriating orc’s hands branded on my skin and his taste on my tongue, all I could think about was how much I wanted him to never stop kissing me like this.

The magic pulsed again, and we both groaned as another wave of heat rolled through us. I shoved at his shirt, desperate to feel skin. To ground myself in something real before I lost myself completely in the maelstrom.

He released me just long enough for me to rip the offending fabric over his head. I caught a glimpse of tattoos curling around his powerful arms, then his hands were on me again, one wrapping around my throat—not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. The other slid under my sweater, calloused fingers dragging across my ribs.

“Fuck,” he growled against my throat. “You feel...”

I knew exactly what he meant. Every brush of skin on skin sent sparks racing along my nerves. Like my entire body had become one giant livewire, and he was the only thing keeping me from flying apart.

I arched into his touch with a needy whine I barely recognized as my own. “More.”

He hesitated for half a heartbeat. Then his thumb brushed my nipple through my bra, and holy fuck, the size difference. His hand nearly spanned my entire ribcage.

“You like that?” His voice had dropped to a dangerous rumble. “Being manhandled by a monster?”

I bit his lower lip. Hard. “You’re not nearly monstrous enough yet.”

Something dark and hungry flashed in his eyes. He shoved my shirt up, exposing my breasts to the cool night air. The lace of my bra did nothing to hide how my nipples had hardened into tight peaks.

“Pretty.” He traced one peak with his thumb. “Delicate.” His fingers closed around my breast, squeezing just shy of pain. “Breakable.”

I grabbed his wrist, grinding my hips against his thigh. “I don’t break easy.”

He made a sound like he wanted to test that theory. His mouth replaced his hand, hot and wet through the thin fabric. I clutched his shoulders as he sucked hard, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core.

“Fuck.” My nails dug into his skin. “Please. I need?—”

His growl vibrated through my chest as he yanked the cups down. The first touch of his tongue on my bare nipple had me crying out. He switched between gentle licks and sharp nips, driving me wild.

“What?” His free hand slid down my stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of my jeans. Teasing. Testing. “What do you need, witch? Tell me.”

The order in his tone sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs. I should have been embarrassed by how quickly I spread my legs. How eagerly I pressed into his touch. But the magic had burned away any pretense of shame.

“Touch me,” I demanded. “Make me come.”

A wicked smile curved his lips. He lowered me to the ground with surprising gentleness, cushioning my head with one massive hand. Then he was hovering over me, all rippling muscle and barely contained strength.

I lifted my hips in silent invitation, and he made quick work of the zipper. The cold air barely registered as he dragged my jeans down my thighs, leaving me exposed to his ravenous gaze.

The first brush of his fingers against my clit had me arching off the ground with a strangled cry. He circled the sensitive bud slowly. Too slowly .

“So wet.” His voice held an edge of wonder. “So fucking wet for me.”

I tried to snap something witty. Something about how it was the magic, not him. But then he slid one thick finger inside me, and all rational thought fled. I wanted this. Wanted him. I wanted to crash against that fury and raw masculinity, feel all that power drive deep home.

“Please.” I rocked against his palm, chasing more friction. “Harder.”

He added a second finger as his thumb continued working my clit. Pleasure built in waves, drowning out everything but the sensation of him filling me. Claiming me.

I buried my face in his shoulder, biting down on sweat-slick skin. He growled, fucking me deeper. His thumb pressed hard, just on the edge of painful, and I shattered around his fingers. He worked me through it, drawing out my release until I collapsed against the forest floor with a shuddering gasp.

When I finally managed to pry my eyes open, I found him watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. Wonder, maybe. Mixed with something darker. Hungrier.

I reached for his belt, suddenly desperate to level the playing field. To make him fall apart the way I just had. I fumbled with the clasp, fingers still clumsy from orgasm. But I managed to shove his jeans down far enough to free his cock .

My mouth went dry at the sight of him. Long and thick. So fucking thick. The head already glistening with precum. Goddess, he’d be huge inside me. My core clenched at the thought, fresh heat flooding my pussy.

“See something you like?” But there was tension beneath the taunt. A flicker of uncertainty in those dark eyes.

I answered by wrapping my hand around him, relishing his groan of pleasure. His hips jerked into my touch, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest. I stroked him experimentally, testing how much pressure he liked. His head fell forward, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he rocked into my fist.

My thumb brushed a thick vein running along the underside of his shaft, and he shuddered. “Witch.”

Then I was shoving him onto his back, taking control. His hands settled on my hips as I positioned myself over him. The first press of his cock against my entrance had us both gasping. Fuck, he was huge. I worked him in slowly, giving my body time to adjust to the stretch.

“Gods.” His fingers dug into my skin. “You feel incredible.”

I leaned down, nipping at his lower lip. “I thought you hated witches.”

He bucked up, slamming deep. I cried out at the sudden fullness, nails digging into his chest. “Shut up and move. ”

I snickered, the sound turning into a moan as he hit just the right spot. I braced my hands on his chest and rolled my hips, chasing that delicious fullness. Slowly at first, then faster as our bodies found a rhythm.

The magic roiled through us both, amplifying every touch. My thighs burned with the effort of maintaining the rhythm, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not when each stroke drove the haze of need higher. Not when his eyes blazed with hunger as he watched me take my pleasure from his body.

His hands slid to my ass, urging me to move faster. To ride him harder. And oh goddess, he felt incredible. Huge and hot and everywhere. My vision blurred as pleasure washed over me, drowning out everything but his touch and the ragged sounds that spilled from his lips.

He sat up, changing the angle. One arm wrapped around my waist, the other tangling in my hair to pull my head back. His mouth latched onto my throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

“Come for me.” His voice shook with barely restrained need. “Want to feel a witch fall apart on my cock.”

The sound he made then—part snarl, part plea—was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. His control slipped, thrusts becoming sloppier. Deeper. Harder. Until we were both gasping for breath, clinging to each other like the world might end if either of us dared let go .

White-hot pleasure coursed through me as I shattered. He swore savagely as I clamped down around him, grinding deeper into my heat. One final thrust, and he followed me over the edge with a roar.

Magic surged through the circle, releasing its hold on us both. The dregs of power snapped back into me, dissipating into harmless sparks. For a moment, I saw the currents flowing through the world below me. Mountains and valleys and rivers of pure energy.

We collapsed in a tangle of sweaty limbs, both panting heavily. For a long moment, neither of us moved. The magic slowly faded, leaving behind a bone-deep satisfaction.

Then reality came crashing back.

I scrambled away from him, stumbling to where Digby’s statue sat unmoved among the now-dark mushrooms.

“No, no, no...” I traced the cold stone, searching for any hint of warmth. Any sign of life.

Nothing.

The ritual had failed. All my research, the precise timing and location with the ley lines, the rare mushrooms—wasted.

“Did it work?” The orc’s voice held genuine curiosity beneath the lingering roughness.

I whirled on him, fury replacing our earlier heat. “Of course it didn’t work! You broke the circle, you arrogant—” I bit off the insult, gathering my scattered supplies with shaking hands. “Do you have any idea how long it took to figure out this ritual? How rare these mushrooms are?”

He rose to his feet, impossibly tall and broad in the moonlight. Any other time, I might have appreciated the view. Now, I just wanted to throttle him.

“You’re the one performing unauthorized magic in my territory?—”

“And you’re the one who couldn’t keep his territorial bullshit in check for five more minutes!” I snatched up my shirt, yanking it over my head. “I was so close. If you’d just left me alone?—”

“Left you alone?” He scoffed. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you straight to the village elders. Outsiders aren’t welcome here, witch. Especially not ones working magic on sacred ground.”

We glared at each other, chests heaving. The air between us crackled with renewed tension. But this time, there was no magic to blame. Just anger and frustration and the sinking realization of what we’d done.

“Get off my land.” His voice was cold. “You and your filthy magic aren’t welcome here.”

“Gladly.” I shoved the last of my supplies into my bag, and met his glare with one of my own. “And next time? Stay the fuck out of my way.”

“Oh?” One eyebrow arched in challenge. “Planning on trespassing again?”

“I don’t have a choice.” I hefted Digby’s statue, cradling it close to my chest. “This is the only place with shadow caps and a strong enough ley line intersection needed for the ritual.”

His answering growl sent shivers down my spine. “Try it. See what happens.”

I stormed into the trees, leaving him standing in the wreckage of my failed ritual. Angry tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

I’d lost control. Let myself get distracted from what really mattered. And now Digby would pay the price.

Never again.

Next time, I’d be ready. And no arrogant orc—no matter how good he felt inside me—would stop me from saving my familiar.