"Why?" The question erupts from some desperate place deep in my chest. "Why do you care? Is this just about repaying a debt? Because if so, consider it paid. You've taught us enough survival skills to last through winter, given us more than we ever?—"
"No." His hand finally makes contact, his large palm cupping my face with surprising gentleness. "It has nothing to do with debt."
The warmth of his skin against mine sends electricity racing through my nervous system, short-circuiting rational thought. I should pull away. Should maintain the distance that keeps us both safe from complications neither of us can afford. Instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, drawn to the steady strength he represents.
"Then why?" I whisper, my breath creating small clouds in the cold air between us.
He's quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone with reverent care. When he speaks, his words carry the weight of truth spoken for the first time.
"Because I've come to care for you both. Because the thought of walking away, of not knowing what happens to you and Eira, feels like tearing away part of myself." His other hand rises to frame my face completely, holding me as though I'm something precious rather than a burden he's acquired through circumstance. "Because in a matter of days, you've become more important to me than duties I've honored my entire adult life."
The admission hangs in the air between us, raw and vulnerable, changing the fundamental nature of everything that's passed between us. This isn't obligation or temporaryalliance. This is something deeper, more dangerous, infinitely more complex.
"You remember what you told me about the first snow?" he continues, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "About winter bringing magic?"
I nod, unable to trust my voice.
"You and Eira—you're what the winter brought me. What my life needed without me even knowing it was missing." His forehead drops to rest against mine, his breath warm against my lips. "Don't ask me to walk away from that. I won't be able to stand it."
Every carefully constructed wall around my heart crumbles under the weight of his words. The sincerity in his voice, the gentleness of his touch, the way he speaks about Eira as though she's already precious to him—it all combines to create something I haven't felt since before the world turned gray and desperate.
Hope. Dangerous, foolish hope that maybe safety can exist in unexpected places. That maybe trust can be earned through actions rather than words. That maybe the winter really has brought magic in the form of an orc chieftain who carves toys for my daughter and looks at me like I'm worth protecting.
"I don't know," I breathe, the admission costing everything I have. "I don't know if I can do this. If I can trust you with her. With us."
"Then don't decide tonight." His voice carries infinite patience, infinite understanding. "But don't make me leave you here. Please."
The 'please' undoes me completely. This powerful, dangerous man—this chieftain who commands warriors and inspires fear in his enemies—asking rather than demanding. Requesting rather than taking. Offering protection without expecting anything in return except the chance to provide it.
I can't keep pushing him away. Don't want to anymore. The walls I've built to protect my heart have become a prison, and he's offering me the key to my own cell. I don't know if I can trust him with our future, but I know I can trust him with this moment.
Instead of answering with words that feel inadequate to express the tangle of emotions in my chest, I close the distance between us and press my lips to his.
The kiss starts tentative, questioning, my way of asking if this is real or just desperation disguised as hope. But the moment our mouths connect, something ignites between us that has nothing to do with circumstance and everything to do with want—pure, undeniable want that I've never allowed myself to feel.
His lips are warm and firm against mine, carrying the taste of winter air and something uniquely him that makes my head spin. When he responds, deepening the kiss with careful pressure, I feel his restraint—the way he holds himself back, letting me control the pace and intensity. Even in this, he's protecting me, ensuring I never feel overwhelmed or pushed beyond my comfort.
My hands find the front of his leather coat, gripping the material as though anchoring myself against the storm of sensation threatening to sweep me away. He's solid beneath my touch, real and warm and present in ways that make the rest of the world fade to insignificance. His arms encircle me, pulling me closer until I'm pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, surrounded by his presence and his scent and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
I'm breathless and shaking—not from cold but from the intensity of connection I never expected to find in the middle of a frozen forest with danger closing in from all sides.
I don't know what comes next. Don't know if I can bring myself to follow him into territory that feels as dangerous asany Redmoon scout. But I know that right now, in this moment stolen from the edge of winter, I want him with an intensity that terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure.
If nothing else, I have him right now. And for the first time in longer than I can remember, 'right now' feels like enough.
14
NELRISH
The kiss ignites something primal in me, something I've kept buried beneath layers of duty and restraint for longer than I care to remember. When Mara's lips meet mine, soft and questioning at first, every carefully constructed barrier I've built around my desires crumbles like snow in a spring thaw.
She tastes like winter air and desperation, like hope wrapped in fear, and I want to devour every hesitation until all that remains is the heat building between us. Her hands clutch at my coat, anchoring herself against me, and I can feel the tremor in her touch—not from cold but from want she's trying so hard to deny.
I know she doesn't trust me. Shouldn't trust me. I'm an orc, a chieftain who commands through violence when necessary, whose hands have ended lives without hesitation when my clan's survival demanded it. Everything she's been taught about my kind screams that I'm dangerous, unpredictable, that any gentleness I show is merely a prelude to taking what I want by force.
But that doesn't stop the ache in my chest when I think about watching her disappear into the forest tomorrow. Doesn'tquiet the voice in my head suggesting I could simply take her, drag her back to Wintermaw lands where she'd be safe whether she wanted it or not. The thought has merit—practical, efficient, ensuring her protection regardless of her fears.
Instead, I lose myself in the taste of her mouth, the way she opens for me when I deepen the kiss, letting me explore the warmth behind her lips. Her tongue meets mine tentatively, then with growing confidence that sends heat racing through my blood like wildfire. She's giving herself to this moment, to me, and the trust implicit in that surrender makes my chest tight with emotions I have no business feeling.
