A flicker of hope breaks through the devastation that's been carved into every line of his face.
"You are certain?"
"Yes." I reach up, covering his big hands with my own much smaller ones, holding them against my cheeks. "I'm so certain it terrifies me. I've never been this certain about anything in my entire life. I love you, Lanek. I love your ridiculous traditional courtship gifts and your protective instincts and the way you look at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters. I love that you learned municipal zoning laws for me. I love that you recorded felonies instead of committing assault. I love every single impossible, overwhelming, too-much part of you."
For one endless moment, he just stares at me, those dark eyes wide and unguarded, and I realize with a sharp jolt that I've never actually said those words to him before.
That in all our fighting and kissing and claiming, I never once told him I loved him.
His throat works visibly, like he's trying to swallow around something too big to fit.
"Say it again."
"I love you."
A low, rumbling sound vibrates through his chest, something between a growl and a purr that I feel against my palms.
"Again."
"I love you, Lanek Grieves." The tears are still falling, but I'm smiling now, wide and helpless. "I love you and your bone saw and your ridiculous shoulders and your traditional Orc logic and the way you smell like woodsmoke and black pepper. I love all of it. I'm never letting you leave."
He makes that sound again, deeper this time, and then he's kissing me, hard and possessive and absolutely devastating, one hand sliding into my hair while the other wraps around me and lifts me clean off the floor.
I cling to him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his black t-shirt, feeling the solid heat of muscle underneath as I kiss him back with everything I have. Everything I've been holding back, all the fear and love and desperate need I've been too terrified to name.
When he finally pulls back, breaking the kiss with obvious reluctance, I'm breathless and dizzy and completely wrecked in the best possible way. My lips feel swollen, my face is still wet with tears, and I don't think I've ever been happier in my entire life.
"You are mine," he rumbles against my mouth. Those dark eyes are locked on my face.
Now it just makes me feel safe.
"Yes."
"You will not push me away again."
"No. Never again."
"You will tell me when I am being too much instead of letting it build until you break." His thumb strokes along my jaw, careful despite the size of his hand. "You will use your words, little baker. Not run."
I nod, still not quite trusting my voice to come out steady, the lump making it hard to breathe properly.
"Good." He sets me down carefully, my feet finding the floor again, but he keeps one massive hand anchored at my waist like he's afraid I'll disappear if he lets go completely. Like I'm something precious that needs to be handled with care. "Now. You will sit."
I blink up at him, confused by the sudden shift in tone. "What?"
"Sit." He steers me toward the heavy wooden stool near his primary workstation, the one he uses when he's doing detailed butchery work. "You brought me a gift. I will honor it properly."
I'm still confused, wiping at my tear-streaked face with the sleeve of my cardigan, when he crosses back to where I dropped the sad, lumpy meat pie on his counter.
He picks it up with both hands, cradling it like it's made of spun glass instead of burnt pastry and questionable structural integrity. His massive palms dwarf the sad little thing, making it look even more pathetic than it did sitting abandoned on his counter.
"Lanek, you don't have to?—"
"You made this for me."
"It's terrible. I know it's terrible. I'm a dessert baker, not a—" My protest dies as I watch him lift the pie closer to his face, examining it with the same careful attention he gives to his premium cuts.
He takes a bite.
