Page 41 of Protective Pucking Orc

And I knew the way she’d looked at me tonight.

Like she wanted to know more.

My cock twitched again, and I groaned, rolling onto my side, my fists clenched against the mattress.

Patience.

I’d waited this long, and I could wait longer.

But gods, it was hard.

The next few days passed in a blur of careful routine.

Rosa became more at ease in the house—our home, though I couldn’t let myself think of it that way without an ache in my chest—her laughter filling the halls, her small body a warm, chattering presence wherever she went.

She asked me to read to her every evening when I returned from the rink, curling against my side on the couch, her dark head tucked under my arm as I read her stories of dragons and heroes and far-off lands. She mispronounced every Orcish word I taught her, her tongue tripping over the guttural sounds, but the way her eyes lit up when she got one right made my chest ache.

Kara. Sun.

Veth. Home.

Dkaar. Beloved.

She butchered them all, and I loved her for it.

Gods below, how I loved this tiny little human already!

Sofia, meanwhile, was healing.

The bruises on her face faded from sickly purple to dull yellow, the swelling around her eye receding. She moved easier, her steps lighter, her smile coming more freely. She no longer winced when she laughed too hard, and I didn’t see any hitch in her movements when she used her left wrist.

And she started asking questions.

Small ones, at first.

“Do orcs…have spouses like humans do?”

“Yes,” I said carefully, watching her from the armchair as she sat on the couch, her fingers idly flipping through one of my favorite paperbacks. “Though our bonds are…different.”

“Different how?”

I hesitated. “Deeper. More…inevitable.”

She frowned. “Like arranged marriages?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Like…” How to explain? “Mate Bonds are like the mountains. Like the rivers wearing them down. It’s not a choice—it’s deeper than that.”

Her dark eyes studied me, curious. “That sounds…intense.”

I exhaled, my claws flexing against the armrest. “It is.” And completely miraculous.

She didn’t ask more that night, but the next evening, as we sat in the den—me in the armchair, her on the couch, the fire crackling between us—she asked, “Lila said she can feel Kardok. Like, his emotions. Is that…normal?”

I kept my voice steady. “For Mates, yes.”

“Mates.”

“Yes.”