Page 53 of Protective Pucking Orc

He hadn’t quite said the words, but…neither had I.

Love.

It was too soon to fall in love with Dakvaar, surely? He’d rescued us, he’d cared for us. He treated me like a queen and gave me more orgasms than I could count. But that wasn’t enough to love someone, was it?

I swallowed, dropping my attention to his hand, taking it in both of mine, tracing the lines of his palm with my fingers.

“Earlier today.” I swallowed. “In the hallway. You said…”

They will love you, Sofia, because I do.

He must’ve followed my line of thought because he froze, and I was coming to realize that when Dakvaar reacted like that, it wasn’t calmness. He was fighting for control.

So I twined my fingers through his, holding my breath and wondering what, exactly, I wanted his answer to be.

Finally, he exhaled softly.

“I love you, dkaar.” Beloved. He shifted, then dropped a kiss on Rosa’s head. “And I love your daughter.”

To my surprise, I flinched, then sucked in a sharp, surprised breath even as I pulled my hand from his. It was one thing to declare his feelings for me, but Rosa too?

You’re not surprised, are you? His actions have spoken loudly.

Right, but…

But the last man to tell me he loved me had been Anthony.

In the darkness came his soft murmur. “Sofia, I’m sorry if my words bothered you. I have no right to claim feelings for you, and even less to do so for your daughter. If it would make you feel more comfortable, we can forget⁠—”

“No,” I croaked, reaching for his hand again, pulling it against my stomach, bending over it as if that would help hold in the pain. “No.”

He loved me.

He loved me, and when he saw that made me uncomfortable, he offered to take it back. Not because it wasn’t true, but because he didn’t want me to feel discomfort.

My throat was thick with emotion, tears flooding my eyes.

Dios, Anthony had never once considered what I wanted, had he?

“Sofia, I’m sorry⁠—”

“¡Dios mío!” I sobbed, hunching further over his hand, as if that would help. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

The noise he made was somewhere between a curse and a huff. Dakvaar untangled his hand from mine, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me against him, so my tears were muffled by his chest, mere inches from my sleeping daughter.

Knowing how good orc hearing was, I was glad to be all the way in the back of the bus.

“You—” I hiccupped, trying to draw breath to explain. “You asked about Anthony.”

He hesitated. “You told me it wasn’t any of my business.”

“If you love Rosa, it is.”

Dakvaar held me—I’m not sure how long—as the lights of Denver receded, the highway taking us southwest into the mountains. Toward home. He didn’t speak, and my crying slowed.

Finally, I felt his breath against my crown. “I do love her, dkaar,” he murmured. “If you’ll tell me, I will hold the knowledge in my heart.”

It sounded like some kind of orc vow, and I shuddered, realizing I was going to do it; I was going to tell him.