Ember 25, 2999 | 12:30 PM – Ironhowl Kin Quarters, Duskhaven Outskirts
The crowd still echoed with celebration as Shiro turned to leave the ring, Grakka's hand still warm in his.
But then—
A voice.
Low. Drunk. Disrespectful.
"Look at him walkin' off like a champion—with his little stable of surface whores."
Laughter. Orc laughter. Bitter, sharp.
Wrong move.
Shiro vanished.
The jeering orc—a seven-foot brute with spiked armor and bone earrings—barely got to blink before Shiro reappeared behind him, grabbed the back of his head like a basketball, and slammed him face-first into the stone wall of the arena with a thunderous CRACK.
The impact shook the ground. Dust plumed. The orc slumped, unconscious—or worse.
Silence fell.
Every other warrior tensed. No one moved.
Another orc reached for his blade, but flinched when Shiro slowly turned toward him, fangs glinting, gold eyes glowing—wild and unblinking. His killing aura spilled like smoke, thick and hot. It crawled into their bones.
Grakka's father stepped forward, about to shout.
Then stopped.
His body locked up mid-stride as that bloodthirsty aura brushed him.
This beast…
Shiro could feel him hesitate.
A second passed.
Then another.
Grakka calmly walked out, not hurried, not surprised. Her voice was smooth as thunderclouds before the storm.
"Come on, baby. Let 'em sit in their shame."
Shiro blinked.
The storm behind his eyes faded.
He gave the others one last cold glance… then turned and walked off like nothing happened.
Back to the platform. Back to her.
He greeted her parents at the top of the terrace like a man who hadn't just turned someone's skull into a crater.
Grakka's mom smiled wide and offered her hand. "Nice to meet you properly, Shiro. You're very strong. But the real question is… can you handle my daughter?"
Shiro grinned as he shook her hand, leaning in slightly. "The better question is… can your daughter handle me?"
Grakka's father groaned.
Grakka's mom laughed. "I like him."
⸻
1:04 PM – Grakka's Private Quarters
The Ironhowl stronghold sprawled across the cliffs—part tribal, part technological. One section pulsed with warmth and ambient lights: the Warlord's Wing.
Zarrah, Lena, Rena, and the others followed Shiro and Grakka into a towering obsidian-paneled structure.
Rena paused at the door. "…This ain't a hut."
Shiro raised a brow as the auto-doors slid open. "Y'all got smartglass floors and arcane vents?"
Grakka side-eyed him. "We don't live like we just discovered fire, beastman."
Inside, the decor surprised them—modern and primal in harmony. Beast skulls over glowing hearths. Silken bedding and arcane chillers. A full bar stocked with exotic brews.
"Damn," Zarrah said. "Grak been holdin' out."
"Make yourselves at home," Grakka said casually, tossing her shoulder guard aside. "But stay out my personal stash."
Shiro nodded, heading down the hallway.
"Where the bathroom at?"
Grakka pointed. "Third door on the left."
He strolled down the hallway, already loosening his belt, when the door opened.
He stepped in—
—and the door clicked shut behind him.
"Grak—?"
She was already there.
Pressed up against him.
Eyes glowing. Breathing heavy. Hunger rolling off her in waves.
She shoved him back against the stone wall, his head thudding lightly before her lips crashed into his. Fierce. Wet. Claiming.
Shiro smirked mid-kiss. "We really doin' this in the bathroom?"
Grakka growled. "I need you right now. You saw how they looked at you. Smelled it. I need to mark you again before one of them gets stupid."
Her hands were already pulling at his waistband.
"Damn, woman—" he grunted as she dropped to her knees like a predator circling prey.
Her tusks brushed teasingly along his thigh, but she didn't bite—not yet. Just licked up his length with a slow, deliberate drag of her tongue, golden eyes locked on his.
Shiro's hand gripped the stone behind him.
She took him into her mouth fully, like she'd done this ritual a thousand times. No hesitation, no mercy—just soul-sucking heat.
Slurping. Wet. Messy.
Each motion sent a pulse through his core, hips twitching as she worked her throat like a beast in heat.
He gritted his teeth. "Fuck… Grak—shit…"
She didn't stop. Didn't blink.
Not until he grabbed her by the braids and tilted her head back, panting.
"You tryna kill me in your dad's house?"
She licked her lips. "Tried? I ain't done."
She stood, kissed him hard, and spun around.
"Fuck me. Right now. I want my scent in your soul."
Shiro grabbed her hips, slamming into her from behind like instinct guided every thrust.
Grakka moaned loud, the sound primal and rich. "Yessss… take it. Make it yours."
Their bodies clapped together like thunder.
Hard. Heated. Territorial.
He gripped her tighter. "You feel what you started?"
She nodded wildly, back arched, breath gone.
Shiro leaned in, biting her shoulder gently. "You wanted this. Now take it."
And she did.
Every inch.
Every pulse.
She took all of him like she was starving to be claimed again.
And when they came—together, raw, and shaking—she collapsed into his chest, panting and giggling.
"Damn… now they all gon' smell me on you."
Shiro chuckled, brushing sweat-damp hair from her face. "They already did. Now they just know it's permanent."
She kissed his jaw and smacked his chest. "Come on. We gotta clean up before my mom finds out and tries to give us advice."
Shiro grinned.
"Too late. She probably heard the echo."
2:18 PM – Ironhowl Quarters, Warlord's Den
The sun had shifted by the time the rest of the group settled on the large, curved couch inside Grakka's private lounge.
Zarrah stretched, flipping through channels on the enchanted crystal screen. Rena curled up beside her with a drink in hand, tails draped across her lap. Lena sat crossed-legged, fidgeting with her nails, pretending she wasn't annoyed.
They all looked too damn good to be this still.
And they all knew it.
"I swear…" Zarrah muttered, sipping. "She gon' break the whole damn room."
"She deserves today," Rena murmured with a sly smirk. "Let her claim what's hers."
Lena rolled her eyes but exhaled. "I'm letting her have it… but the moment I hear wood cracking, I'm reinforcing everything."
⸻
2:22 PM – Bathing Quarters
Steam drifted through the ceremonial bathing hall.
A wide stone tub sat sunken into the floor, heated by lava vents beneath. The water glowed faintly with cleansing runes, herbal oils swirling on the surface like shimmered ink.
Shiro leaned back in the tub, arms stretched out over the edge, steam rising from his chest.
Grakka straddled him slowly, easing into the warmth with a soft sigh, facing him.
Her hands rested against his chest as their bodies melted into the heat, droplets tracing their skin like worship.
No words for a while.
Just glances.
Touch.
Breath.
Then her fingers slid up his jawline, her voice soft, unguarded. "You looked unstoppable out there… but I think this is where you scare me the most."
He blinked, brow raised. "Why?"
She leaned in, forehead to his. "Because no one's ever made me feel this much. Not in my blood. Not in my bones."
Shiro's hand ran down her back slowly, cupping the base of her spine. "Good. I want you to feel me—everywhere."
Her lips trembled—not from lust, but from the deep, rooted emotion behind her amber gaze.
The possessiveness faded.
And something gentler took hold.
Grakka whispered, "I love you."
Shiro didn't smile.
He didn't joke.
He just pressed his lips to hers—slow, warm, and reverent.
That was his answer.
⸻
3:01 PM – Grakka's Bedroom
The lights dimmed with the fall of sun behind the cliffs.
Grakka's room was a shrine of her legacy—trophies from hunts, pelts layered over a king-sized tribal bed, carved stone bowls filled with oils, and primal instruments humming soft rhythmic notes through the air. Everything smelled of spice, smoke, and heat.
Shiro walked in carrying her gently, her legs wrapped around him, both wrapped in thin towels.
He dropped her onto the fur-covered bed like a prize, staring down at her glowing body.
She pulled him down with her. "Let them stare."
He didn't even ask.
He just kissed her again—deeper now.
Their auras flickered. Souls synced. It wasn't just sex. Not this time.
It was ritual.
Grakka's hands roamed his body like she was memorizing a god.
She whispered things only he could hear. Ancient orcish blessings… and filthy promises.
The room vibrated with tension.
And that's when Lena, Zarrah, and Rena cracked open the door.
They peeked in.
And immediately froze.
Grakka and Shiro didn't even notice.
Rena whispered, "We said we'd just watch…"
Zarrah's eyes were locked. "This… this is beautiful."
Lena's mouth parted slightly, already reinforcing the walls with a quick gesture. Soundproofing spells thickened, glowing softly in the corners.
"Something tells me this whole damn bed's about to shatter."
None of them could look away.
Because what they were witnessing… wasn't just heat.
It was claiming.
And Grakka?
She was finally letting herself be loved.