Page 5 of Howling Eve (Ragoru Origins #2)

Chapter Five

S kal had planned on hunting that day, but fixing the barrier that the human called a door took most of the daylight hours. Mostly because he was nothing but a perfectionist. He worked the wood until it was smooth, and using a small boring tool that whirled to life when the female returned and pushed the end into the wall, he was able to reposition the metal parts and get the door secured in place once more. Although the tools and structure were unfamiliar and different compared to the den he had prepared so long ago, once he understood what he was supposed to be doing, and how, he found a peculiar satisfaction in it. There was something about the repetitive motions, the feel of the solid wood beneath his hands, and the scent of it that calmed him as he worked.

A grunt of satisfaction left him as he tightened the last metal piece and slowly stood. His eyes narrowing on the door, he carefully closed it, his ears pricking when the door aligned just right so that it snicked shut, fitting perhaps better than it had before. A smile stole over his face, and he experimentally opened it again and moved the door back and forth to test the door’s stability. This was far better than a stretched hide. Releasing the door, Skal stretched the muscles of his back. They were tight from laboring over the door, but it was a good feeling. It spoke of accomplishment and the comfort of settling into his den and making it his own. Dragging in a deep breath of the cool air, her scent tickled his nose, drawing his attention to the lone figure picking its way through the fog toward the house with a large basket in hand.

His ears tipped toward her, taking in the soft sounds she made as she neared. The quiet draw and exhalation of her breath, the light crunch of leaves and greenery beneath her feet. Other than these soft sounds, she could easily be a living shadow herself there within the fog. An illusion to entice him from his den with the soft sway of her rounded hips with her every step. She did not have a tail to accentuate the movement, but he didn’t find any lack in that. It was her scent that teased him and called to him through the fog that made his fur prickle with wariness even as his shafts thickened within his sheath.

A soft growl left him. With the fog between them, the female was a tantalizing thing—all scent and shadow that triggered an unexpected yearning within him. It was more than a desire to simply bury his cocks within a warm female body. There was a stronger desire that rose from the depths of him that he shied away from and tried to ignore.

His human was like a nishagolin—a spirit of the land who tempted unbound males to tie them to her and consume his seed to make the forests and mountains verdant with life. In the steady light within the den, he would not have believed her to be a nishagolin, but out in the ceaseless mists of the woods and the full ache of his seedsacks filling for her as her scent engulfed him, he could believe it.

Was this how she had first seen him? A shadow of the forest come to life? As a male of his size, she doubtlessly felt no seductive call that he felt now, but an unknown predator stirring in the fog, prowling. He wanted to prowl away from the den now and stalk his sweet quarry. His cocks twitched with their eager demand, but he snapped his teeth against the growl of need that attempted to rumble through his chest as the female suddenly emerged from the fog, her eyes wide and blinking as she jerked to a stop and stared up at him as if surprised to see him there. A faint pink stain rose to her cheeks, and her plush human lips parted.

“Oh!” She took a hesitant step back.

He blinked at the scent of her fear and took a step back as well, shaking his head to clear it from the fog of lust that had flooded him. What had he been thinking? His cocks had not risen for anyone for revolutions, but they came to life for her? Not only that, but his entire ability to reason had completely deserted him, to the point of fixation on her approaching through the fog. It was alarming at best for a male who had no desire to be mixed up in such things again.

“Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you out here,” she said quietly, giving him a long, uncertain look.

Skal grunted and cleared his throat, dipping his head toward the door. “I fixed it,” he grumbled, intentionally drawing her attention to the repairs he made, all the while hating the fact that some part of him wanted her to see his work and be pleased by it.

Her large brown eyes turned the door and widened. “Oh! It looks as good as new! Better, in fact. I don’t think it ever hung quite so straight. You did this?”

The look she gave him was full of surprise but also pleasure, and it took all of his willpower not to preen like a newly mated alpha. Instead, he narrowed his eyes on her and huffed in mock offense as he pulled the door open for her.

“I am not a helpless Rog. I said I could repair the wood, and so I did,” he grumbled, gesturing to the lit interior. His muzzle wrinkled as he glanced up at the rapidly fading sunlight. “You lack fur, and it’s becoming colder. Get inside.”

Her lips pressed together, but he did not miss the faint upward hitch at the corner of her mouth. It sent a strange warmth within his belly as she passed him and stepped into the den. He ran his claws over his abdomen, scratching lightly. Perhaps he was allergic to something that the female had in her den that was making him feel odd.

“Well, it is better than Victor did,” she muttered in a low voice as she glanced toward the door in passing, and his ears twitched with curiosity even as something within him tightened darkly.

Who was Victor? A male? Skal’s lips pulled from his sharp teeth, a low growl rolling in his chest. He would not tolerate any other males there. An unwanted female was one thing. Females were to be protected. A male he did not have to suffer, nor would he.

Setting her heavy basket on the table, she unwound the thick band wrapped around her neck and peeled off her outer covering, dropping them onto the very small human sitting bench. He eyed it speculatively, uncertain if it would even hold his weight as she continued on into what appeared to be a food preparation area at an unhurried pace.

“I noticed that you like pumpkin. I cut another from the pumpkin patch at the edge of the orchards. They need less fussing over than most other plants and do well with the extra nutrients and sun that they get out there near the mountain. Anyway, I thought I might make some pumpkin soup. I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of meat right now, but it’s the least that I can offer,” she said as she bent down and pulled out a large, round metal container and set it on a metal surface in front of her.

Skal grunted. He should have found time to hunt. He could survive without the meat—it was something that he had done many times before, starving himself to feed his family—but for some reason it did not feel right that there was no good meat available for the female. Unwilling to touch the small sitting benches, he crouched low and rested his arms against the firm muscles of his thighs as he watched her move about the small space. He startled briefly when a flame sprung up without the use of the flint and ore that he kept in a small bag hanging from a cord and hidden in the ruff of fur around his throat. Discovering the valuable stones had been a moment of triumph, but now he wondered what more this new world offered. Dens made out of wood and now fires that sprung to life with just a move of the fingers. It was all strange and new.

Ears pricking, Skal watched her as she pulled out a large wooden board and a blade and began to cut into the large orange fruit. Its musky, sweet scent sprung into the air with each score of the blade into its meat. As if sensing his gaze fixed on her, her eyes flicked over to him for just a moment, and her lips twitched yet again, intriguing him with their delicate curl.

“I suppose that if we are going to be doing this, we might as well call each other something other than human and Ragoru. Or female,” she added with a wrinkle of her nose in obvious distaste.

He chuffed, the rusty sound springing unbidden from him. Perhaps it was getting a little tiring, though he was still tempted to think of her privately as a nishagolin who cunningly ensnared him within her territory. That he was not fighting for his freedom to escape the valley should alarm him, because that was yet another sign of a lone triad-less male being caught. He was not sure if he wanted her name, however. That was too intimate. Made their shared den a little too real for him. His ears flattened sullenly, and his mouth clamped shut.

“Okay,” the female hummed, giving him a wry look over her shoulder. “Well, suit yourself. I know that I would prefer to be called by my name if you are going to be sticking around. I’m Eve. Just Eve, nothing fancier than that. Eve Brennon, if you want my full name.”

“I did not ask or want it,” he grumbled sourly, ignoring the flutter of warmth in his chest at the sound of her name.

She gave him another sidelong glance. “Of course not. Me offering my name has nothing at all to do with you other than requesting that you use it instead of referring to me as something that makes me feel like less of a person. You don’t have to give me your name,” she added in a thoughtful voice. “I can just think of something better to call you. You mentioned rog. It sounds like a short version of Ragoru. I could call you that or Roggy.”

“No!” he barked, his fur bristling. She jumped and gave him a surprised look, and he swallowed back a sick feeling that rose from startling her. “Rog is a youngling,” he grumbled in explanation.

Her cheeks pinkened in that odd sickly way again and she gave an embarrassed laugh. “Ah. Sorry. I probably should have thought of that. It just sounded like it was a short, cute way of talking of your species…I guess. Well, maybe something else then…”

“Skal,” he snapped in exasperation. “My name is Skal.”

Her lips curled with satisfaction, and she turned back to her work, dumping the pile of chopped-up orange vegetation into the vessel as she hummed softly to herself. Skal blinked, and he peered at her, his ears tipping toward her slowly as he wondered for a moment if this female was as clever as she was brave. Had he had been tricked? If so, then why was it that he didn’t quite mind so much? It was extremely perplexing, and he found himself studying her, waiting for any other signs of the unexpected. Perhaps she was a nishagolin after all.